Page 87 of Better Left Unsaid

So, I’d tried my best to stay busy. When I wasn’t buried in work with the magazine, I focused on Isabella and my family.

Although, the issue was almost done and Isabella liked to do her own thing most of the time, so I was left with time on my hands. I’d cooked and burned more food than I cared to admit, and nothing I baked seemed to come out right. It was either too watery, hard like a rock, or tasted like drywall.

I missed my friend—there was no other way to put it. All I really wanted was him back in my life. For things to get back to normal. Even if that meant no more friends with benefits. I just wanted the friends part back.

That might’ve been why I maybe (read: definitely) called (and texted) him a few (okay, more than a few) times recently. Here was just a taste of my obsessiveness:

“Hey, Dom, it’s me. I found a penny on the floor and almost picked it up. I didn’t, though, because it was tails up and I know how you feel about the luck shifting when it’s the wrong side up. Anyway, call me.”

“It’s me again. I just wanted to talk to you, but you’re probably busy, so get back to me when you can.”

Maria:Tried an everything bagel today. You’re right, they’re good.

“Hey, Dom. Isabella won a purple ribbon finally. That’s the one between blue and yellow. Basically, a second-place ribbon. Her birthday is coming up. I think she’s really going to love her cake because she’s been obsessed with strawberries lately. Like more than usual. Um, call me.”

Maria:Can we talk?

“Dom, please call me. I think we should grab a coffee. It’d be nice to hear your voice.”

See, the thing was, I needed to hear from him. We needed to talk this out. It was an absolute necessity.

I wasn’t sure our friendship could survive much more at this point, and I couldn’t let that happen.

My biggest fear now was that this break would lead to him being done with me for good. That he’d realize just how fine his life was without me in it. That he didn’t need our friendship.

But I refused to think that was how things between us would end.

He just had to stop purposefully ignoring me. And making my heart feel like it was as delicate as ever and ready to crumble into tiny pieces like a stale cookie whenever I had a second to myself.

I’d never felt this way before. Like all I wanted to do was slide down a wall and cry my eyes out, then scream as loud as possible before reverting to crying again. What would it feel like if I actually did lose my best friend, and this wasn’t just some temporary distance between us?

It was all so much. Too much. Too many thoughts for eating dinner at a restaurant, a party of one, might I add. Yep, this was what my life had come to—eating dinner at a crowded restaurant, alone. I felt like a loser. And the waiter thought it, too. I may as well have had it stamped on my forehead. Cognitively, I knew there was nothing wrong with eating alone at a restaurant, but that didn’t stop me from feeling any less like—yes, I was going to say it again—a loser.

He smiled softly at me, like he pitied me. The woman who had no friends, no family because her daughter wanted to spend the night with one of her aunts, and no date. Pity was definitely the right sentiment. “Ma’am,” the waiter’s voice broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. “Will you be taking that turtle cheesecake to go?” he asked, placing the pencil behind his ear and the notepad in the pocket of his apron.

I shook my head. “Yes, sorry. I’d like it to go, please.” So I could sit alone in the comfort of my own house and drown my sorrows.

When he was gone, I reached for my white wine and took a sip. I didn’t know why I’d gone out by myself. Scratch that, I knew why. It felt like the best option since I’d been a mess in the kitchen lately. I also thought it might get my mind off of Dom.

How wrong I was on that second one. It was an Italian restaurant and my waiter’s name tag read “Deluca.” No relation, of course, but still. Then I had watched a nearby table like a creeper where the family had been celebrating a little girl’s birthday and a gentleman had stood up, given a toast, and had finished with “Salud!”

When it had been time for dessert, the only thing I wanted was turtle cheesecake. Just as I always did. Only, it felt weird because nine times out of ten, Dom and I shared it.

I supposed that was what happened when someone who was so ingrained in your life was no longer. My world had shifted on its axis these past few weeks, and I was sick of it.

Ugh, I just needed to go home. Isabella was spending the night with Bianca since Knox was away on a business trip, and she wanted the company. Isabella jumped at the opportunity for a little one-on-one time with Bianca. How could I fault her? I was not even a fraction as fun as Bianca on my best day. And these days, I was so far removed from my best days, it wasn’t even funny.

The waiter came back with my to-go box of cheesecake, and I tried my best to muster a smile. “Thank you,” I replied, taking it and getting up to leave since I’d already paid the check. “Have a nice evening.”

“You, too, ma’am,” he responded. Although, based on the way his eyes looked sad and he frowned, he was probably thinking how I’d have anything but a nice evening.

Too bad he wasn’t wrong.

But I didn’t need him or anyone to feel bad for me. I just needed Dom to reach out.

While a big part of me feared he wouldn’t—ever—another very small part of me believed he would. He would call me back. He would. He just. . . needed more time. Yeah, that was all. But how much more time? I wasn’t sure.

My phone rang, and I nearly tripped over my own two feet and fell headfirst straight into a waiter holding a tray of bowls filled to the brim with hot soup as I inelegantly tried to retrieve my phone from my purse.

---