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“What did she say to you? Because she has slammed about a hundred doors on her way outside.”
“Nothing, it was my fault,” I say, shrugging.
“That is the second time you have covered for her, don’t feel obligated to just because she is my sister,” he says, sitting on the bed.
“I don’t, it’s fine. Just leave it,” I say hollowly.
“You look better today,” he says cocking his eyebrow.
“I look like I have gone ten rounds with Ali.”
“You looked like a ghost yesterday, and the doctor said there is no concussion.”
“No, I just feel weak, but I want to get out of this house.”
“I’ve told Francesca we won’t be attending the wedding.”
“No, I want to go. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I can’t sit around here all day.”
“It doesn’t start until four. That should give you enough time to get ready.”
“Sure, can you just take my dress out of the closet, please?”
“I’ll get one of the maids to steam it before you get dressed. Go back to sleep for now.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning over to my side and feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.
I frown as she turns to one side. There seems to be a sense of dejection written all over her face. What the fuck did Lucia say to her? As soon as we leave for the wedding, the men will be packing up and moving, and nobody will know the location until the very last minute. I wanted to know if there is a rat amongst us or whether there is just somebody very clever trying to get the jump on me. Either one is not a great outcome.
“Lucia,” I say, as I find her on the step outside smoking a cigarette.
“Yeah,” she says while avoiding my gaze.
“What did you say to Sophia?”
“Nothing,” she states, although the familiar twitch of her mouth indicates she is lying.
“You’re lying.”
“Just girl talk.”
“Girl talk? You don’t do girl talk, you have no girlfriends,” I say while rolling my eyes.
“Only because they’re jealous of me,” she snaps.
“Or because you slept with their boyfriends and husbands,” I say smirking.
“Like you’re so fucking perfect,” she screeches. “You and Sophia can both stay as far away from me as possible, you’re made for each other.” She jumps up and runs off crying.
“I’ll take care of it,” Franco says, patting my shoulder.
“Was it something I said?” I ask sarcastically.
“Just give her a break, she’s going through a hard time,” he says while lighting a cigarette.
