I have to do it in such a way that they don’t expect to move with me. Because hell no.
“Guys…” I wait until they’re both looking at me. “I’m moving out.”
Felix’s mouth drops open. “What? Why? Did you meet someone?”
“No, I…” Shit. “There’s a house I can move into. I can’t bring roommates, though. But don’t worry, I’ll still pay?—”
“What the fuck, Madison? We have a good system.” Felix throws his arms out to gesture at the entire apartment—the entire apartment that I cleaned last night in a fit of post-inheritance nerves. “Hugo, tell her.”
Hugo looks up from the car race on TV. “I like you living here. You’re nice, and you get us groceries when we’re out of food.”
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, I struggle not to roll my eyes. I clean. I run errands. I’m probably the only thing standing between the two of them and scurvy. “Either way, guys, my situation has changed. I’ll pay my share of the rent until our lease is up in November, but I’m not paying utilities since I won’t be here.”
Felix swears under his breath before stalking out of the living room and down the hall. A second later, his bedroom door slams.
“Wow,” Hugo says, his eyes on the car race. “He’s really mad. I’m sad you’re leaving, but I’ll help you with heavy boxes if you want.”
“Thanks, Hugo.” My heart softens. When I go to the store to buy moving boxes, I’ll get him some of those instant ramen packets he likes. I have a feeling that once I’m gone, he won’t be eating much else.
8
MADISON
I do my hair and make-up to the soundtrack of Felix swearing at his racing game. I have to side-step some boxes of books and bedding because my room has become my staging area to pack for the move.
While I haven’t moved to Great-Aunt Vivienne’s house yet—I wanted to give Ford plenty of time to make his exit in case he hasn’t already—I’ll start bringing things over tomorrow. I’m ready to get out of this apartment. Felix is sulking, and Hugo is being his general clueless self. On the bright side, at least they aren’t still trying to talk me out of leaving.
With my hair and make-up done, it’s time to get dressed. I open the garment bag and gaze at my new purchase. My dress is a deep gray, and made of the softest fabric I’ve ever touched.
Reverently, I take it from the hanger and put it on.
The dress is perfect, but the zipper is a bitch. I knew this when I tried it on at the store yesterday. The dress was so beautiful, though, that I gaslit myself into believing it would be easy to put it on at home.
Nope.
But I’d rather die than ask Felix for help.
I twist as much as I can, contorting my arm to bend so I can tug up the stupid zipper. Just when I think I’ve got it, my phone rings.
I let it ring. Whoever’s calling, it can’t be important. Unless it’s one of the financial planners Ms. Rubio recommended. But why would they be calling at eight on a Friday night?
The phone stops ringing, then starts again. Sighing, I walk over to my phone to see who it is. My dress is half-hanging from my body. I just need to get it zipped, that’s all. Then I’m good to go.
When I see the caller ID, I take a deep, fortifying breath. It’s Jaclyn. Why the hell is she calling me? She usually texts.
I consider ignoring her, but she’ll keep calling me if I don’t answer. Bracing myself, I pick up.
“Madison, glad I caught you.” She sounds puffed up with self-importance. “I need you to work the Kliv…the Kliv…”
“Khlyvnyuk?” I ask, tugging again at my zipper.
“Yeah, them. Their anniversary.”
“That’s tonight, Jaclyn. I have the night off.”
“We’re short-staffed. You need to be there.”
“I can’t.” I finally get my zipper up, thankfully without pulling a muscle in my shoulder. “Let me guess—the reason we’re short-staffed is you want Friday night off?”
