Page 37 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“Not only am I sitting down, I’m ruining my manicure gnawing on my cuticles! Spill, bitch, spill!”
“He’s a fashion designer.”
There’s a strangled sound on the other end of the line, like maybe Jenner’s choking on his tongue.
“And not just any fashion designer. You’ll recognize his name. You own a few of his suits.”
“Oh.” He pants like an overexcited puppy. “I’m having a stroke. I’m having a heart attack. I’ve burst a vessel in my brain. Who is it, Poppins? Who?”
I’m starting to enjoy this and grimly smile. “Matteo Moretti.”
A brief silence, then from Jenner’s throat bursts a long, wavering shriek that could rouse the dead from their graves. “Shut. Up!”
“I’m telling you.”
“You. Liar!”
“Swear to God.”
“No!”
“Yes, honey. One thousand percent yes.” I hear a loud thud and worry I’ve killed my best friend. “Jenner! Are you there?”
“Do you have any idea,” he begins faintly, “any idea how many times I’ve masturbated to the thought of Matteo Moretti?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Dude. TMI.”
“My God, Poppins, he’s the most beautiful man who ever lived. Did you see the spread of him in Italian GQ when he first launched his company?”
“No. I’d never seen a picture of him before. I had no idea what he looked like, which is why I didn’t recognize him at the airport!”
Jenner’s sigh is heavy and full of longing. “Matteo. Oh, my dear sweet Matteo. J’taime. J’adore. Tu es tout pour moi—”
“Please tell me you’re not touching yourself right now.”
He grumbles, “Puritan.”
“Can we get this train back on track? My point of this story is that I’m moving to Florence!”
I hear another sigh, but this one is different. Jenner has an entire vocabulary of sighs, each one nuanced, each one articulate. This one is what I imagine a mother disappointed in her daughter’s choice of husband would sound like. It’s all Where did I go wrong? and How could she be so stupid? and I ruined my vaginal canal for this?
“Darling,” he says gently, “it’s best not to make such huge life decisions when you’re grieving. Moving to another country on a whim isn’t like you. You’re dependable. Reliable. Grounded. What you need right now is therapy, not Italy.”
“Give me one reason why I should come back to the States.”
“Me.”
He says it like What other reason would anyone need? It makes me smile. “I happen to know for a fact that you come to Italy twice a year for Fashion Week. It’s not like we’d never see each other again. You’ll be here next month.”
He makes a noise of impatience. “Need I remind you that you already have a business to run here?”
“Oh yeah. I didn’t tell you about what happened yet.”
My hollow laugh causes Jenner to say, “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh is right. There was this fire, see . . .”
When I don’t continue the sentence because my throat has closed, Jenner says, “No. The universe can’t possibly hate you that much.”
