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“Yeah. At least if I screw up, you’ll be the only one to witness it.”
“You won’t screw up anything. Trust me.”
“Thanks, little Ari. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And FYI, I’m not little anymore. I will soon get married to Remi and pop out beautiful children before you and Eli get around it.”
“Be my guest.” I plaster an automatic smile that hurts.
The last thing I need in my current jumbled state is to be reminded of my dear husband, who’s not only been away from the house for an entire week, but also shoved Gemma my way as if we’re tight buddies.
I told her the date of the event was tomorrow in an attempt to create some distance. She’s not a welcome guest today. Besides, I haven’t missed the heart eyes she automatically shows whenever she brings up Eli, and Sam also caught her snooping near his bedroom.
The nerve.
EvenIhavenever snooped in his bedroom, but then again, there’s no love lost between me and the husband I’m stuck with.
Gemma, however, would be delighted to warm his bed and act as his mistress if given the chance.
Maybe I should present her with the option so I can regain my freedom and stop obsessively thinking about the man’s presence—or the lack thereof.
The only hint of him I’ve seen has been in the form of either Leo or Sam. The latter accompanied me today and is sitting at one of the tables up front so she can report my failure in HD detail to her boss.
Eli’s actions have no business affecting my mood anymore, but the fact that he hasn’t checked on me, offered me his company, or asked how practice has been going is fouling my mood more than it’s supposed to.
And no, his limitless black card and Sam’s emotionless face are no substitute for his lack of interest.
Ari releases me and stares at me expectantly. “Is he really not coming to watch you?”
“Why would he? He never has before and there’s no reason he’d start now.”
“But you want him to?”
“Absolutely not. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s presence would only sour the atmosphere.”
She flops onto the worn-out faux leather sofa. “You’re still a horrible liar.”
“Am not.”
“Are, too. You’ve been checking your phone and staring at the door since we got here.”
“It’s about Sam. She’s not a joy to be around, but she’s a marvelous listener and basically a close friend at this point. I wouldn’t survive in that house without her.”
“Uh-huh. More like Sam’s boss.”
I throw a pillow at her, but she catches it and giggles away like a know-it-all. While I love my sister, I’d like to strangle her right now.
At the same time, I’m grateful to have her by my side when everything seems to be falling apart.
Cello is the only thing that makes sense and while I did consider abandoning it in the past, I’d never have been able to doit. That would be no different than discarding a part of my soul—the sane part that’s not brimming with bizarre hallucinations and decisively sickening coping mechanisms.
“You know…” Ari trails off as she stands, ready to take her place in the venue, possibly beside Sam so she can annoy the hell out of her.
For the first time, I feel sorry for the woman.
“Hmm?” I check my nails, even though I made sure they’re not too long to get stuck in anything.
“I could call Eli and chew him out for being a horrible husband and not supporting his wife in her special endeavors.”
