Page 96 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“Tomorrow, then. Eight o’clock.”
He turns and disappears into the night, leaving me to wonder if he knew I was about to tell him I want to call the whole thing off.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I walk into my bedroom to find a disaster zone.
Dragged from the open suitcase in the corner, my clothes are strewn all over the floor, shredded into pieces. In shock, I pick up a T-shirt and inspect the damage. Judging by the size of the rips and tears in the fabric, it was attacked by a rabid animal with small claws and tiny razor-sharp teeth.
“Beans,” I mutter, fuming.
Evidently Matteo isn’t the only member of the Moretti family I’m at war with.
I clean up the mess, fantasizing about capturing Beans and shaving her coat to resemble a poodle’s. Cornelia is nowhere to be seen. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to get in trouble for her sister’s bad behavior.
I go to bed without dinner, too exhausted to eat. In the morning, I’ve got bags under my eyes and a headache that feels like someone’s having a go at my skull with a sledgehammer. I shower and dress, grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table, and leave before the sun’s up.
I work until eleven, then call a cab to take me to my appointment at the clinic. I’m in and out in twenty minutes, after having blood and urine drawn and examining all my life choices that led me to this moment. Back at the shop, I order lunch in for the ladies, but I’m too stressed over the thought of the test to eat.
I won’t have the results for two days. So, depending on how things turn out, Brad may or may not have forty-eight hours left to live.
I unblock his number and text him that, so he can suffer along with me.
Within sixty seconds, my phone rings.
“You’re gonna be totally fine,” Brad says when I pick up. “Trust me. It’s all good.”
“Trust you? Really?”
After a pause, he sighs. “Yeah, that was an unfortunate choice of words.”
“Speaking of unfortunate choices, you might want to dial back the swooneration if you ever see Matteo again.”
“Why, is he homophobic?”
I grimace. “Homophobia is such an inaccurate word. It’s not a phobia. No one’s afraid. They’re just an asshole.”
Brad laughs. “I think Samuel L. Jackson might’ve said that.”
“Probably. He’s very wise.”
“Back to the swooneration.”
“Well, from the looks of things, it makes him want to kick your ass.”
After a longer pause than before, he says, “Two things.”
“Shoot.”
“One: You didn’t tell him I was gay, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“You haven’t even come out to your parents. It’s not my place to be spilling your private business all over the world.”
Brad makes a small sound of shock, exhaling quietly. “I can’t believe you’d have my back like that, after what I did.”
