Page 58 of The Voicemail

“So that’s a no,” she mutters before turning back to her computer.

“Sorry,” I say. “Seriously, it’s nothing. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Which is it?” she asks pointedly. “Is it nothing, or is it nothing for me to worry about?”

“Please don’t start,” I beg. “My head is killing me, and I’m frustrated. I don’t have the energy to debate semantics.”

She shuts her laptop, and I realize I’ve fucked up.

“It’s not semantics, Alex,” she responds. “One thing means there’s nothing going on and you’re just in a shitty mood for no reason. The other means you’re purposely hiding something from me, again, and I definitely should be worried because you don’t trust me enough to handle the truth.”

I grit my teeth and take a deep breath in through my nose. She’s right, of course, and I hate that she’s right. She has me pegged perfectly. If only I had that kind of insight into her.

For a moment, I consider telling her everything. She deserves to know someone on my team could be feeding Tomaso information. But what would that do? Scare her and push her further away. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take. So I give her a version of the truth.

“The truth is, it is something. Not serious, but Luca needs to scan your phone for malware. We’re worried Tomaso might have bugged it. It’s just a theory, it could be nothing, but we’d rather be safe than sorry.”

She considers this for a moment, then nods, reaching beside her for her phone and handing it to me.

“Have at it,” she says in a bored tone. “It’ll be nice to have some peace of mind.”

I take it from her and stare in disbelief. I know I shouldn’t push her when she’s being so cooperative, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “That’s it?”

She blinks up at me in confusion. “What do you mean? You asked for my phone, and I gave it to you.”

“Exactly,” I say, slipping the phone into my pocket. “I’m not used to you being so helpful.”

She rolls her eyes as she pulls her legs underneath her. It’s a defensive posture, like she’s shielding herself from me.

“I told you that you just had to ask,” she reminds me. “I appreciate that you did this time. And that you were honest with me.”

I nod, but something’s off. Her fire’s gone out. There’s no pushback or heat behind her words.

“Is everything okay with you?” I ask, echoing her question.

She shrugs. “Nothing for you to worry about,” she answers, and I catch a hint of the spark.

It isn’t as bright, though. The attack must have shaken her worse than I thought.

19

ELENA

Idon’t believe Alex when he says I shouldn’t be worried. He takes my phone, and I watch him go, stupidly proud of myself for not throwing it at his head. Apparently, that’s where my standards live now.

I open my laptop again, but the article I was trying to read might as well be in another language. The words swim across the screen and leave no real impression. I scroll once, then realize I’ve hit the comment section. If I read a single word, I don’t remember it.

My brain isn’t a safe place right now. Between Tomaso attacking me, sleeping with Alex again, and the baby inside of me, my mental health is not great. And I’m not naïve enough to believe him when he says nothing is wrong. Of course something is. He wouldn’t have taken my phone otherwise.

He and Luca have a theory. I know they do. They’re purposely keeping it from me and I want to know why. I deserve to know why.

My stomach lurches and I’m forced to think about the baby again. It refuses to be ignored, even as I try to forget it exists. Sleeping with Alex again was a stupid way to try to get my mind off it.

I drop my head into my hands and groan, fighting the urge to scream. Then I sit back and press my palms against my knees so I don’t accidentally touch my stomach. There’s nothing there. If I want, there could be nothing there forever. I’m allowed to not want it. I’m allowed to not keep it.

Could I make that decision without Alex? Should I involve him at all?

I slam my laptop shut and throw it on the couch next to me. This isn’t working. I came out here to distract myself, and now I’m in yet another thought spiral. Tomaso, Alex, the baby, over and over again.