Instead, I responded to my brother’s text.
BOOBIE: How you holding up? Sis??
ME: Jordyn married an asexual who worships her. No exaggeration. Against my wishes, she’d told me Jamie’s very generous in bed. Sexual assault victims, they can be intense.
Yeah,deflection at its best. My eyes returned to the last line.Sexual assault victims, they could be intense.Take me, for instance. I placed my heart on my sleeve and made myself transparent to Lachlan.
What if my confession bothered him? I was beginning to doubt the spark we had. But … what if … itwaslove?
BOOBIE: Who are these ppl?
BOOBIE: Stop speaking in riddles! Answer my call.
ME: Lemme alone, Boobie. I’M HEARTBROKEN! I deserve some dramatics that aren’t my own. And I know you want the go ahead to kick Lach’s ass.
BOOBIE: I AM VASSILIEVICH KARO RESNOV. NOT BOOBIE Now quit playing and say yes
Ugh,I couldn’t talk to my brother.
“Ms. Resnova, Dr. Vashone will see you now.”
I sat on a dark-green velvet chaise and felt more exposed. Across from me, a Black woman lifted her kind eyes from a clipboard.
Through a tangle of tears, I leaned back against the chaise and spoke. “Lachlan was there for me at night when nobody ever hears me cry.” His kiss drove the monsters away from my dreams. My throat tightened.
Tears blurred the room. I blinked fast, then gave up and let them fall. “But this man—his profile is a photographer’s dream. Clean, powerful lines. A master class in angles and depth. His eyes …” I covered my face, shoulders convulsing as I sobbed into my hands. “His eyes are light and shadow in perfect balance. I didn’t even understand how to maximize light depth until junior year at UCLA.”
“Girl …” The professional in her broke for a moment, then Dr. Vashone schooled her features and straightened in her seat. “He’s handsome, I get it.”
“I don’t even need a SIM card to recall every memory. The way he held me when I cried. When I told him about … Adrian.” I cleared my throat because I still wasn’t ready to tell anyone else about the Russian. I’d just told Lach the truth, and now our relationship had gone up in flames.
A shaky breath escaped.
As I continued, only one person knew the full magnitude of my nightmares, and his arms should’ve been holding me tight.
Tonight,I sat in the basement. An old episode ofAbbott Elementaryon mute while I burrowed beneath a weighted blanket when a text came through.Lorenzo. I hadn’t respondedabout meeting him at the hospital to volunteer today. I chewed my lip. Did his cousin’s failed battle with cancer compel me not to press the Block button? I couldn’t say he’d done anything wrong, but something inside me wanted nothing more to do with him.
The smallest of smiles formed on my mouth, and I swiped a tear, reminiscing on his argument with Lachlan. So messy. I responded via text.
ME: You’re part of the male species. So, it’s fair to ignore you now.
LORENZO: Ignore me at dinner? U sit on the opposite side of the candlelight? Neither of us says a word? How does that sound?
ME: I could block you?
LORENZO: Okay. Too much. Too soon. Got it. Please don’t block me. Let me be the supportive friend to a broken hearted girl.
The response echoedin my mind, spoken with that sexy Italian accent. Right words … wrong guy. I pitched the phone into the darkness.
The sound of it crashing onto the marble floor never came.
“Who’s there?” I called out. The television light of the muted sitcom reached the air hockey table.
“Me.” Pop’s reply held the usual Russian growl but lacked the strain from our arguments.
“You happy?” I asked.
With a huff, he strolled over, holding a carton of Cookie’s & Cream. “I know nothing. You were texting; I respected your privacy.” He pulled out two spoons from his sweats pocket.
