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“We would have been posting bail.” My father laughs.
“Gladly,” she snaps. “I would have gladly posted that bail, and then you would have had to bail me out. If I catch his mother—” She laughs, but it’s a scary Cruella de Vil laugh. “She’s going to know what a scumbag of a dick her son is.” She mimics his mother, “‘My son is so in love with her, I’ve never seen him like this before.’ Gag me.”
“Okay,” my father soothes, “we should discuss this calmly.”
“Viktor,” she hisses, “he cheated on her.”
“He did and, luckily, she caught him before she got married.” He grabs her arms. “Can you imagine then?”
“No,” my mother spouts, “because then we would have to bury him under a pool liner.”
“You have to stop watching those mob shows.” He shakes his head. “Now look at our daughter. She looks amazing. She is thriving without him. He’s probably curled in a ball, the rat bastard.”
“I think you both have to stop watching those mob shows.” I bite my tongue when it earns me a glare from both of them. “Anyway, this was fun”—I clap my hands together—“but I have to go and…” I try to think of something I have to do, and when I can’t think of anything, I go with the truth. “Well, nothing, I just don’t want to do this…” I motion my hand in a circle. “Anymore.”
“Fine,” my mother huffs, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll meet you at the house tomorrow at ten.”
“That’s not a good idea,” my father says.
At the same time, I reply, “That’s not going to happen.”
This makes her slap her sides. “If his broker can be there, your broker can be there to make sure you don’t have to see his ugly-ass face.”
“Mom.” I laugh, holding my forehead.
“If I’m honest, you could do better.”
“Thank you.” My eyebrows pinch together. “I guess.”
I kiss them both and watch them get into the SUV while sirens blare from a couple of streets over. I look up at the sky, seeing it’s clouded over without one star in sight. I take a deep breath in before closing the door.
I think about ordering some food, but instead, I just head upstairs to the bedroom. The thought of eating is not appealing at all. It’s only when I slide into bed that I wonder what he’s doing. My hand itches to grab my phone and text him, but I think it would be a bad idea. We didn’t speak about what would happen when I left. I was a coward. Even though I knew I should, I didn’t bring it up. Instead, we both danced around it for three days. I just wanted to soak in every minute I had with him. Leaving him was hands down the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do, which makes no sense to me. “No one falls in love with someone in two weeks,” I tell myself, turning to the side, listening to the noise coming from outside. “You like him and the sex he gave you.” The conversation I’m having with my head is one-sided. “It’s because you miss him,” I huff, turning to the other side, “and now you are alone.” I curl my knees into my chest. “In a week, you won’t even remember him.” That’s the last thing I say because I can literally hear myself laughing at me.
Sleep doesn’t come easy for me that night, and when I finally give up and look at the clock, it’s after six in the morning. I blame the noise from the outside instead of the fact I’m miserable being here. I’m making myself coffee when my phone beeps with a text message, and I rush to it, thinking it will be him. I'm hoping he’s just as miserable without me as I am without him. Instead, I see it’s from Sofia, so my heart that was soaring is now sinking again.
Sofia: Care to explain why I got a scathing call from your mother about not sharing certain information with her?
I look up at the ceiling, and instead of texting her, I call her, and she answers after one ring. “I’m not talking to you,” she answers, and I can hear cooing in the background. “Yeah, my precious, I’m not talking to your auntie because she threw me under the bus to your gigi.” She mentions the name my mother decided to use when Sofia gave birth.
“I’m sorry,” I say, making my coffee. “It literally just slipped out.”
“And you couldn’t, I don’t know, warn me that she knew?” she hisses.
“I know, but after they left, I went upstairs to unpack and forgot.”
“You forgot? You forgot.”
“I just got home,” I remind her. “I had other things on my mind.”
“What other things?” The burning starts in my eyes this time and moves to my nose.
“I was just—” My voice comes out shaky. “It was a lot.”
“Oh my God!” she shrieks. “Do I want to know?”
“There is nothing to know.” I clear my throat, swallowing down the lump. “I’m here; he’s there. I live here; he lives there.”
“Zara,” she whispers.
