“What are you talking about?”
“Instead of processing your grief, you donned a mask and systematically wiped out an entire criminal operation.”
“That is how I processed shit.” It worked very well. I did what I set out to do. Marissa is gone forever. I know there will be someone to fill her void, but at least she’s not there.
“How’s your dad?” Tyler asks.
“He’s fine.” I make a mental note to call him soon.
“Uh huh.”
We stand side by side in the hallway, the quiet easy. We’d both rather be out here than inside the gala.
“You should try opening up to her.” Tyler’s voice is low, his expression open. Like he’s doing everything possible to show me his words come from a place of peace.
“I’m not the one having panic attacks.”
“You’re an idiot,” Tyler says. “The absolute perfect woman falls into your lap, and you’re just going to bottle it up like always. I guess Luis will invite you to all the family holidays, and you’ll show up, the perpetually single uncle.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being single.”
“There’s nothing wrong with letting people in,” Tyler replies. “And fuck, Tris. Look at her. Isolde is fucking meant for yo?—”
“Isolde is a client.”
An uncharacteristically tense silence lingers.
“I’ll remind you of this moment,” Tyler says, straightening his jacket. “When she’s gone off and found somebody else because you were too chicken shit to admit you liked her.”
He lopes off back to the main room.
It’s not that I don’t believe in love. My father never remarried, his heart so stuck on his wife. I see it between other family members. I don’t begrudge any of my friends when they bring their partners around.
I realize how it must look. I’m the man who guards his heart because his girlfriend died.
We were young as fuck, so who’s to say if we would or wouldn’t have actually made it as a couple?
But Marissa and her violence took that option away. Just like it took my mother away.
The Ghost is a direct consequence of these chapters in my life. Of when I lost people I could never get back.
I’m not scared to give my heart away again. If anything, I never do anything half-assed.
Some sort of stubbornness holds me back, though. In all my encounters with women, I’ve never felt like this before—like I might be the one to crumble because the feeling is so delicate.
A notification on my phone goes off. It’s the shared calendar again. Isolde has added a meeting at Fujimori’s tomorrow.
I fucking knew Hadrian would upset Isolde somehow.
I call Luis.
“Hey, cuz.” He picks up immediately. “It’s all good here, I promise.”
“Why has—” I bite the question back. Luis doesn’t know Isolde’s thought process. He won’t know anything about the new calendar event, and it’s not fair to bite his head off about it.
I try again. “No one tailed you going to the place?”
“Nope.”
