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When I see it, I still, my feet stuck to the floor. I like Marco, but that could change on a dime. “What’s wrong?”
She begins to sob. I’ve never seen her like this. She’s not a big crier. Neither of us are, really.
“It’s going to be okay. Whatever it is, you’re going to get through it, and I’m going to be right by your side.” I hand her a paper cocktail napkin. “Talk to me, Valentina.”
“I’m not sure we’re going to make it, Lexie.” She takes a big gulp of her drink.
He left out of the blue. I’m going to kill him. “Why do you think that?”
“Money is a huge issue. Bigger than it’s ever been.”
“Because of the gallery?”
“It’s not just that, although it’s a sore spot. I wanted him to have something of his own. But I should have never gone behind his back.”
Valentina tried to dip into her trust fund for a large down payment to purchase an art gallery that Marco has been wanting since she met him. Her father stepped in to stop it, and even her mom, Daniela, who is normally the voice of reason, didn’t support it. Rafael was livid.
If Valentina had been making the purchase for herself, they wouldn’t have batted an eyelash, but her mother, especially, felt that the trust fund was her insurance policy in the event she ever needed it. I was surprised by Daniela’s reaction at the time, although given her history, I guess it makes sense.
“You didn’t go behind his back. You were trying to surprise him. Have you tried talking to your mom?”
“My mother is sympathetic—to a point. But she has strong opinions about men who are uncomfortable about their wives having more money than they do. I’m reluctant to talk to her about my marital problems. She’s very protective of me in her own way—and she might hold it against Marco. I don’t need more trouble.”
If Marco loses Daniela’s support, Valentina’s situation will be more difficult. No doubt about it.
“Do you think Marco is being oversensitive about it?” Because I do.
“A small part of me does. But we all have things that push our buttons. My insecurities aren’t the same as his, but I would expect him to respect my feelings. And I can totally see how being around my father and Rafael is intimidating.”
I can see it too.
“Lydia would know what to do.”
Valentina closes her eyes. “She would.”
Lydia was Antonio’s mother, Rafael’s mother’s sister, and while neither Valentina nor I were her biological granddaughters, she was our grandmother—the only grandmother that either of us ever knew. Lydia didn’t suffer fools—especially the kind with cocks—and better than any other person I’ve ever met, she could see the forest through the trees. She would be able to advise Valentina—and she would know just how to get the authorities to listen about the traffickers. And if they didn’t listen, she’d bring them down herself. That’s how she was. I miss her.
“She would have told me to stand tough against all of them and follow my heart,” Valentina says with a bittersweet smile. “But Lydia’s not here, so I’m going to have to figure it out on my own.”
I reach over and take her hand. “Not on your own. Never on your own, baby. Not while I’m still breathing.”
She blows her nose and tosses the tissues in the trash.
I need to talk to Rafael about this. I won’t give too much away—nothing that Valentina told me in confidence. I have to do something. Relationships are hard enough without the people you love shitting all over them.
“I don’t think there’s ice cream, but why don’t we watch a movie?”
“Something funny,” she replies. “I could use a good laugh.”
We settle in on the sofa with a big cozy blanket and find a movie that has good reviews.
But despite the glowing reviews, it’s a dud filled with the kind of humor that only appeals to teenage boys. Valentina is still jet-lagged and falls asleep twenty minutes into it.
I turn it off and watch my sweet friend sleep for a few minutes. She looks so peaceful tucked under the blanket. But looks can be deceiving. Her family, whom I love, is nearly as nuts as mine. Although not quite. I know they don’t want to destroy her marriage, but they can’t help themselves from interfering, under the guise of love. It doesn’t make their behavior any less destructive.
My phone buzzes with a message reminding me of a haircut next week in London, an appointment that I scheduled months ago. Cancel. I don’t plan on returning to London anytime soon, especially with Rafael here. Don’t get ahead of yourself. See how it goes. I will, although it doesn’t really matter. I didn’t leave London because of him, and if things don’t work out between us, I won’t go back because of him either.
The sun is lower in the sky, casting a pall over the room. With the guards stationed outside the apartment door instead of in the kitchen, and Valentina asleep, the apartment is quiet—almost too quiet—and I’m restless.
