“Rough night, but she’ll get used to the idea.”
This stops me mid-sip, and I lower my mug. “So, you’re going to do it?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says honestly. “We might not have a choice.”
“That’s ridiculous, Talent.” Unable to stomach any of it, I pour my coffee out into the sink and let the mug fall from my hand in a clatter. I brace myself against the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white and the burns on my fingers bite back. “The thought of you… of Wilder being in that family,” I say like a curse. “It sickens me.”
“There’s so much you don’t understand, Camilla. We’ve known these people our entire lives. Nico was like a brother to us. This idea of Wilder and me being made men was put in motion long before Lydia ever stepped foot into my office. Something went down and Nico left town a couple of years ago, but when he showed up at your party, we knew it was only a matter of time before it came up again. Hush ties our hands, but this isn’t your fault.”
I scoff. “A matter of time? Twelve hours? Pray Giovanni has a healthier sense of measure before we end up in ditches.”
Talent laughs and rests his hand on my shoulder. He says softly, “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jerking my head in his direction, I ask, “Do you really think that’s what I’m worried about?”
Talent pulls me into his embrace and wraps his arms around my back, resting his chin on the top of my head. “No, I don’t. I know I keep saying this, but you and Lydia are exactly the same. It’s wonderful and fucking terrifying.”
Hugging Talent is how I would imagine hugging an older brother, safe, secure, and familiar. This is only speculation. I have two brothers, but they never touched me, let alone embraced me when I needed comfort. They existed in the background like white noise on an old television, and no one ever changed the channel. We were born to the same parents and grew up in the same house. They have the same gold eyes and mousy, brown-colored hair as me, but that’s where the similarities end.
I spent eighteen years of my life with strangers.
“I hate to break this up, but Yael is waiting for us,” Lydia says, fastening a diamond bracelet around her wrist. When she can’t get it clasped, she holds her wrist out to Talent.
There’s nothing to be done about the swelling in her eyes after an entire day and night of crying, but she did her best to cover it up with a smoky eye and dramatic liner. She’s skipped the bloodred lipstick for something neutral, and her dark hair is parted down the middle and board straight. It nearly hangs down to her waist now and shines like silk in the early morning sun.
“Are you coming by the office after your appointment?” she asks over Talent’s shoulders.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I square my shoulders and pour myself another cup of coffee. I won’t drink it, but it’s what she expects me to do. I don’t want to give her more cause for worry by acting out of the ordinary. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
With her bracelet secured around her wrist, she rests her palm against Talent’s cheek and smiles sweetly. He goes on to grab their coats and an umbrella. The sun is peeking through the clouds now, but the forecast calls for rain.
“You’ve come to the office every day for the last two weeks? Why the change?”
I can’t face Wilder,I think to myself.Because of the way he avoided me in the car and drove away without a word. I’m ashamed.
“Have you seen my laundry basket?” I feign embarrassment. “I usually do it on Saturdays, but who wants to spend their birthday at the laundromat?”
Talent holds out Lydia’s coat, and she slips into it one arm at a time. He pulls her hair free, and she says, “That can wait. Come to the office when you’re done.”
I’ve never been called to the principal’s office because I didn’t attend public school, but like the brother thing, I imagine this is what that feels like, too.
“And, Camilla.” Lydia stands at the front door with her hand on the handle. “Lock up after us. Don’t leave before your driver gets here, and don’t answer it for anyone. Don’t answer it for Dog Mom. Don’t answer it for those shitty kids from Building C.”
She sucks in a breath to keep adding names to the list of people I shouldn’t answer the door for, but I wave her on. “Got it. Don’t answer the door.”
“Get to your appointment and come to the office right after.” She closes the door only to swing it open again. “No pit stops. Apartment. Appointment. Ridge & Sons. That’s it.”
“Lydia, go.” I laugh, and I mean it.
I don’t have to imagine this is what it feels like to have someone care about my well-being. This time, I know for certain.
Two hours later, not-Yael drops me off in front of Herring Chiropractic, a small practice without much of a staff in a quieter part of the city. No crowded lobbies, no elevators, and no pushy receptionist to deal with today. I’m the only person in the waiting room, and after I scribble my name on the sign-in sheet and ring the bell, I sit peacefully and wait for the next hour to begin.
Lewis Herring is a boring lover.
He spreads me open on a massage table, lifts up my skirt, rolls on a condom, and spends the next fifteen to twenty minutes pumping in and out of me in missionary. On occasion, when he’s in a particularly good mood, he’ll lift my leg over his shoulder or ask me to get on top. But he’s keeping it easy today, and I am so gosh darn thankful for such small blessings.
When he saw the bruises across the top of my thighs, I waved it off and encouraged him to continue. But now that he’s inside my body, thrusting against my sore middle, I bite my bottom lip and hold on to his shoulders to keep from crying out.
