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Mom: Sunday dinner at one!!
Some things are certain, like death and taxes—and my mom’s Sunday dinner. Oh, and her penchant for using double-exclamation points in her texts. Dinner has always been at one, around my parents’ dining room table, and it’s always consisted of spaghetti and meatballs. There’s usually a lot of lively conversation and fun, especially now that my brothers have families of their own. I’ve always shown up, exactly on time. I don’t think I’ve ever missed. And yet, my mom always feels the need to remind me.
My parents are the nicest people on Earth, so I don’t complain and I never cancel, even if I don’t feel like going half the time. I always come back overstuffed and overstimulated. Every once in a while, I wouldn’t mind having a quiet, lazy Sunday all to myself.
But I can’t break my mother’s heart.
Stassi: Wouldn’t miss it!
On second thought, maybe it would be better if I did miss this one. The thought of sitting across the table from my brothers, pretending I didn’t have mind-blowing sex with their childhood best friend, is going to be uncomfortable—especially since I tend to broadcast my thoughts on my forehead.
Maybe I’ll wear a hat.
Cut some bangs.
Keep my head down.
Because one thing I know for sure, is that Aidan and Cooper would blow their gaskets if they knew all the things Alec did to me … and how much I enjoyed it.
10
Alec
Ships in the night.
That’s what we are.
Another twenty-four-hour shift later, and I’ve yet to see Stassi.
But I hear her.
Good god, do I hear her.
Whoever the guy is, he’s lucky as hell. Morning. Night. Any time I’m home, it seems they’re going at it. And she obviously likes him from the way she’s been carrying on. She wasn’t nearly that vocal with me, which leads me to believe either she was faking it for me or she’s faking it with whoever that jackass is that’s occupying her time.
When I pull up to the complex in my Tacoma, her lights are on, but there’s no sign of her outside.
I’m convinced she’s avoiding me—that she maybe even has a boyfriend. Maybe they were on a break and that’s why she was on the app? Perhaps she feels so guilty over what she did that she’s really making it up to him. She clearly had a good time with me. Why else would she be avoiding me like this?
We had drinks. We flirted. We had a good fucking time.
There was clearly chemistry and attraction.
From the driver’s seat of my truck, I stare at her door. I contemplate knocking on it, but then decide against it. She might be in there with her boyfriend. And I don’t want to seem desperate (even if I am). Besides, I sent her that message on the app and she never responded. She hasn’t been active on it for days. If she wants to find me, she knows where I am.
The walls are already shaking by the time I go inside my apartment. It’s like they’re going for a world record. Each rhythmic rattle ratchets my pulse a notch higher. While I attempt to make a turkey sandwich, I hum an old Nirvana song to try to tune them out, but nothing helps. A minute later, I’m eating my half-assed dinner but tasting none of it.
Everything around me has turned to red.
Tapping the music icon on my phone, I pull up a favorite playlist and head upstairs to shower, turning the water almost all the way hot to wash all the hospital grime away. But even the whoosh of the shower water and throbbing bass line of my music aren’t enough to drown out the moaning.
The second I turn off the water, I hear a crash.
Slinging a towel around my waist, I go to my bedroom where a bunch of boxes that had been resting against the wall I share with Stassi’s apartment have spilled over, leaving all of my framed photos and degrees in a mangled heap on the ground. A picture of me on the beach in North Carolina stares up at me. Under that, my diploma from med school is lying beneath shattered glass.
I’ve never been one to frame or display my accomplishments. I know what I’ve done, I don’t need any reminders. The only reason I have this is because my dad framed it for me shortly before he was arrested. He wasn’t interested in any of the other trophies or awards I won. Just this one. Once I finally had it, once graduation was over, he pretty much lost interest in me all over again.
I pull the paper out from the matting, roll it up, and toss the frame aside. Then I shove the diploma in one of the boxes, careful not to step on the various shards of glass everywhere.
