Page 61 of Say You're My Wife

I place the helmet back on my head, backpedal the bike, then peel out of the garage, gunning for her apartment.

The ride’s shorter than I remember it being while sitting in the back of my car. I park the bike on the sidewalk right next to Michela’s car on the street before taking off the helmet and putting it away. I look up and spot her sitting on the stairs.

The moment she recognizes me, she gets up and starts to come down.

“Stay,” I say as I dismount. “I’m coming to you.”

Michela makes her way down anyway.

“Stay,” I repeat as I rush up the stairs.

Once there, I face her, hands on my hips, ready to unleash hell for not meeting me at home like she’s supposed to, according to our signed agreement. But self-control is important, and I pause, surveying her face as I would any other opponent’s before a fight.

Her face is red, and her eyes are puffy as if she’s been crying. She’s wearing a white shirt, black tights, and dark gray flip-flops.

I gather myself, put away the confrontation for later, and lean against the rail. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom fell down the stairs,” she says, and when my eyebrows shoot up, she adds, “It’s not as bad as it sounds, but since it’s my mom, it’s catastrophic. I’m staying the night.”

Unlikely. “Does she need to see a doctor?”

“Probably, but she won’t go, and now that the booze and drugs she’s been taking are wearing off, she’s getting the shakes from withdrawals and the pain from the fall.”

“What can you do for her?”

Michela shrugs. “Prevent her from choking on her own spit.”

She says it causally, almost jokingly, but I can tell she’s worried.

Michela’s kept the door ajar, and now a strained voice calls, “Michela.”

“Coming,” Michela says, sounding defeated. With a half-assed wave at me, she says, “See you tomorrow.” She climbs the steps, thinking that she’s dismissed me.

I climb after her, and together, we walk down the hallway.

At the door marked two-twenty, she stops and turns. “My mom doesn’t know about you.”

“That’s fine.”

“If you come inside, she’ll ask questions. I don’t bring guys here.”

“Then she’ll know I’m not just a guy, and you’ll have a head start on telling her about me.”

“That’s the thing, Corrado. I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell her you’re my wife like you did with Hank.”

“I’ll tell her you’re my boyfriend.”

“You’ll say I’m your husband, or I’ll put a real baby inside you, and your belly will show everyone you and the baby have a daddy.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t mean that.”

“With the day I’ve had? Disobey me and find out.”

We’re at a standoff. Her gaze roams my face, seeking confirmation that I’ll do what I say I’d do.

“I’m going inside,” I say. “You can either let me in, or I’ll let myself in.”

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