Page 95 of No Greater Oblivion

Lyss and I clank glasses before drinking and her eyes glisten with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I confess. “I don’t know where to start.”

“What does it have to do with?”

I hesitate before answering. “Alejandro.”

“Your boyfriend?” she asks.

“I’m thinking of leaving him.”

“Oh.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah…”

“Did something happen? Is he cheating?”

I almost roll my eyes. “Part of me wishes he was. At least then I’d know where to direct my anger.”

“Who the Hell does he think he is? Just because you moved over here to be with him doesn’t mean he can walk all over you or make you feel unwanted. Know your worth!” She affirms. “If you want to move out of that house, say the word. I have a few guy friends on campus who can help you move your stuff. And if you end up going back home, you’re more than welcome to stay at my place till I get back. My room is empty and my parents would love the company.”

“Lyss, you don’t change, you know that?” I manage a smile. “You’re the same girl from kindergarten who’d share her lunch with kids who didn’t have any.”

A soft blush creeps across her freckled cheeks, accentuating her auburn hair. “Well…I’m certainly the same height as a kindergartner.”

I don’t know why I came out here today or why I texted Lyss over the weekend. Maybe the loneliness was finally getting to me and maybe, the further away Alejandro drifts, the more desperate I become to fill his place. But I’ve been feeling alone for a while and it doesn’t help that all my friends in Barcelona are biologically related to my boyfriend. Doesn’t make for an objective circle around me and what I really need is the neutral opinion of an uninvolved third party.

“I guess, I should start somewhere. See, Alex is very rich.”

Lyss juts her chin. “Hence the guy watching us from across the plaza?”

“Oh, Beni? Yeah, he’s harmless.” I wave it off. “But he’s not regular people rich…God, how do I explain this?”

The waitress returns and I rearrange the cups and utensils on our table to make room for the plates she leaves behind. Lyss reaches for the patatas bravas first and digs in, enjoying each savory bite with a sigh of contentment.

“Like mid-six figure rich?”

“Higher.”

“Millionaire?”

“Higher.”

She stops mid-bite. “Multi-millionaire.”

I press my lips together.

Lyss puts down the plate. “Let me see a picture of him.”

I reach into my purse for my phone and scroll through my albums to find pictures of us. I extend the phone to her mid-drink and she snorts, a clear stream of cava shooting out through both nostrils.

“Alyssa!”

She snatches the phone from me as she coughs up a lung. “Jesus Christ⁠—”

I grab a bunch of napkins to clean up the mess. “Are you okay?”