The blood drained from my face. This wasn’t surprising — my sister was crazy. She once flushed someone’s wedding ring down the toilet because they’d pissed her off, but physical violence was something I hadn’t seen from her in a long time.
“Fucking Jesus. Is Cami alive?” God, if my sister had killed her…
Enzo cleared his throat. “She’s fine. I drove back and checked. But Vanessa needs…” He ran his hand over his head. “I don’t know, a fucking therapist or something. Who does that?”
“My sister,” I said, rubbing my stubble. “Fuck, this is such a mess.”
“You’re damn straight,” Enzo responded. “And it’syourmess. You need to man up and sign those divorce papers and end this shit before it gets any worse.”
I loved the bones of this man, but fucking hell. Sometimes he was too blunt.
“I can’t sign these,” I whispered, my head in my hands. “Not without talking to her.”
Lila wouldn’t take my calls or respond to my texts. I’d given her space, and now she’d had me served with divorce papers? I should have gone home and made her talk to me.
“Then do it. Go over there right now and talk to her, but whatever you do, avoid your sister. I think she’ll kill you.”
“We’ve been there already.”
“She’s met Cami now.” Enzo shook his head. “What were you thinking? She’s no Lila.”
I scowled at him. There was a time where I was sure he had feelings for Lila, but it must’ve been my insecurity raising its ugly head because they’ve always been great friends and nothing more.
But now she wanted a divorce, and my best friend could swoop in there and move in.
Fucking Jesus, what am I thinking?
Enzo wouldneverdo that to me. He may be pissed at me for upsetting her because she’s his friend too. But his loyalties lie with me.
“As helpful as ever, Enzo.” I rose to my feet, grabbing the keys to my truck. “Don’t wait up, will you?”
“You’ll be back in ten minutes when she refuses to talk to your sorry ass.” He grinned at me and I flipped him the middle finger.
“Fuck you.”
“You wish.”
Some things never changed.
I drove faster through the slick streets than I’d ever driven in my life, my heart racing the whole time.
Would she answer the door?
Would she let me in?
Would she even look at me?
Fuck, I felt sick. I would beg her, even if I had to get on my hands and fucking knees. I’d do it. I’d eat shit if it meant she’d hear me out, but I still didn’t know what to say.
When I pulled onto our road, my heart sank; our familiar house pulling up on my right treacherously made my body relax like I was home.
Except I wasn’t allowed inside. I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed, next to my own fucking wife.
The pricks next door had their car parked partially over our drive again, but this time it didn’t invoke rage within me.
I just felt sad.
Once upon a time, that would have been the worst part of my day. Now I’d kill to go back to that. To moaning to Lila about how rude they were while she played with my hair.
