“Here,” I growl as I hand Starling the leash and then shove my hands into my pockets. The little demon gives me a smug smirk, a rarity that only comes out when she’s won an argument. “Fuck off,” I add, but Chiara’s attention has already shifted to Benz’s tail-wagging, happy figure.
“You’re going to be pissed about that the whole day now, aren’t you?” Graham asks, and I shoot him an annoyed look.
Of course I’m going to be pissed. I hate that smirk of hers. I hate that my dog chose her over me. I hate that I care so damn much about every single interaction I have with this woman, that she takes up so many of my thoughts and so much of my energy.
“She’s a pain,” is all I say, but Chiara and Benz are walking ahead of us now. Just to annoy me, she’s skipping as if she’s pure sunshine, my dog happy as fuck right by her side.
“When will you stop denying that you like her?” Graham says, and I let out a harsh snort.
“She could be the last woman on the planet, and I’d rather let humanity die out,” I reply, feeling my chest tighten at my words like it does when I lie.
Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and ignore that.
CHAPTERFOUR
chiara
There is nothing I dread more than going to Mamma’s house. I love her more than anyone else, but her roommate of six years is… he’s a horrible man. At least to me. Mamma insists he’s never harassed her and mostly leaves her alone, except to discuss things regarding their flat. Me, on the other hand, he harasses every single time I go there and he decides to join my mother and me for the homemade meals she prepares. It always taints the joyful moment I try to have with her, eating my Nonna’s recipes and trying to feel connected to my home again. My true home. Not England. I’ve never, and will never, consider this country my home. I may not remember much about Italy from when I was living there as a child, but I visit often enough. I even remember the deep-rooted feeling of safety and happiness wrapped in nostalgia I feel when I step into my Nonna’s home.
So, going to Mamma’s is the last thing I want to do today, especially because she let me know Tim is going to be there. She has no idea that every time I come over and he’s there, he makes some sort of advance. She doesn’t know he makes inappropriate comments about my body and face. I can’t tell her that he’s groped me once or twice over the years. Mamma relies on him to pay for more than half her rent and has been since I moved in with Graham six years ago. Tim thinks she owes him money now, and it fucking sucks. It sucks because it’s my fault. If I hadn’t moved out, she never would have looked for a roommate in the first place. I could have paid rent, and the person I love most in the world wouldn’t have to stay with a vile man like Tim. It’s all my fault for wanting to be more independent and stop relying on Mamma so much. I’m the only one to blame.
That’s why I don’t say anything. Mamma is in this situation because of me, and we have very limited options. She relies on him to pay. She refuses to come live with me and Graham. She doesn’t get hurt or harassed by him, according to her, so that’s at least a little bit of a relief for me. I don’t have money to pay for her either. I wish I did. God, I want nothing more than to get her away from Tim, but I can barely pay for my rent and utilities. The saddest part about that fact is that I work four separate jobs to scrap my rent and food money together. I’m a dog walker, I work at the immersive art exhibition, I pick up some shifts at my local bookstore whenever I can, and I spend my nights bartending at a popular club downtown. My jobs are all in fields that I love, except for the bartending one, but it gets exhausting when I hardly have time to rest my eyes or go on adventures with Graham.
I snap myself out of my thoughts, blinking back the anger I know has settled in my eyes in response to the thought of seeing Tim. I fucking hate him and the way he makes me feel about myself. He’s cruel, and I know it, but it doesn’t make interactions with him any less bothersome. I shudder at the reminder of what happened last time. The way he’d stared at my tits and when I’d asked him what his fucking problem was, he’d replied, “Just imagining what my hands would look like on those juicy tits of yours.” I’d almost thrown up and then castrated him, but Mamma walked into the room, and I had to pretend nothing happened.
I can’t not go to see Mamma either. There aren’t many times a month we both have a morning off at the same time, like today. Usually, I spend those with her since Graham and I squeeze some time in whenever I’m between my job shifts. He also works two jobs, but he makes more money babysitting for some famous couple I always forget the name of. They’re only locally known and for something social media related.
