And what makes me want to destroy something every time I stop myself from calling her.
For the first time in days, I feel somewhat relaxed, sitting across the table from Pippa at our favorite restaurant. I haven't seen her in over a week. Throughout our childhood, we were glued to each other. It only stopped when I went to college and she went… wherever she did. Plumbing school? As soon as I went to college, she started working her odd jobs.
"What's with you lately? You always seem a million miles away," Pippa complains.
It's true. And she deserves better. I put down the phone. "I'm all yours."
"Hmm," she harrumphs.
I close my eyes and roll them so she doesn't see. What am I doing lying to my best—only—friend?Doesn't need to know? I'm already sounding like a mafia wife. I might as well go back to Marcello for a repeat of the best sex of my life. Everything else is already fucked up, so why not reap the benefits?
"Okay, you're doing it again. Honestly, Vi, what the hell is going on with you? I thought you would be happy that you have the funds now to buy yourself a fixer-upper."
She's right. I should be happy. But not even looking through listings of fixer-uppers can raise the dark mood I've been in for days now, ever since I broke it off with Marcello.
And it has nothing to do with the feeling of being watched. I'm sure it's Marcello keeping tabs on me. Which actually makes me feel a bit better. Knowing he still cares enough to have his men watch me is… reassuring. Maybe I should call him? Text him?
Yeah, right, and what are you going to say? I'm horny? I miss you—let's have another one-nighter? Want a booty call?
"Oh my God, Earth to Vi! You're doing it again." She lifts her glass of water. "If you don't tell me right now what's going on with you, I'm going to throw this water in your face."
I laugh. "Here? In the middle of the restaurant?"
She looks dead serious, daring me.
"Fine!" I concede that she'll follow through with her threat. I have to unburden myself to someone. And if I can't do it with my best friend, then who?
"Alright, I think I messed up."
"Oh, sweetie. With whom?"
I laugh dryly, "How do you know it's a guy?"
She tilts her head to the side and wiggles her eyebrows, "Because despite all the shit you've been through, I've never seen you this gloomy before. It has to be a man. Only men can make you this miserable."
This time, I laugh out loud. She's right.
"Remember my patient?"
"The mafia guy?" She slaps her lips and looks around with wide eyes as if worried someone might have overheard her little blunder. "Shut up!"
I nod sadly.
"Yep. I committed the cardinal sin. I fell for my patient."
"What happened?"
I give her the abbreviated version, not leaving thebest sex of my lifepart out, because. Well, it's a big part of the story, and sheismy best friend.
"Oh my God, Violet Meade, I could slap you right now. You broke up with him? Why in the world would you do that?"
I down the last of my wine. "Seemed the sensible thing to do at the time."
"Sensible thing?" she echoes.
"Look, what would happen to Mom if I died?" Saying it out loud now sounds like a weak argument, so I add, "I could have been killed in the hospital, Pippa. Killed."
"Yeah," she moves her head from side to side, giving that argument some thought, "but you weren't."
