I reach for another slice of cold pizza. I’ve had it since the place opened at eleven this morning and it’s all I’ve eaten today. Now it’s nearing six. The sun will start going down soon. I’ll stay here on the couch, like I always do, until I can no longer keep my eyes open.
I’ll wake up at some point tomorrow, confused about where I am for about two seconds until I remember I’m alone in the house Aliko and I were supposed to move into together.
I munch on the pizza that’s hard and cold, but I don’t have energy to make anything. There’s only one slice left, so I finish that before draining the bottle of water and grabbing the blanket to pull up to my chin.
My gaze stays on the TV, but I’m not really seeing it. My eyes keep unfocusing, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m tired or not. But then I drift into sleep—or something close to it—but not for long. There’s a sound. Scratching… metal? I blink and sit up, straining my ears to figure out what the hell I’m hearing.
Then there’s a squeak and the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.
I leap to my feet and dash out of the living room, skidding to a halt in the foyer the moment my eyes land on Aliko in his half-kraken form. He’s shirtless, with just a pair of swim shorts on. No shoes.
“Are you real?” I ask.
I don’t know why those words come out of my mouth, but they do.
He gives me a sympathetic look, a sad look so unlike Aliko.
“I’m real, baby,” he says.
The next thing I know, I’m in his arms—all of them—and he’s holding on to me so tightly I can’t breathe.
Who needs to breathe? Not me. Not now. Not while he’s finally here.
“Where have you been?” I ask, the words raspy as they come out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I squeeze him tighter. He squeezes me tighter.
Words can wait. Right now, I just need this.
We stay in the foyer for a long time, until Aliko lifts me and carries me into the living room.
Aliko sits on the couch, with me in his arms. I can’t let go of him. I won’t. I still don’t fully believe this is real.
“You’re really here?” I ask softly.
He nods, his chin brushing against my head.
“Yeah, I’m really here.”
I pull away, to look up at him. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him. Maybe a little tired. Running my hand along his cheek, I lean in and kiss his lips.
He doesn’t kiss me back.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
Now I nod, not knowing what to say to that.
“My father, he—” He clears his throat.
“Your father? Is that who you left with?”
That would make sense. Hell, it’s the only thing that really makes sense.
“Yes. I still don’t know why.”