“Bellissima,” Mamma says as soon as she opens the door for me.
My arms wrap around her center since she’s quite a bit taller than me, and hers slide across my shoulders, hugging me close to her chest. As soon as I feel her comfort seep through my skin, exhaustion consumes me. I’m so goddamn tired. I only get about four hours of sleep a night. Bartending is kicking my ass, even if I’m incredibly good at it. The men that come to see me, my regulars, love the fact that I never smile. They think it’s a challenge to crack one out of me, but they’re so revolting toward me, they never succeed. And they never will. The only upside is that they tip me well.
“Are you hungry?” she goes on in our mother tongue, and I flash her a look I hope says ‘do you even know me?’. Mamma lets out a soft laugh before waving me into the flat. I’m on high alert, but Tim is nowhere to be seen. That forces a sigh of relief to escape me.
“How are you, Mamma?” I ask in Italian as we start working in the kitchen to get lunch ready. I lay the table and finish the salad while Mamma finishes up the gnocchi in a tomato sauce for which I am still waiting to get the recipe. It’s Nonna’s specialty.
“Fine,tesoro. How have you been?” she asks, and I share how stressful work has been for me. Mamma listens closely, asking me follow-up questions. Then, she goes straight for an uncomfortable one I’ve been trying to avoid for as long as possible.
“What are you going to do with that art degree, Chiara? You need to start looking for a job in your field and stop killing yourself working at places that don’t pay you enough to survive on,” she reminds me, and I suck in a sharp breath, feeling a stinging sensation pull through my chest.
“Graham and I are saving up for our immersive art gallery,” I say, my voice sounding weak and unsure. Mamma gives me a small smile, ready to destroy my dream a little with reality.
“Okay,” is all she says, and it knocks me backward a little.She won’t fight me on this?“I believe in you, but youaredestroying yourself trying to achieve something that is beyond difficult,” she adds, and I nod in response.
I know it’s hard. Fuck, it’s almost impossible. Graham and I have hardly saved any money for our dream, but I never thought it’d be easy. Neither of us did. I’m struggling a bit right now, but it’ll get easier. We will save enough money, I know we will. Working four separate jobs might be slowly killing me, but Mamma did the very same thing for ten years when I was younger to support us. It’s also why I spent most of my time at the Tick’s house and why I’m so close with Graham’s mother.
“Don’t worry about me, Mamma. I’m more worried about you. You’re still working too hard, and the doctor said you need to slow down unless you want your heart to give out on you sooner than it should,” I remind her, which was the biggest reason why I wanted to come here.
Three years ago, Mamma gave me the fright of my life when she passed out in the middle of the bookstore. I dragged her there because my favorite author’s new book had come out that day. The doctor had told us she needed to slow down, which, for Mamma, was not an option. She hardly made enough money to stay here as is, and she said she couldn’t afford to stop taking shifts at the local bakery. She wakes up at four in the morning, works all day, and goes to bed late because she prepares the dough for the next day already. I guess she and I aren’t different at all, except I don’t have her heart condition—knock on wood. She needs to take things slower, otherwise, I will lose her, and I can’t afford that.
“You know I can’t do that. I don’t have an option,” she says, and I shake my head, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I take several quiet, deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat.
“Come live with Graham and me until we find a better solution.” She snorts at my words, but I’m not even slightly amused. “I am not joking,” I say, my voice firm. Mamma spins around, her heart-shaped lips pulling into a thin line.
“Actually, Chiara, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,” she says, and my heart skips several beats.
This cannot be good. Mamma is hardly ever serious, and never to the extent she is now. After she fainted at the bookstore and came to, she started laughing and telling me that her thick head broke her fall. I could only stare at her in disbelief.
“Tell me,” I reply, watching her mouth open in response before an awful tingle runs down my spine. Fuck.
