Diego hums in agreement. Then we’re fine. Em goes back to being an idiot, talking nonsense. Diego talks about his professor girlfriend and about him and her going motorbiking through Italy this summer while taking her father back to their family home there. It feels almost normal. Almost like I’m not counting the clock to see when this so-called space ends. When Diego gets up to hit the can, Em turns to me.
“Hey, brother. For the record? I’m not okay with her leaving either. Like I’m just out here vibing, you know? I’m not. I miss her too.”
CHAPTER 21
SOFIA
By the time I clock out Tuesday night, the overhead lights in the ICU feel like they’ve been drilled straight into my skull. Every beep, every rhythmic whoosh of the vents from the last twelve hours, echoes so far into my brain that I feel it in my bones. We saved a lot of people tonight. Didn’t lose any, thankfully. But I feel like I’ve gone to war and back.
My scrubs cling to me more than usual. Dampness clusters at the back of my neck. My sneakers squeak on the too-clean floor as I head for the locker room to collect my stuff. All I want is a hot shower, a warm meal, my bed, and Paco curled by my neck like a little space heater with a snore.
Instead, I have another thought that has been haunting my mind for days.
A big modern kitchen I don’t belong in. The smell of bacon. Emilio sings off-key with my furry baby strapped to his chest. Massimo watches me like I’m more than just a fun weekend, more than a nurse, more than a body he can bend over his counter.
Three days since I told them I needed space. Three days after I watched his face shudder, I climbed into his car, and he drove me home. Three days since he walked me to my door, checked my apartment, and would rather die than leave me unprotected. Three long days of avoiding them like a drug I can’t afford to buy.
I shove my locker open harder than necessary. My phone clatters out of the little shelf and falls into my palm. Two new texts from Massimo, sandwiched between a string of unanswered ones. My stomach tightens.
Thinking of you like I always do. By now, I don’t expect a reply. But I want you to know you never leave my mind.
A few hours later, another one.
I know I shouldn’t ask, but are you okay? Okay with this silence? I’m trying, baby. It’s hard. I miss you. If you need anything at all, I’m there. Please ask.
Under that, further down, sits a bunch from his brother.
hows our son
does he miss me
I miss him
miss you
mas misses you
my chubby misses
do you miss my chubby
Then a video shows his cock way too close. Mas yells at him and slaps the phone out of his hand. It falls to the floor as they argue about not sending me inappropriate stuff to scare her away. Emilio says chicks love dick pics.
I laugh, too exhausted to care about their antics. And grateful, the locker room is vacant, or else my coworkers would be all in my business. Another message suddenly pops up from him.
They’re floating in the pool. Paco’s eyes are squeezed shut. Emilio’s glistening chest and abs from the sun look like a Greek god, and his pink bathing suit shows far too much of what he has. It makes me laugh again.
joint custody my angel
dont forget its my weekend
My thumb hovers over the keyboard without moving. The itch to type a million different things with the equally strong urge to throw my phone into the nearest biohazard bin and forget about them.
If I text back, I break my word.
If I don’t, I keep it.
“Ugh,” I mutter, rubbing the heel of my hand over my face. “Stop thinking, Sofia. Just breathe.”
