“I like her.”
“Bullshit.” I shake my head, hands hooked on my hips.
“I’m being the better man. Being the man you could never be,” he says. “She had no idea what a piece of shit you were until I told her.”
“The fuck did you tell her?” I spit my words at him.
“Nothing that isn’t true.” Ian tosses his hands in the air and wears a sneer that every part of me is seconds from ripping off his face.
Pulling in a hard breath, I try to calm myself down before I do something stupid.
But it doesn’t work.
And within an instant, I’ve got his shirt collar and tie bunched in my right fist and his back is slammed against the living room wall. His face is turning red and he’s struggling to say something, his eyes wide and fearful.
I’ve done some things in my life that I’m not proud of, but I’m a fucking saint compared to Ian …
“Stop seeing her,” I say, letting him go and watching him slink down the wall like the pathetic slug he is.
“Or what?” he asks.
“Boys, what’s going on?” Ma’s voice disrupts this shit show and Ian adjusts his tie. “Please tell me you two aren’t fighting. You haven’t seen each other in so long and then I walk out for a few minutes and—”
“It’s fine, Ma,” Ian says, offering a reassuring, fake-as-hell smile. “We’re good now, but I should get going. I’m taking Maritza out to dinner tonight.”
His eyes settle on mine, a silent “fuck you,” and then he’s gone.
If he so much as thinks about hurting her, he’s a dead man.
Forty
Maritza
* * *
Pressing ‘save’ on my Word file, I close out of my research paper and email it to my professor. Heading out to the kitchen, I grab a drink of water and check the time. I’m supposed to get dinner with Ian tonight, who’s surprisingly becoming a good friend.
He’s an amazing listener, extremely sympathetic for being a guy, and gives the best advice.
And he’s normal.
Just a nice, normal guy.
No gimmicks, no shtick, just a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person.
Grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, I unscrew the cap and lift it to my lips, only to spill it down my shirt the second someone knocks on my door. It wouldn’t be Mel or Gram because they both have the code to the lock, and I’m not expecting company and even if I were, I never have people ring the buzzer at the gate because I don’t want to bother Gram so I usually have them text me when they’re here.
Dabbing the wet splotches of my shirt with a dish towel, I get as much as I can before tiptoeing across the guesthouse toward the front entrance. Peering through the peephole, I squint until the face comes into focus.
Myles.
Exhaling, I debate pretending not to be home but quickly decide I’m a grown ass woman who doesn’t need to hide from anyone … and also my car is parked out front.
“Myles, hey,” I say when I get the door. “Come on in.”
“Hey.” There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, like a wistful longing when he looks at me.
“What’s up?” I slide my hands down my back pockets and linger in the doorway next to him.
“Was just visiting with my grandmother,” he says. “Thought I’d stop over and say hi. Haven’t seen you in a while …”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped lately with school and work and everything,” I say. “How’ve you been?”
“Good,” he says. “Was actually going to see if you wanted to go to the Art Con Awards with me next month. As my date.” He flashes a nervous grin that disappears in seconds. “You know, as friends.”
“Myles …” I drag in a heavy breath, tilting my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m so sorry.”
He wrings his hands before shoving his thick glasses up his nose. “I tried calling you a while back. You change your number or something?”
“I did. Some psycho kept calling me from a blocked number,” I say.
His gaze immediately falls to the floor and his lips press flat. “I see.”
Oh my God.
It was probably Myles.
The buzzing of my phone in my pocket sends a quick startle to my heart, and I waste no time redirecting my attention.
It’s Ian.
“I’m sorry,” I say, pointing to my phone. “I have to take this. Good seeing you though. Congrats on the script option.”
I get the door, giving him no time to protest or linger, and he leaves without making things more awkward than they already were. Next time I talk to Gram, I’ll have to tell her my suspicions. Maybe then she’ll finally stop wishing and hoping and praying there’s a chance.
“Ian, what’s up?” I answer.
“Hey, I’m so sorry,” he says, the sound of traffic fills the background. He must be driving. “I’m going to have to cancel dinner. My mom had a fall this afternoon and she’s in the hospital. I’m on my way to see her right now.”
“Oh my God. Is she okay?”
He hesitates. “I don’t know. Doctors are trying to figure out why she fell. She said she blacked out, but that’s all we really know right now.”
Ian’s voice breaks a little and the seriousness in his tone breaks my heart. Just last week he was going on and on about how amazing his mother is and all the things she did for him and his siblings before she got sick.
“I want to be there for you,” I say. “Which hospital is she at?”
“Maritza, you don’t have to do that.”
“Ian, we’re friends. That’s what friends do. Let me be there for you. If there’s anything your family needs, I’ll be the gopher. If anyone needs a babysitter or someone to entertain the kids or something, I can be that person.”
He hesitates at first and for a moment I wonder if I’ve overstepped some boundary I never knew was there, like when I sent Isaiah the giant care package.
“You’re incredible,” he says. “That would be amazing. Thank you. She’s at Good Samaritan on Wilshire.”
“Perfect. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Forty-One
Isaiah
* * *
Calista checks her phone before shoving it in her pocket. “Ian’s on his way.”
Reaching for Mom’s hand, I shrug. “So? I’m not leaving.”
She lifts her hands. “Wasn’t saying you should. Just thought you’d want to know. He’s in the building. Just texted me for Mom’s room number, so he’ll be here any second.”
Mom is sound asleep in her hospital bed at Good Samaritan, monitors beeping as the scent of bleached bedding and antibacterial soap fills the air around us. In the corner, my other sisters, Layla and Raya, talk amongst themselves. My older brother, Marco, is down the hall chatting up one of the nurses, though he claimed he was just going to get an update.
Guess the gang’s all here.