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“Briefly. I was just starting as she left. She’s the perfect example of what I mean about taming the bad boys.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh yeah, she has Theo right where she wants him.”
“So put his cousin in the same place,” she says, letting me know that she’s more than aware of the family dynamics going on within the Cirillos.
After Maria changes my dressing, I dress in a pair of leggings, a bralette, and an oversized zip-up hoodie that Jodie apparently dropped off for me while I was sleeping last night. Someone else who knows exactly how comfortable I was cuddling into Nico’s side.
I remember Brad leaving after an awkward-as-fuck visit where I knew that he’d fucked a whore Friday night, and he tried to make out like he didn’t. I should have just called him out on it. I don’t care where he’s sticking his dick, as long as it isn’t in me. But forcing him to be honest would mean that I’d need to offer him the same in return, and I had zero desire to talk about my life truthfully.
A rush of cool air floods the room when Maria pulls the door open, and my stomach knots and my heart jumps into my throat as I think about walking out there and facing Nico once more.
I was exhausted when Brad left, and I don’t know if it was just that or hormones or what, but I broke. It was coming. I’d felt more and more unstable every time I woke up, but watching him walk out was the final straw.
I just don’t remember ever allowing Nico to be the one to comfort me. But I know he did.
Part of me loves that he was there when I needed someone. But there’s another part that hates it. And that part understands why he freaked out like he did last week when he crumbled in my arms.
Sucking in some confidence, I hold my head up high, pulling the door wider, and step out.
Only… he’s not here.
I stop in the middle of the room, watching as Maria plumps my pillows and tidies up.
“Have faith,” she says, able to read the expression on my face.
“He did the right thing,” I force myself to say, all the while fighting those tears back once more.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Unless it has something to do with Jodie, I don’t get emotional over people. Ever.
Avoiding the bed—the memories of how I woke in it with him are still too fresh—I take myself to the reclining chair that Maria has returned to, looking out the window.
“Here,” she says softy. “It’s time to step back into your life.”
She places my handbag on my lap, and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Nothing can be worse than being stuck in here, Brianna. Pull up those big girl knickers. You’ll have people who care who want to hear from you.”
I don’t argue with her. What’s the point?
“I’ll be off shift soon, but someone will be back with breakfast shortly,” Maria says as I focus on the bright summer morning beyond the window. I yearn to feel the warmth of that sun on my skin, have the sweet scent of the flowers and fresh grass in my nose instead of the sterile hospital air.
“Thank you,” I whisper, still battling with my emotions.
“Hopefully, you’ll be gone by the time I’m back later on. Good luck, yeah?”
I sigh.
“Have faith,” she repeats. “There’s no way he left you.”
“He should. It would be easier for both of us.”
“Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy, Brianna.”
With that ominous bit of advice hanging in the air between us, she squeezes my good shoulder in support and leaves my room.
Silence wraps around me like an unwanted hug, and I quickly find myself pulling my phone from my bag as a distraction from the ache in my chest from knowing he escaped the second my back was turned.
