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Tor’s face is alight with lazy humor as he drinks me in. He slides his hands into his pockets and strolls into the house after me.
“Sweatpants,cugino? Am I seeing things?”
“You’ll be seeing stars if you don’t get the fuck out of this house,” I reply calmly.
His easy laugh follows Rory and I into the kitchen. She takes her time, peering over the breakfast bar as she grabs us plates and cutlery. Tor leans against the counter like he didn’t hear me.
“You ever answer your phone these days?”
“Yeah, because you really did that when you fucked off on vacation for three weeks.”
He lets out a tense breath. “Come on,cugino.I explained myself. What the fuck have I got to do for you to get over it?” He runs a judgmental eye down to the green socks poking out between my sweatpants and my Nikes. “To get overthis?”
I ignore him in favor of tossing my burger on a plate and feeding Maggie a French fry. “The housewives are going to Amsterdam in this episode, right?” I ask Rory.
“Uh-huh. Apparently, they have the craziest fight over dinner.”
“Gesù Cristo,” Tor grinds out. He lunges over, grabs my burger, and Frisbees it into the sink. “Let’s just put a pin in your meltdown for a minute. I’ve got the whole of Cove at my feet. Every bar, club, and casino. I own one-hundred-percent of everything, no Dante in sight. What do you want?”
I palm the counter and look up at him. “I wanted that fucking burger.”
He ignores me. “I’ll sign whatever complicated contract you want me to, and I won’t even read it.”
I’d forgotten how persistent this dick could be. I glance to Rory, and she flashes me a lop-sided grin. “You’re heartbroken, not stupid. Get him in the pockets, Rafe.”
I bite back a smirk. “What do you think I should do?”
A glint sparks in her eye, like the darkness inside her is knocking to get out. She scoops up Maggie and strokes her, like Doctor Evil strokes Mr. Bigglesworth inAustin Powers.“I think you should hit him.”
“And I think that’s an excellent idea.”
Tor groans. “Fuck’s sake. Fine.” He straightens up, rubbing his hands together and cricking his neck. He rounds the counter and braces himself on the other side of it. “Just don’t knock out any teeth; my smile is my best feature.”
I wash my knuckles in the sink. Blood, both mine and Tor’s, snakes between lettuce leaves and a lone pickle, then swirls down the drain. Behind me, I can hear the low hum of our reality show floating in from the living room. In front of me, the rain has started up again, hammering on the kitchen window.
,
Sighing, I hold my hands up to the recessed lights. Splitting skin doesn’t feel anywhere near as satisfying when it isn’t for her.
Behind me, Rory clears her throat. I glance up, meeting her reflection in the rain-streaked glass.
“She’s gone.”
I swallow. “Gone?”
“I got hold of Matt. She slid a note under his door,” she whispers.
My heart climbs up my throat and sits there, choking me.
I swallow,hard,and try to breathe like a person who hasn’t just had the life knocked out of him.
I brace my bloody knuckles on either side of the sink. Meet her reflection again.
“Tell Tor I want forty-nine-percent. And tell your husband I’m back.”
Pennywasright.
Love is a fucking trap.
