I watch three little dots appear and disappear over and over again. She’s typing but then deleting it, and I wish more than anything in that moment to climb inside her head just to know what she’s thinking right now.
Savina:We shouldn’t be talking.
I smirk.
Me:Probably not. But you keep texting me back.
I watch the three little dots appear and then disappear one last time, but I don’t get any more texts from Savina that night. It’s probably for the best anyway. I know I’ll definitely say something I’ll regret, and perhaps she would too.
And so, I nurse my bottle of whiskey until I fall into a fitful sleep full of dreams of the woman I’ve wanted for most of my life but will never truly have.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Savina
DARBY FRANTICALLY MOVESaround her cramped apartment through my phone screen. We’re FaceTiming before her shift at work, and she’s running around, fresh from a shower, long hair dripping down her shoulders and still wrapped in an oversized, navy blue towel, desperately trying to get ready.
“I can never find anything in here,” she says on the other side of the call. “I swear someone has been stealing my panties.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure no one is stealing your panties, Darby.”
“Maybe not. Maybe the shitty dryer in the basement is just eating them again,” she grumbles. “I need a bigger place with more room,” she says exasperated as she opens yet another drawer. “When are you going to talk to your father about moving out?” she asks, and I can hear the desperation in her voice.
“Today actually. We’re doing brunch with the Sokolov family.”
“God, how many family get-togethers do you have to do before the wedding? Is there, like, a set amount?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s not many more,” I tell her with a frustrated sigh.
“Remind me never to get into an arranged marriage. The level of socializing it requires would absolutelykillme way before I walked down the aisle,” she says dramatically.
I smile at that. Darby isn’t exactly what you would call a people person. She’s more of atolerates people when she absolutely has tokind of person. In all honesty, she would rather talk to a cat or a dog or any kind of animal really than even look in the general direction of another human being. I’m just happy that she chose me a long time ago as her favorite human and that I get to be her best friend.
“Well, make sure you lay it on thick for your dad today. I would like to be moved out…yesterday,” she says before suddenly pulling a pair of panties from the back of her drawer. “Ah-ha!” she says in a eureka moment. “Found a pair! I guess I don’t have to go commando today after all,” she tells me while pumping her fist in the air triumphantly. “Okay, I can finally get dressed.”
I watch as she searches around in the drawer once again. “Now what are you looking for?” I question.
“My motivation to go in today,” she jokes half-heartedly. “God, I wish I could stay home.”
“Aren’t you the boss? Call in sick,” I offer.
“I wish! The amount of people who have quit the past few months is absurd. I can’t keep anyone here, so I constantly have to fill in the gaps,” she says with a shake of her head.
“Alright, well, try to have a good shift. I’ll text you and let you know how the brunch goes,” I tell her with a wave.
“Good luck!” Darby calls, waving erratically in front of the phone camera.
“Thanks. I’m gonna need it,” I say before ending the call.
I stare at the darkened screen and sigh. I’ve been trying everything in my power to get on my father’s good side over the pastcouple of weeks. The only thing left to do today is to get through this brunch without a single hiccup.
I can see the finish line, and I’m so damn close. The thing motivating me the most is Darby’s urgency to move. I think her stepbrother might be making her life a living hell again, and I want to make sure she can get out of that crappy apartment and into a safer building where she can keep her distance from him.
Raiding my closet, I choose a demure dress with a low heel and change into them after a quick shower. I fix my makeup and style my hair, and then I wait downstairs until it’s time to leave.
At ten-thirty on the dot, my father emerges from his office. “Let’s go. Where’s Cosette?” he asks.
“Coming, dear!” she calls from the kitchen.
