Shawn looked like I’d just punched him in the stomach.
“Giana, come on… you’re not stupid. Please tell me you don’t believe what you just said.”
My brows shot up into my hairline, and I stared at him incredulously for one moment before I turned on my heels. “Wow. Goodbye, Shawn.”
He followed me despite the farewell and my attempt to shut the glass door behind me before he could catch it.
“He isn’t good for you, he isn’t good period.”
I spun to face him. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know how he treats you,” he said, his nose flaring, chest puffing like he was my shining knight riding in to save me. “That’s enough.”
I fought the urge to laugh, letting out a long, slow sigh. “Shawn, I promise — it’s not all that I made it seem. You don’t—”
“Don’t tell me I don’t understand. I saw how he made you cry, how he made you feel worthless and disrespected with his mouth on another girl’s body right in front of you.”
I battled with the decision on whether to tell him about the whole ruse, but decided it wasn’t for him — or anyone else — to know.
“We’ve worked through things,” I landed on, reaching out to squeeze Shawn’s forearm. “And I’m sorry I brought you into the situation. I shouldn’t have. It was wrong of me, and selfish. But… we’re okay now. We’re better than okay.”
Shawn shook his head. “Don’t you see? This is how guys like him work. They’ll push and push you until you’re on the edge of leaving, and then they’ll do whatever it takes to lure you back in. It’s him who’s the selfish one.”
My defenses shot up, more for Clay than for myself. “I’m done having this conversation. You don’t know him. You don’t know me, for that matter.”
“That’s not for my lack of trying.”
I blew out a breath, though I couldn’t deny how his words stung. It wasn’t like me to play games with people, and though I hadn’t really intended to — that was exactly what I’d done with him.
“I have to go,” I said. “Take care, okay?”
Before he could say another word, I turned, heading toward the stadium and leaving him on the sidewalk outside the café. I felt bad for him, for the game we’d played that had worked so well. We’d fooled him and Maliyah and everyone else around us, too.
But I shook it off, deciding it was better to leave all that in the past.
And I continued floating on, basking in my sugary, pastel paradise.
Clay
I’d forgotten about her.
Perhaps that was the wrong way to phrase it, because it sounded like I never thought about my mom — and I did. I thought about how I couldn’t wait to introduce her to Giana, how delighted she’d be when I told her we were coming home for Christmas. I thought about her cooking in the kitchen with G, teaching her how to make our favorite salmon croquets, and pulling out old photo albums of me as a kid while I pretended to be embarrassed.
But I’d forgotten about her quitting her job because she thought her ex would take care of her.
I’d forgotten how beat up she was mentally and emotionally, how she was having trouble doing more than getting out of bed, let alone looking for a job. I’d forgotten about her using, about the way I could tell by her words slurring over the phone.
Maybe it was because she hadn’t called after the last time, when I took out a student loan and sent her enough money to get through at least a month, if not two. Maybe it was because I wanted to assume the best, that she was okay, that she was working on getting a job and finding herself. Maybe it was because I was so caught up in Giana that I simply hadn’t thought about anything else.
Regardless, the fact that I’d forgotten about her struck me like a frying pan to the head when her face lit up my screen after practice on a Thursday afternoon in early November.
My stomach dropped, veins running icy cold as I stared at the word Mom and felt the phone vibrating in my hand. It was selfish, how I didn’t want to answer because I didn’t want to face her misery, her pain, her tears.
And the fact that once again, I’d have to find a way to help her.
I was running out of ideas.
My heart was heavy, a sandpaper knot in my throat as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen and plugged my headphones in, setting my pace toward my dorm room.
“Hey, Mom,” I answered. “You okay?”
“Oh, sweetie,” she answered on a sniff, the words garbled by crying.
I braced myself.
“I’m more than okay.”
Something more like confusion, rather than relief, found my next exhale, especially as Mom continued to cry as I waited for her to explain.
“We’ve been blessed with a miracle,” she said. “The Lord has shined his almighty light upon us.”
I stopped walking. “Holy shit, did you win the lottery?”
“Language!” She chastised with a laugh. “And I guess you could say I did.”
“Mom, what’s going on?”
I continued walking, hiking my bag up over my shoulder.
“It’s Cory.”
I frowned, and though I had no reason to be anxious, something inside me was on high alert. “Cory? As in Maliyah’s dad?”
“The very one,” she confirmed. “I don’t know what happened. I mean, Maliyah called me last night to catch up — which was so nice, by the way. I haven’t really talked to her since you two split up, and it was just so lovely to hear from her.”
My lips flattened. “Mm-hmm.”
“Anyway, so we were talking, and you know how close we are. She’s always given me such great advice when it comes to men.” She paused. “Should be the other way around, ages considered.”
“Mom,” I said, dragging her back to the point.
“Well, I was telling her about the restaurant, and about… about Brandon.” Her voice cracked a little with his name. “And she was just so sweet, listening to me being all heartbroken.” She sniffed. “And I guess she must have told her dad about the whole thing, because he called me earlier today.”
I waited, heart picking up pace in my chest like it knew well before I did that something was wrong.
“He’s going to help us, baby,” she said, all joy through her tears. “He came by this afternoon with a check for ten-thousand dollars.”
“He what?!”
“I know! I know,” she said, like I was excited when the truth was I was fucking appalled. “He wanted us to have enough to get through the holidays, so I could focus on getting better instead of getting a job. Oh, I can’t tell you the relief it brought me. I feel… I feel… loved.”
She choked on the word, all while I tried to force a calming breath.
“He’s a good man. A good father,” she added. “Much better than your own. If I’d have been a smarter woman, I would have gone on a date with him when they all came into my diner that night.”
“Mom.”
“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she said, and I could picture her waving me off even as we both knew she wasn’t joking, not even a little bit.