I can’t stand another minute of Yasmin’s pointed silence. Every reproachful sigh she lets out says,I love you but I think you’re making a terrible mistake.
Well, I think so, too, girl.
The difference between us is that I’m dumb enough to make the mistake anyway.
When dawn comes, I order an Uber to The Moonlight Inn. The app confirms my ride will arrive in three minutes. I grab Excalibur and my bag, moving as quietly as possible.
But a voice breaks the stillness. “I know you won’t let me come,” Yas mumbles, “so I’m not going to ask. But just… be safe for me, okay?”
I freeze. “How did you?—”
“Your phone makes a sound when you order a ride,” she explains from inside her room. “I’ve been listening for it since four.”
“Yas…”
“I already called in sick to work. Someone needs to make sure you come back in one piece.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I settle for, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. If this goes sideways, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’ for the rest of your natural life.”
Grinning weakly, I make my way to the door. I slip out and head down the stairs. The morning air hits me when I push through the building’s front door, still cool enough to raise goosebumps on my arms.
“Eliana?” calls a woman’s voice from the curb. “Uber for Eliana?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Nadia. Let me help you with that.”
A hand touches my elbow gently, guiding me toward the car. I let her because I’m too tired to insist on doing everything myself right now. The door opens, and I slide into the back seat.
“The Moonlight Inn on Route 41?” Nadia confirms as she settles into the driver’s seat.
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
The car pulls away from the curb. I rest my head against the window. My stomach does a little loop-de-loop—morningsickness, anxiety, or both. Hard to tell anymore. It doesn’t help that Nadia has some kind of scent thing in her car. It’s a smell I know all too well: Mountain Breeze, a Glade product, familiar to me for as long as I’ve been on this earth. The chemical-sweet smell mixes with my nausea until I have to crack the window or else I’m going to yak onto my own lap.
I think about Mom. I haven’t spoken to her since I ran from Chicago. She must be worried absolutely sick, which is awful timing, because it really felt like she’d begun to turn a corner just before everything crumbled. She’s called, but I haven’t answered. It’s better that way for now.
If I talked to her, she’dtry, and my mother’s trying has never done anything but harm. If I told her where I am and where I’m headed, then Georgia, bless her, would do her best to fix it. She’d show up at this shithole with lukewarm casseroles and misguided advice and that desperateneed to be neededthat’s defined our relationship since I was old enough to understand what “codependency” meant.
Blech.I really might vom.
“You okay back there?” Nadia asks after a few minutes. “You need me to pull over?”
I force a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
“Long night?”
“Something like that.”
She doesn’t press, which I appreciate. Instead, she turns on the radio. The pop music that blares out is too bright and cheesy for the early hour, so I tune it out and focus on the baby cooking inside me.
Finally, the car slows. “We’re here,” Nadia announces. “The Moonlight Inn. You, uh… you sure about this place?”
“Why?”
“No reason. Just looks a little rough, is all.”
