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“Nothing,” I reply. “We just got done with a long shooting day. Can you put Mimi on, so I can sing to her? I’m in a bad mood and not wanting to chat.”
“Mimi’s already asleep. I texted you an hour ago to let you know it was now or never.”
I rub my face with my palm. “I didn’t see your text. I was shooting and didn’t have my phone.”
“It’s okay. You’ll be here tomorrow.”
I glance at the time on the dashboard of the SUV. “She fell asleep an hour ago? That’s awfully early, Sasha.”
“The move has been exhausting for her.”
I furrow my brow with concern. “But she likes the house, right?”
My cousin smiles broadly. “She loves the house. Of course, she does, Adrian. You gave her an incredible gift. Mimi says she sees Jasper in every nook and cranny.”
My heart skips a beat. “I can’t wait to carry her around from room to room and hear all her stories.”
“Mimi is so excited you’re coming. That’s all she’s been talking about—getting to see you and Laila, in person.”
I glance at my fake girlfriend next to me to gauge her reaction to Sasha’s comment, and instantly surmise Laila is feeling conflicted. “Hey, I need to put you on hold for a sec, Cuz,” I say, before muting the call. I look at Laila. “Are you still coming to Chicago tomorrow? If not, I need to give Sasha a heads-up so she can break the bad news to Mimi when she wakes up in the morning.”
Laila pauses and I hold my breath, bracing myself. “I’ll come,” she finally decides. “Mimi didn’t say we should leave the past behind us and then turn around and invite Charlie to the house, and Mimi didn’t punch a hole in the wall, after promising she wouldn’t.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for you.”
“Any drop of happiness you bring to my grandmother is a huge gift to me. So, thank you.” With that, I unmute the call with my cousin. “Sorry about that. Laila and I will be landing around five tomorrow. I’ll text you when we’re driving to the house.”
“Perfect. See you soon.”
“Oh, hey. I ordered a bunch of groceries to be delivered to the house tomorrow morning—everything for Mimi’s famous raviolis. I thought Mimi could show Laila and me how an expert makes pasta from scratch tomorrow.”
Sasha pauses, ever so briefly. But it’s long enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“What?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high about Mimi cooking with you during your visit, Ady. Mimi’s been really tired lately.”
My breathing catches. “I’ll make sure Mimi gets plenty of rest, I promise. But I have to see her cooking like a boss in that huge gourmet kitchen.”
Sasha smiles thinly, but says nothing.
I take a shallow breath. “Okay, well. Gotta go. See you tomorrow.”
“Sleep tight and travel safe,” Sasha says. “Is Laila there?”
“Right here.”
I shift the camera to capture Laila and she waves.
“I can’t wait to see you in person,” Sasha says.
“Same here,” Laila replies. “Thank you for taking such good care of Mimi.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of Adrian.”
“Okay, bye now,” I say, abruptly shifting the camera back to myself. “Love you, Sash.”
I hang up the call, feeling physically ill. If I hadn’t messed up today, that call would have been one of the most exciting of my life. If I hadn’t messed up, I’d be on the cusp of taking a girl home to meet my family, for the first time in my life. For real. And, man, I would have been excited about that. Proud to show Laila off, as my gorgeous, talented, brilliant girlfriend. As it is, however, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, it seems like we’re hanging on by the barest of threads, if at all.
Our SUV reaches the iron gate in front of our reality TV mansion and our driver punches in the code—and when we roll into our driveway, we see a car already parked in front of the house.
“Fuck,” I say, suddenly remembering. “Fish and Alessandra. We’re writing our sappy love song tonight, remember?”
“Fuck,” Laila replies. She shakes her head. “Well, all I can say is thank God for Fish and Alessandra. Because as hard as it’s been to write a song about our ‘undying love’ the past few weeks, it’d be fucking impossible now.”
Twenty-Two
Laila
When Savage and I enter our large kitchen, Fish and Alessandra are already there, seated on stools at the island while our private chef prepares something on the stove.
Savage and I greet Fish and Alessandra and the chef. We thank our friends for coming here to save our asses and chat about today’s long shoot, since three out of four of us were there. And through it all, I can’t bring myself to look at Savage, even once.
