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But I have to find out the truth. I won’t be able to call him again tomorrow. “Hello?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” the woman says. “Matt can’t come to the phone right now.”
Who picks up someone else’s phone if not a girlfriend or a wife? Is it possible this is a landline number?
“Can you tell him Ashley called?” I ask, just in case.
“Sure.” Judging from her neutral tone, the woman is probably a secretary or something.
“Thanks.” I give her my phone number. If this isn’t a cell phone, then there’d be no caller ID, and he wouldn’t be able to call me back.
“No problem, Ashley. But just a word of caution, woman to woman, don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t call you back.”
“Why is that?” My heart pounds.
“Well, he’s getting married. Maybe he just wanted to have one last night of fun, I don’t know. But don’t get your hopes up. Men pull this kind of shit all the time.” In a cheerful voice, she adds, “But I’ll be sure to let him know you called. Bye, Ashley.”
I stare at the wall with the phone pressed against my ear as the disconnect tone morphs into silence.
What just happened? I’d imagined multiple different ways the call could’ve gone but that was . . .
He just wanted to have one last night of fun.
I guess that’s it, then.
I was dumb for thinking Matt might be the knight who would save me from my fate. But that’s okay. I’ll just have to save myself.
Matteo
“What the fuck are you so happy about?”
My sister, Rosa, who’s grinning as she paints her fingernails, filling the living room with the chemical fumes. “Cheer up, Matteo. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day.”
I seize my phone on the coffee table before I take a seat. So that’s where I left it. Pressing the button, the screen flashes to give me the disappointing news.
No missed calls. No text messages.
“Expecting someone?” Rosa asks in a cheerful tone.
“None of your business.”
My two sisters can’t be more different if they tried. Elena is the sweetest, kindest girl, while Rosa would fuck you up just to amuse herself.
Even when we were kids, she used to do shit like trashing our rooms or spilling our drinks just to get us into trouble.
One time, she even scattered my toys all over Dad’s office—a forbidden area for us kids at the time because that was where he stored his weapons and drugs—and smirked as he told me I was grounded, his face red with fury.
Something about her happy face reminds me of that smirk. She turns to me. “Why are you staring at me? Did you miss me that much, brother?”
“What did you do?” I swipe my phone, looking for any signs of her shenanigans.
“God,” she says dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Can’t a girl just be happy for no reason?”
I eye her with suspicion. I hate to admit it but she probably hasn’t done anything wrong. Damon’s right; I’m getting obsessive. Not everything is about Ashley.
“I think this color would go really well with your wedding decor, don’t you think?” Rosa holds her hand up, showing off her pink, gleaming nail polish.
“Fuck off.” I stab my phone and navigate to an article on narcissism, comparing the bullet points to what I know about Rosa. Elena and I have long suspected our sister of having some mental issues, but of course she thinks she’s perfect.
Rosa laughs. “Hey, I was here first. You were the one who decided to join me.”
“I’m just waiting for Dad.”
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Rosa’s dark hair covers her face as she bends down to continue painting her nails.
“None of your business.” Not creative, I know. I’m repeating myself already and I’ve only been home for a couple of weeks. But the less ammunition I give Rosa, the better.
“Huh. Pity. I was going to ask you to come to a club with me. There’s a girl I want you to meet. She’d be perfect for you,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. Besides, you were just talking about my wedding.”
“Come on. Let’s not pretend it’s going to be a real marriage,” Rosa says. “It’s, what, a month before the wedding? And you’re still going out to clubs and giving women your number.”
“What did you say?” I sit bolt upright. How did she know that?
“So, this friend I want you to meet . . .” Rosa inspects her nails, ignoring me. “You know what? I think I’ll wear purple to your wedding. Or white. I’ve always wanted to wear white to a wedding. You wouldn’t mind, would you, brother?”
I march toward her and slam my hands on the back of the couch. “What did you say about going out to clubs and giving out my number?”
