Page 34 of Vega

Despite myself, I smiled. “What voice would you prefer?”

“One with life in it. One with joy. One that sounds like you have not been wandering around your condo in a bonnet listening to sad music.”

“I don’t listen to sad music.”

“You read sad books. Same depression, different packaging.”

I looked through the café window. A black sedan waited at the light. The driver faced forward, but I still watched until the car turned.

“What do you want, Dior?”

“Dinner. Tonight. Somewhere cute with cocktails and flattering lighting for good footage for TikTok.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” he whined.

“I have work.”

“You leave work at five.”

“I need to stay late. I have a busy week.”

“You are always busy, but you usually make time for me.” His voice had lost some of its playfulness.

Guilt returned immediately. I had been avoiding him. The more time we spent together, the easier it would be for someone watching me to identify him. Dior was not difficult to remember. He dressed like every sidewalk was a runway, spoke to strangers as though they were already friends, and never entered a room quietly.

He was also the person Roman could use to make me cooperate.

“I’m tired,” I said.

“No. You are being distant.”

“I have a lot going on.”

“And you won’t tell me what any of it is. “You do this every time life gets hard, Sonnet. You disappear inside yourself and decide nobody gets to help you.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“It is very fair. You have barely spoken to me for days. When I ask what is wrong, you give me some vague answer about work or being tired.”

The truth was on the tip of my tongue. I could tell Dior everything, and he would come get me, insist I stay with him, and try to help even if helping placed him directly in danger. But I couldn’t do that to him.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

His silence told me the apology wasn’t enough.

“There are times when my past gets the best of me,” I continued. “This is one of those times.”

His voice softened. “Your mother?”

“Everything.”

It was another lie built from the truth. Memories of my past still affected me. They simply were not why I could barely eat my lunch at that moment.

“I wish you would let me be there for you.”

“I know.”