He’s going to get me used to that.
Rowan bends and his lips brush across my cheekbone, lingering until he has to pull back. “Text me when you get home.”
“Okay,” I squeak and he smirks down at me. “Okay.”
“Please,” he begs, “actuallytext me.”
I nod and follow my dads outside, leaving Rowan to finish his night in a restaurant that is now overflowing with people waiting for a table. Outside, the cool, late September air feels delicious—comforting after how tight my skin has felt tonight.
“Tonight was really lovely,” Dad says.
“It was,” I agree, and walk beside them toward our cars—they’re driving a rented one so they don’t use their RV around town. “Did you really enjoy everything?”
“Of course we did,” Daddy answers as if to sayduhas we approach their tiny rental. “And I love the two of you together.”
I smile.What would it be like if Rowan and I actually were together?
“Natalia, sweetie,” Daddy begins.
“I’m fine, Daddy,” I lie, with a smaller smile this time. “I’m very,veryhappy. I have my bakery and I…Rowan and I are happy. Very happy.Crazyhappy.”
“Are you sure?” Dad asks, brow arched.
“Yes, Dad,” I say like a teenager, with a toilsome smile.
But what I want to say is,No,I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter because you and Daddy are going to be gone soon,again.You’re going to continue traveling, spending your money until there isn’t one space in the world that you haven’t seen. And it’s okay, because I’m still here. Trapped, yet free, all at once. I will still be here.
“Are yousuresure?” Daddy insists.
I smile and think,It wouldn’t matter if I told them no. They’d tell me to get back into therapy, take the antidepressants, and focus on the good.
The funny thing about “the good” is how it seems to disappear in an instant. “The good” is good to everyone else, but to you it’s just a blur in the same dim room you’re standing still in.
The good is only good when you feel good too.
To them, the bakery is part of “the good,” and it should be.It is.But some days it isn’t, and I don’t think they’d understand that. They’re free—traveling and flying to wherever they feel like going. Yet, I remain stuck as a prisoner in my mind with my dark friend that lurks in its corners.
“All right then, baby,” Dad says, grinning. “We’ll see you tomorrow for brunch?”
“Of course.” I smile and he wraps me up in his arms, suffocating me with his chest. Daddy’s arms come around too, trapping me in a group hug that feels too tight to feel okay. But they are both beyond happy tonight, and I won’t damage that. “All right, baby girl.” Dad yawns. “Love you.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Love you,” Daddy says, getting in the driver’s side.
“Love you,” I say to both of them.
I wave at them and they wave back through the windows as I walk a few cars down to my beloved Chevy Trax. I named her Wednesday when I got her, and I plan to keep her forever. It’s once I’m inside and locking the doors that my dads drive off to the B&B. Finally, I drive off to my apartment, wishing I had just stayed with Rowan.
But he has a job—a business to run. He’s a chef; it’s what he’s always loved to do. I was almost disappointed he wasn’tthe one cooking tonight, but I am glad he was the person sitting beside me as my rock.
It doesn’t take long until I’m parking across the street from my building. I get home to Binx and a silent apartment, and I think aboutitagain—leaving it all behind. It would be really easy. I don’t have much. Nothing to leave behind for anyone, just my pretty little cat who is also one of my best friends.
I fall onto my couch with a sigh and take off my heels, leaving them off to the side as I curl up on the cushions. Binx hops on beside me and curls up against my chest. “Hey there,” I croak, petting her soothing, black fur. “You’d miss me, right?”
Binx purrs.
“I hoped so.” I scratch at the top of her head. “I’d miss you too. But it’d be selfish of me to take you with me.” Binx becomes a black blur in the clouds blocking my vision. “I sometimes think you should have gotten a different human. Don’t you?”
