“With Lucas?”
“With the friend.”
My lips press together into a thin line. “Nothing. He slept with me, found out I knew nothing, told me this has all been for nothing, and left the hotel room. I left as well.”
I marvel at how calmly I can relay the facts now, like my heart never shattered at the cold look in Ethan’s eyes, the sheer disgust that replaced the warmth I thought I’d seen there.
“How did Lucas find out?” Sarah is determined to extract all the details from me, it seems.
“I called him when I got back home. His reaction wasn’t what I expected.” I leave it at that, forcing my attention down to the pasta.
But Sarah is like a dog with a bone. “How did he react?”
“Sarah,” I groan.
“You brought it up!” she protests. “Can you blame me for wanting to know the deets? And you never talk about your family, Nat!”
I glare at her. “For good reason.”
She just grins at me, and I sigh, twirling the pasta around the fork. “He wasn’t happy. That was his reaction.”
“And that ruined his life?” Sarah leans forward, her curiosity practically radiating off her. “Come on. What did he do?”
I love this girl, but sometimes she’s too nosy for her own good.
“He lost his temper,” I say quietly. “It didn’t end well.”
I swallow painfully, trying hard not to recall the way mybrother shoved me to the ground, his fist making contact with my skin, the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth.
“My mother sided with him. She cut ties with me.”
When I hear the sound of something slamming on the counter, my head jerks up. Sarah is glaring at me with righteous indignation. “And you’re paying off her gambling debts?!”
“I... I have no one, Sarah,” I say quietly. “My father left when I was six. My mother and brother are all the family I have left.”
“So make a new family.” My friend looks genuinely upset now. “Date someone, get married, have kids, boom! New family!”
I have to laugh at the simplicity of the idea she’s presenting, and some of my heavy mood lifts. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Nat.” She touches my hand, her expression creased with concern. “She’s using you. The way she talks to you isn’t how a normal mother talks to her child. It’s obvious she’s using you.”
“I know.” I tap the side of my head. “In here, I know that. In here, I can’t seem to see it.” I point at my chest. “In my heart, I want my Mom, you know. Like you have yours.”
My voice grows thick, and I lower my gaze, the lump of emotion in my throat making it hard to speak.
“Natalie.”
I give her a pained smile. “I would rather not talk about it. I don’t even know why I brought it up today. It’s not something I like to think about.”
Sarah is quiet, and she shoves a mouthful of pasta in her mouth. After a few contemplative seconds, she says, “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it. But just for the record, I hate your mother even more now.”
“Duly noted,” I say gravely.
She gives me a half-smile before taking another bite. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while I savor the hot food filling my empty stomach.
When I came back to New York three years ago, I didn’t likethe idea of living by myself, so I advertised for roommates. Sarah was the first person to respond, and she simply never left.
“I’m so lucky to have a sous-chef as my flatmate,” I sigh happily, letting the creamy pasta drive away the grim atmosphere in the kitchen. “I didn’t have the strength to cook. I was just going to get takeout. This is so much better.”
