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He turns back around. My guess is he’s making lunch and that’s why he won’t let Sunny step foot in his territory.
In a weird way, I’m thankful that he doesn’t leave me alone with Sunny.
Last time we were in a room alone, I offered him friendship. I would be proud of how much restraint I showed by doing only that, but that’s kind of pathetic. In my current state, I don’t know what I’d do if it was just us.
I want Sunny here, close, but I shouldn’t allow us to be any closer. His arm around me already feels too good. Something I know I won’t be able to forget no matter how much of a bad omen it is.
He keeps rubbing my shoulders, sometimes a little down to the middle of my back and then up a bit to my nape.
I can almost imagine what his fingers would feel like rubbing my scalp, maybe combing through my hair.
It’s that image that finally has my sobs subsiding, and my breaths evening out.
I take the time to sip the ginger tea Angelo made. It wakes me up a bit, and though I wish I could pretend none of this happened, I know I have to face Sunny, face what pushed me to the point of metaphorical no return, and most of all, I think I need to explain.
Thanks to the two very intense conversations we’ve had, though, I think it’s pretty simple.
“I saw my mother.”
Angelo also understands everything with only those four words, even though we’re not exactly friendly either—Angelo is only friends with things he can dice up.
And the loud bang of a pot slamming down on the range is enough to tell me he must care about me. At least a little.
“Bitch,” he mutters, and I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“It is what it is,” I say, tired beyond belief.
Angelo only grunts in answer, but I know he’s stewing as much as whatever he’s cooking.
“You know, when I was younger and wiser,” Sunny starts with a suddenly bright, sarcastic tone. A snort escapes me, but it sounds more like a hiccup when bracketed with sniffles. “I used to know exactly what to do to process my emotions.”
“What’s that?” I ask, genuinely hoping he’s about to give me the answer to all my problems.
He smirks and nods back to the entryway.
“Hit something really hard or lift something very heavy.”
I sigh.
How does he already get me?
“It’ll have to wait, though,” he says seriously. “You need to wash your face and probably work some, and I have to go pick up the boys with Johnny, then take them to their swimming lessons.”
I sigh, knowing he’s probably right, but then . . .
“No.”
“No?” He looks momentarily worried, and I regret how hard the one word came out.
“I deserve a fucking day off. Nothing’s gonna burn down if I miss one marketing meeting for the Keys’ push to the World Series. Liv can handle it.” I dial Rae, and while I wait for the call to connect, I look back at Sunny. “I’ll wash my face, but Wes and I are coming with you.”
Sunny’s answering smile keeps me going for the rest of the day until the boys lose their battles against sleep and we can finally head to the gym on the fourth floor.
14
SUNNY
June 16th
