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“You left the window open.”
I lifted my shoulder casually. “You closed it.”
“Still,” she started, and I sensed more was coming, like a dam about to burst. “That was careless and reckless, and something might have, I don’t know, flown in? Maybe a bird. Or a kite...”
“A kite is, technically, still a bird.”
“...or a bee.” She conveniently ignored me and walked over to the bedside. “If either of those things got in here, what would we have done? You have to be more careful, Mariana. You’re distracted.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. When Christy whined about unimportant things, I knew something else secretly ate her up. My leg stopped jiggling and I pushed myself up, resting my back against the headboard. I eyed her and her gaze leveled on mine. Her hair was tied back in a scarf. She wore a two-piecesilk pajama and had on a honey and lemon juice face mask. Her hands reached for the pillow beside me and she grabbed it.
I rolled my shoulder and massaged my neck. “Okay, you have my attention now. What did I do?”
She fluffed the pillow with an exerted level of energy and glared at me. “Thatman.”
I shut my eyes and tilted my head backwards. “Oh my God, Christy.”
“Don’t withdraw, Mariana. We are talking about this,” she rushed before I could get a chance to shut it down and call it a night.
A soft laugh escaped me. “He’s the bird and the kite and the bee? You were asking me to be careful, about him?”
“Glad you know how to read between the lines, Einstein.” She dropped—more like slammed the pillow on the bed and placed a hand on her hip, fussing. “He screams danger and is everything beyond your comfort zone. How can you even like someone like that?”
I did a dramatic eye roll, a hint of amusement on my lips. “I don’t know; I just do. And what if I like a little bit of danger, or going beyond my comfort zone?”
“That’s your vagina talking, hon. Not you.” She sighed and ran a hand down her face. “Look, it’s obvious: there was a lot of attraction between you two, that much I could see. But he’s scary, Mari. The whole bad boy vibe... I’m not sure it’s good for you or what you need now.”
She slid into the bed and raised the blankets over her body. My heart twisted in an uncomfortable way. She was partly correct. If I ever had to be with a man, blue-eyed, tattooed, and dangerous, were not the best keyword to search.
Calm, successful, and ordinary were more like it. But ordinary was normal; and normal, was boring.
With Vlad, I was playing with fire. And I didn't want to walk away unscathed.
My eyes fell on her and I pulled my lips in a thin line. “That’s not up to you to decide.”
She raised her hands, posing a mock surrender. “Hey, I never said I was deciding anything.” She paused, and sucked her teeth. “Do you know Johnny Dewey?”
“Never heard of him.” Where was she going with this?
“I'll tell you.” She cleared her throat. “Johnny Dewey was a cop. A dirty, sleazy cop. He was involved in shady business, and one day, things went south. Messed with the wrong people, and they took his wife. Do you know what happened to her? His wife?”
I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “No, Christy. I don't know what happened to Johnny Dewey's wife, because I don't know who the fuck Johnny Dewey is.”
Unfazed, she continued. “She died, Mari. Four bullets through her. Head, left shoulder, right shoulder, and the chest.”
I arched an eyebrow. “The cross?”
“Those bastards sent her straight to heaven where her beautiful soul deserved.”
I shifted on the bed. Something about the story seemed… oddly familiar. I squinted. It clicked. I slapped a hand on my forehead. “Oh myGod, Christy! Johnny Dewey fromAwakening Hearts?”
She snorted and pulled the comforter up to her chin.
“Might be fictional, but who said it doesn't happen? Look, Dewey's wife died because her idiot husband got involved with the wrong people. Don't be Johnny, Mariana. Stay away from danger.” She turned around, giving her back to me. “Good night.”
***
I sat by the dresser, looking at my reflection as the brush went up and down my hair.
