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“It’s to our new house in Miami,” he said. “I rented it and we can move there temporarily while we look for a place.”
I was stunned.
“But my parents live here,” I said. “They’re getting older. My family lives here. I have to live here.”
WineBar and I had talked about this before. I’d told him how I needed to be around my family.
Family was everything to me.
My aunts and uncles—many of them worked two jobs just to make ends meet. They couldn’t afford daycare.
I’d been babysitting my little nieces and nephews for a while.
I couldn’t just back out of that.
I had to stay.
“Don’t you want to be with me?” he asked, getting angry.
“I do. But can’t you stay here? Is Miami that important?” I asked, tears falling freely.
“It’s my life that’s over there!”
“What about it always being me?” I whispered.
WineBar was silent.
We stared at each other. Mascara was rolling down my cheeks.
And he came over and hugged me.
Kissed the top of my head.
Then without a word, he turned around and walked away.
Allana & Derek
One
Allana
I’m so fucking bored. Another day hanging around in my apartment.
No jobs on the horizon. Not that I need the money, but I need to be fucking stimulated, for fuck’s sake.
Ten years of modeling, and I’m reduced to this. Keeping my own goddamn company.
I remember when I moved into this building eight years ago. I was so excited.
Cash was just falling out of my pockets, and I couldn’t wait to move in with such a hip crowd. Now I find them all mortifyingly annoying.
Well, most of them.
My phone does its jingle thing, and I pull myself up from the big white couch. White chairs, white curtains, white everything. Hardwood floors in golden honey and lots of light.
I love it as much now as I did years ago.
I’m hoping the phone is a job, but it’s not. It’s Emilia.
