“It’s not what you think, Isa. Things between us are crazy complicated. Sometimes I want to strangle him, and other times I want to…” I can’t say what I want. I’m too scared to voice it into being. But I don’t have to lay it out for Isa to understand.
She gives me a sad smile. “You do what’s best for you, Rina.”
“I’m trying to figure out what that is.”
“Well, in the process, no one would blame you if you decided to … test the waters. You know, scratch that itch. No reason not to take advantage of being stuck here together.” She sips from her drink, brows rising.
My cheeks flush what has to be bright red, and I can only hope she thinks it’s the alcohol. I can’t bring myself to tell her what I did in his bed. And besides, she and I don’t usually talk about that sort of thing. It may be a little unusual, but it works for us. Neither of us dates. Men and sex simply aren’t a part of the equation.
I’m not entirely sure about her reasons. She lost her mother and brother close to one another. I got the sense she never truly processed the loss.
As for me, I haven’t wanted to be with anyone—not even just for sex—because sex leads to feelings, and I didn’t want that. I don’t want that. Right?
My gaze drifts inside the apartment and locks with his. The television is on, but he’s not watching it. He’s watching me.
Butterfly wings tickle my insides and make it hard to breathe.
“Rina, is Craig the reason you don’t move on? Do you still miss him?” Isa’s question is so unexpected, and my attention is so fixated on DiAngelo, that I don’t filter my answer the way I normally would.
“No, I don’t move on because I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.” I finally force my eyes back to my friend, though I can’t hold her gaze long because of the immense sadness I see.
“You weren’t to blame, Rina. It was just bad luck.”
“Do you actually believe that with our family business, his getting stabbed was a random coincidence?” My words are sober and spoken with a heavy dose of reality.
Isa leans forward. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Yes.
But there’s no use dredging up the past, so I shake my head. “It’s a risky life we lead. You know that better than anyone.” Her father is Renzo’s consigliere. While there was no proof that her brother’s death was a hit, their brakes went out while he was driving. That doesn’t usually happen. The only reason she’s alive is his decision to steer the car to a stop in a way that saved her but killed him instantly.
She nods, and we both take long swigs from our drinks.
“It’s also boring. I don’t know about you, but hiding out at my dad’s house has me bored to tears. I’ve been thinking about taking up canning, and I don’t even like preserves.”
I chuckle. “Then why canning?”
“I like the jars.” She shrugs, and we both laugh.
“Seems like a good reason. I should probably take on more than yoga. I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen, which isn’t an option while we’re in danger, but I could go back to that.”
“Yeah? I might would join you.”
“Really?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised. She’s super sweet like that, and we’d have fun together.
“Of course. Once all of this blows over, we should look at the options.”
“That sounds great.”
Our conversation continues to wind seamlessly from one topic to another until an hour has passed, and DiAngelo joins us with a plate full of food in one hand and two water bottles in the other.
“This is unexpected,” I say with an alcohol-induced grin. We’ve finished our second round of drinks, and though the vodka ratio wasn’t high, I don’t drink often, so I’m feeling the effects.
“Figured I’d better bring something so that I’m not stuck holding your hair back all night.” His words remind me of the kiwi he’s included on the plate—a little rough and prickly on the outside but all sugary sweet on the inside.
The truth is, he’s under no obligation to help me if I get sick. He didn’t have to bring us anything, let alone spend the time to cut up kiwi and strawberries, slice cheese, and line the plate with rows of crackers and salami.
“You’re welcome to join us.” My softly spoken offer hangs in the air.
