“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m going out. You can see yourself home.”
My eyes snap up to his. “But I thought we’d get a cab and go home together?”
“What did I just say?”
There’s nothing gentle or loving in his eyes. All I see is sheer annoyance. I look down at my knees on the dirty floor. I stay in place, pathetically kneeling on the floor and maintain my numb silence until I hear him leave. The door closes behind him with a definitive bang.
When the tears come, I’m not entirely sure who I’m crying for. Or for how long. All I know is that when Mia finds me, I’m still kneeling on the floor.
“Hey, hey, hey!” She kneels in front of me, green eyes wide with alarm.
“S-s-sorry.”
“Oh shush.” She pulls me in for a hug without any warning, knocking the wind out of me. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but it seems like a stupid question.”
After savoring a moment of her comforting embrace, I pull away, dabbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”
Her green eyes linger, as Rocco’s had, on the tops of my arms. “Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s fine, Mia. It was an accident.”
“You don’t need to defend that scumbag. Not to me.”
I get to my feet, using the time to compose myself. “I’m handling it, okay? He’s not dangerous. He’s just passionate.”
“Possessive more like,” Mia counters, her hands on her hips. “What would happen, do you think, if you broke up with him?”
Her bluntness never ceases to astound me. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“You know my door is always open, right? You don’t have to live with him.”
“You live in a studio, Mia. We’d be living on top of each other.”
“It would be like having a sleepover every night.”
I smile at the blurry memories from our childhood when we did exactly that. “You wouldn’t be able to handle the trashy rom-coms I’d make you watch.”
“You got me there.” Her lazy, reminiscent smile slowly fades. “But I’m serious. Just say the word, and I will murder that fucker in his sleep.”
She’ll do it, too, without hesitation. I know, because if our situations were reversed, I’d be saying exactly the same thing. The thought of anyone laying a hand on Mia makes my skin crawl.
But it’s easy to think that. It’s so much harder to redirect that kind of thinking to your own situation.
“I love him,” I say with a shrug as if that somehow makes up for everything else.
Mia gives me a long look before holding up her hands so I can help her up. “As soon as that stops being enough, you tell me. Agreed?”
My heart swells for the fiery woman before me and everything she’s grown up to be in those years we spent apart. “Agreed.”
“Good. Now that’s settled, do me a favor and stay the hell away from Rocco Moretti.”
I cross my arms. “You weren’t exactly subtle earlier. Why do you hate him so much?”
“It’s not that I hate him. He’s just…” she trails off, trying to find the word. “Very, very bad for you.”
“How ominously vague of you, Mia.”
