My heart makes an uneven thump.
I haven’t felt this kind of anxiety since… Shit. I can’t remember.
“Nico?” Sofia frowns. “I’m not trying to make things weirder than they already are. It’s just?—”
“Do you think we should talk about it?”
“Now?”
“Well, if you want to wait until after dinner, that’s fine. Or if you’re not feeling up to it after cooking, we could put it off until tomorrow. But you’ve been here for a couple of days now, and with this… thing between us. I think it would be better to clear the air, at least.”
She stares at her plate for a few seconds. Then she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. When her gaze rises to meet mine, the pain in her eyes is a punch to my gut.
“Okay,” she finally replies. Her voice is heavy with resignation. She crosses the kitchen and sets her plate on the counter. Keeping a good ten feet between us, she wraps her good arm around herself and exhales again. “I guess we need to. Talk, I mean.”
Her untouched plate makes me feel guilty. Why didn’t I wait until she ate, at least?
“We can wait,” I offer. “I shouldn’t have said anything until after you ate.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I know we need to talk. And the longer we wait…” She pauses. “So. Where do you want to start?”
WheredoI want to start? Of course, I’ve thought about what I wanted to say to her, but that was all in theory. That was when Sofia wasn’t standing right in front of me, still bruised and hurt, and my protective instincts weren’t demanding I take care of her.
Keep it as civil as possible,I tell myself. There’s nothing to be accomplished by throwing out accusations or insults. Not eighteen years later, when we’re two different people.
Butarewe?
If I’m so different, why do I still care about her?
If she’s a different person, why does being around her feel so familiar?
Does it matter with the lies between us?
“I get why you did it,” I reply. “But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me you were so worried about money. I could have helped you. We could have worked things out. You didn’t have to?—”
“You get why I did it?” Sofia interrupts. Her voice pitches up. “What do you mean, yougetwhy I did it?”
“College. Expenses.” I give a small shrug. “You sold the jewelry to get money for college. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“You think I stole for college?”
“You didn’t? What else for, then? Unless there’s something else about you I didn’t know. Were you buying drugs? Uppers to help study? Was your mom in financial trouble?”
Her mouth drops open. “Wait. You think I was ondrugs?”
“I don’tknow, Sofia,” I snap. “You never told me. I thought we talked about everything. If you’d only come to me, shared what you were worried about… But no. You thought you’d solve it on your own by stealing my mother’s jewelry.”
Sofia clutches the counter so hard her knuckles go white. “I didn’t steal her jewelry.”
Anger expands inside me. “Yes, you did. What’s the point of lying about it eighteen years later? Do you think I’m going to turn you in?”
The color drains from her face. “You want to turn me in?”
“Are you listening to me? I said I wouldn’t. I just want to hear the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Yes. The truth.” Hurt bubbles up, forcing out the worry that’s haunted me ever since I heard what she did. “Did you even love me? Or were you just using me to get to my parents’ money?”
