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I can’t help but scoff. I’m tired of people acting as though this shouldn’t hurt me. If somebody as cold as Roman can figure out that it might, so should the people who are supposed to love me. “I’m sorry my betrayal is an inconvenience.”
Brandon rolls his eyes, bristling with a frustration he rarely shows. I almost want to tell him what I did. What we did.
It’s okay, Brandon. I made it even. I made out with your bestie, too.
But then I think of the fear on Roman’s face. He really didn’t want Brandon to know. For whatever reason, he cares about my brother.
And as much as I hate him right now, so do I. I can’t do it.
“Look, I don’t need your permission to be happy, but I would like it. You’re our favorite person in the world, Mads. We love you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You’re already that couple that replaces ‘I’ with ‘we’?”
Brandon purses his lips, the life draining from him all at once so he’s nothing but flat. Unreadable. “You know what? Forget it. I wouldn’t expect you to understand what a healthy relationship looks like.”
I want to remind him that my relationships were perfectly healthy before this — with him, with Chloe — but it’s no longer true, and it hurts. It’s like everything in my life has been poisoned since Elio. Still, he has some audacity, acting like his love for Chloe is the only one that matters. I loved her, too. Just because it wasn’t in the same way doesn’t make the friendship any less deserving of respect.
But he’s clearly wearing Chloe-tinted glasses, and I can’t keep going around in circles. I pile up the plates and leave him in the garden.
In the kitchen, Mom is loading the dishwasher. She sends me a sleepy smile, her sandy curls bouncing against her blush-tinted cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?”
I shrug, handing her the plates and then slumping onto the nearest stool. I missed the call for jet lag three stations ago and I’m surprised I’m still standing as exhaustion crushes me.
“I know the engagement must come as a surprise, and I’m sure it feels a little weird to be kept in the dark.” Shutting the dishwasher door, Mom comes over and pats my hand, face wrinkling as she smiles. “It’ll get easier. These things happen sometimes.”
“Yeah.” I wish I had more to say, but it’s clear that none of them gets it — and besides, Brandon appears in the doorway, juggling a stack of glasses. I ignore him.
“So, what’s the plan now you’re home? What exciting adventure is next?” Mom sits beside me, her eyes glittering with anticipation.
And as I open my mouth, I realize I don’t have an answer. I was so focused on getting out of Italy that I didn’t even think about what might come after. I’ll have to get a new job to pay off the credit card debt Elio left me in, and then there’s my overdraft…
Without warning, my eyes fill with tears. I look away, hoping she won’t see, but both Mom and Brandon frown.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”
“Well… you don’t have to think about it right now. You know you’re always welcome to stay here and rest for a little while.” She strokes soothing circles down my spine, just like when I was little and she was trying to send me to sleep.
I feel as fragile now as I did then. I have nothing, no money, no career. Rest isn’t an option. Soon enough, Mom and Dad will wonder why I can’t contribute to grocery shopping and bills, things I’ve always been hellbent on paying before.
“Mads… did something happen in Italy?” Brandon asks.
Dread claws in my gut. I can’t tell them. “No. No, of course not. It’s just… I spent more of my savings than I planned to and I’m a little low on funds. I need a job ASAP, and I don’t even know where to start.”
Brandon narrows his eyes, looking unconvinced, but instead of questioning me, he leans across the island and places his hand on my arm — as though we’re okay. I’m almost petty enough to pull away, but I don’t have the energy.
Maybe I just need to be reassured.
“Well, there’s no shortage of nanny jobs in the city, right?” he says.
Mom nods along. “And until then, you know we can help you out. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“It’s just a huge step back. I want to be independent. You shouldn’t have to be worrying about me anymore.” I sniffle.
“I’m just a little confused. I thought the family you were working in Milan for paid you well?” She hands me a tissue, and I dab my damp cheeks meekly.
I feel pathetic. I didn’t want to let on I was struggling in the slightest, but I don’t know how to hide something that’s eating away at me. “They did…” I search quickly for an excuse. A lie. “But there are a lot of fees that come with working abroad. I lost track of what was coming in and out, and suddenly I was struggling.”
