“Like… villa with a private doctor rich.”
She whistles. “Now, that’s a guy I’d be glad to have over for dinner.”
“Mom!”
“Not right away,” she says placatingly. “I know how embarrassed you get. But someday.”
Someday.The word settles uncomfortably in my chest. Will I even still be here, someday? Will Riccardo even remember me?
Or will he move on to the next woman on the list?
Stupid,a voice inside me counters.There’s no list. There’s only you.
But why?I ask back, desperate for an answer I won’t get. Riccardo could have anyone. Actresses, models, barely legal pop stars.Anyone. Yet, he’s here with me.
I pick at a loose thread on the blanket. “I just don’t understand what he sees in me. He’s got everything. I’m just me.”
Mom is silent for a second. “You say that like you’re a consolation prize.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“You are. And you shouldn’t.”
I swallow hard. “He could have any woman he wants, Mom. Any. Beautiful ones. Fancy ones. Women who aren’t working double shifts on minimum wage. Who…”Don’t have debt,I almost say, but don’t. The last thing I want is for my mother to feel guilty. It’s not her fault she’s sick, and she shouldn’t think that for a second.
Nice,my inner voice deadpans.Wanna apply that logic to yourself for a change?
I must have been quiet too long, because Mom pulls out her Mom Voice. “Savannah Cross,” she says. “Look at me.”
“Mom, it’s a phone call?—”
“Look. At. Me.”
I stare at the blank TV in front of me like she’s right inside it. “Okay. I’m looking.”
“Good. Because I want you to hear this. Anyone—anyone—would be lucky to have you. You’re hardworking. You’re sweet. You’re loyal. You cook better than half the chefs in the city. Above all, you love with your whole heart.”
My chest tightens.
“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re nothing,” she says. “Not to me. Not to yourself. And definitely not to some man.”
I lift my knees to my chest. “He feels different,” I admit quietly. “Sometimes I think he really wants me.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“But…” I bite my lip. “What if I end up being a burden?”
I think of everything that makes me a burden already: my debt. My condition. The fact that I’m now probably jobless, and even if I wasn’t, I’d still just be a glorified kitchen slave. Not anyone important. No match for?—
“Savannah.”
I press my forehead to my knees. “Yeah.”
“Don’t you dare shoulder the weight of the world alone. Not again.”
I don’t respond.
She sighs. “You’re doing it again.”
