Page 57 of Don’t Say Mafia

There was a pause, and I waited incredulously for his answer.

Cruz: Isn’t that what people in love do?

I blinked at my screen for a minute, waiting for the punch line.

Weirdly, it never came.

Me: You know what . . .you might have to verify my ball story, but I’m going to have to verify that you’ve actually ever been with a woman. But I would recommend not crocheting if it ever happens.

Cruz: You know what? You’re obnoxious. Just for that, I’m going to drink the rest of that scotch.

I sighed. Of course he was at my place. Because why wouldn’t he be, even though he had a very nice one of his own?

Me: Please be gone by the time I get home. I need to sleep before I murder someone.

Cruz: …

Cruz: No promises.

I locked the phone and leaned back in the seat, knowing I was about to fall asleep.

“It’s definitely his fault,” I murmured to Zachary.

I had fallen asleep before he even answered.

***

Eden

The numbers on my phone stopped making sense somewhere around the third time I added them up.

Rent. Utilities. The hospital bill estimate they’d already emailed me. Groceries, if we barely ate. Everything stacked on top of everything else until it all blurred together into one long, suffocating list. I rubbed my thumb over the edge of the screen and set the phone down on the coffee table, pressing my palms to my eyes like that might keep the panic from spilling out.

Behind me, the bedroom door creaked open, and Ryan stepped into the living room, his hair damp from the shower. He looked like a different man from the one in the hospital.

And he’d looked that way for the last two weeks since we’d left it.

Which was why I hadn’t been able to tell him yet . . . that I was done.

Ryan leaned down and kissed me, and I accidentally kissed him back out of habit. His kiss had just tried to turn deeper when the fire alarm suddenly screamed, ripping through the apartment with no warning.

I gasped and pulled back at the same moment Ryan did, both of us covering our ears as the shrill noise echoed off the walls.

“What the hell,” he shouted.

The sprinklers exploded to life overhead, and cold water poured down in chaotic bursts, soaking the couch, the rug, my hair, my clothes. I shrieked and jumped back, slipping slightly on the slick floor as Ryan cursed and spun in a slow, panicked circle.

“What is happening?” he yelled.

The alarm screeched relentlessly, my nerves fraying with every second. And then, just as abruptly as it had started, it all stopped. The sprinklers cut off mid-spray, and the alarm died with a final, unhappy chirp.

I blinked at the sudden silence and then looked around, stunned.

“What the fuck,” Ryan said, breathing hard.

My phone buzzed on the table, its screen lighting up with a notification from the building management about a “false alarm” and “system reset.”

Ryan laughed weakly, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “Guess the universe has a sense of humor.”