Page 74 of Ruin
Tommy missed dinner. Again. Not for the second or third time. Not even the seventh or eighth. So many times that I’ve stopped counting. So many that I can’t remember the last time he actually sat across from me at this table, or came with me to the farmer’s market, or showed up for coffee, or went out with me and our friends.
I’ve been navigating my life solo for months now.
I know why—school, his internship, and those endless “jobs” Aurelio sends him on. That last part feels intentional, like his father’s personal campaign to carve me out of Tommy’s life. Still, I tell myself to be happy for him. He’s chasing everything he’s ever wanted: finishing law school, securing a permanent spot with Councilman Donovan, setting up investments for “our forever.” His words.
The door bangs open. Tommy rushes in, tossing his soft briefcase onto the couch, already halfway down the hall.
“Hello?” I call out.
He pops his head back around the corner. “Hey, sorry, Gi. I have to meet Vin and Matti.”
He disappears again as I glance at the clock. “It’s almost 7:30. Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a burrito earlier.”
I follow him to the bedroom carrying my dinner plate and eat while he strips out of his suit and shrugs into black jeans and a t-shirt.
“You know,” I say around a forkful of salmon, “it’s a good thing you’re so fucking hot.”
He casts a quizzical look at me over his shoulder as he sorts through a pile of clothes on the chair. “Oh, yeah?”
“I made dinner for you. Again. And you didn’t show. Again. Sound familiar?” I chew slowly, watching the wheels in his head grind, trying to flip through mental notes until he finds the one markeddinner.
“I don’t think so. Have you seen my ball cap? The black one?”
“Seriously? I said, ‘Do you want me to make that salmon before it goes bad?’ And you said, ‘Yes, make it Tuesday night.’ And I said, ‘Is 6:30 good because you ghosted me the last three times I planned for 6?’ And you said, ‘Yes.’ Ring any bells?”
His voice is tired. “Gi, it doesn’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
He’s getting a lot better at giving appropriate responses that aren’t rude or dismissive. He kisses me on the cheek and tries to blow past me, but I grab the hood of his hoodie.
He jerks to a stop and closes his eyes briefly, then looks at me,irritation rippling just under the surface. “Gi, I’m late.”
“Yes. You’re late for taking me out for drinks. We were going to have dinner and meet Lexi and some other people at that bar in the Village.”
He scans me from head to toe. “You’re wearing pajamas.”
I sigh. “I am now. I knew when you missed dinner—again—that you were going to bail on the rest. And since you throw a fit when I try to go to bars without you, I changed.”
He exhales, framing my face in his hands. “Gi, if you want to go have drinks, go. Have the driver take you. I’m going to be out all night, so call if you need anything.” He kisses my forehead and slips past me before I can respond.
When the door clicks shut, I stand there blinking.
Well, that’s a first. For almost two years, he hasn’t let me go anywhere alone—not with friends, not with the driver, not even with security. And now? Justgo.
I scowl and set my dinner plate on the table. You know what, fine. If he doesn’t have time for me, I’m not going to hole up here and wait for him.
**
Lexi squeals and shoves another vodka tonic in my hand, showing me the inside of her arm. There’s a phone number scrawled on it. “Adnan is his name. He’s such a fucking face card.”
“You got his number? Why aren’t you going home with him?”
Lexi mock gasps. “Moi? I’d never go home with someone the first night!”
I arch a brow, sip my drink long and slow. We both laugh.
She leans back against the bar. “Nah, I fucked him in the bathroom stall. I’m not calling this guy.”
