Wednesday, May 31
“I’m taking you back to Evergreen.” Liv makes this declaration while ripping the duvet off me.
I let out an enraged groan in response, rolling over to bury my face in a pillow. It’s got to be six o’clock in the morning. The sun is still pale and milky, falling through the blinds in a gray rickrack. “Oh, now you want me in Evergreen?”
“Nadia.” She pulls on my pajama pant leg until I have to roll over to keep from losing them altogether.
“Stop,” I moan. “Go away.”
Liv’s standing at the foot of the bed, fists pressed into her hips. “Get up, put your shoes on, and get in the car.”
I slowly push myself up, narrowing my eyes at her. “What the hell’s going on?”
“You’re being evicted. Now. Let’s get a move on.” She’s gathering up the few things I’ve commandeered in the room—her hair spray, an extra deodorant—and throwing them into a plastic bag.
“Why? I thought I was resting—stop it, Liv. You’re not funny. I’m not leaving.”
Mike appears in the doorway, swinging a car key on his index finger. “Car’s packed, babe.” Then, to me: “Morning, gorgeous.”
“Mike.” I’m scrambling out of bed toward him. “Tell your wife I can’t leave.”
Mike immediately lifts his hands in an act of open resignation. “I am absolutely not getting involved in Fabiola drama. Car’s packed and I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Fucking guy. Liv’s moved on to rolling the duvet into a ball so I can’t wrestle the length away from her. I make a feeble attempt to fight for the blanket, crawling back across the bed and wrapping my arms around her as she turns away and shouts at me that I smell like shit.
“I would absolutely rough your ass up if you weren’t pregnant,” I threaten her through gritted teeth, trying to pry a corner out of her titanium grip.
“Oh, yeah? I could still kick your ass, weakling,” she grunts.
“You wish.” We’re moving in slow motion, like two turtles fighting over a single piece of lettuce.
“Look, I’m sorry for what I said before about you and Evergreen and Marco—”
“Stop,” I cut her off. “We are not talking about him—”
“Just listen to me, okay? I know things have spiraled and I know it hasn’t been perfect, but you can’t just give up, Nadia—”
“That’s not my decision! He knows. I told him and he chose to leave. He said he needed time, and he bolted—”
“You are so much more than the last week!”
“And I’m not giving up, I’m just—”
“No more cloistering!” she yells at me. Like actually yells. “The life you’ve built for yourself is different. It’s weird and wild, but it’s better. You are better.”
Stunned, I sit back on my haunches on the bed.
“Forget about Marco for now, okay?” Liv huffs, smoothing down some hairs that came loose in our pathetic little scrap. “Let’s just go. You need to move.”
We sit in the carport, staring up at the second story of our family beach house, sharing a family-size bag of popcorn, Liv’s one and only craving.
If I wasn’t completely numb, I’d feel sick to my stomach.
“What do you think you’re having?” I ask Liv without taking my eyes off the balcony. That balcony was my favorite place when we were kids. I would wake up early so I could be there when my mom fired up the moka pot. She’d make me a cappuccino with extra milk and sugar and let me drink it with her as we watched the sun break through the marine layer. Maybe one day Liv’s little one would want to do the same. It would drive her insane to have a child that was as precocious and sensitive as I had been.
“Probably a boy,” Liv says, sucking the salt off her fingers. “Just have a feeling.”
“Sexist.” Then, I look over at Liv. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll be back this weekend to make sure you aren’t growing mold.”
“No, don’t do that. You’ve done so much already. I’ll be okay.”
Liv nods. “You will be.” She reaches over and wipes her wet fingers on my arm. I squirm and grimace at her. “I’m not helping you carry your stuff up.”
“Jeez. Lazy.”
I don’t really have anything to carry upstairs. My purse, a plastic bag filled with medication, and some clothes. I make my way up the old wooden steps that lead to our door and find that, weirdly, it’s ajar. I can see into the apartment and all the lights are off. Soph or Allie must have dropped by.
“Soph?” I call out as I push my way into the apartment. “Allie?”
There’s a shadow, a figure stirring by the kitchen island. My entire body tenses with pure terror. “Hello?”
The shadow shifts and a gasp sticks in my throat. I reach for the doorknob, fumbling with the metal as I try to backtrack. “Liv?” I call out feebly, but it’s too late. She can’t hear me now.
Then, the lights flicker on.
The figure before me is frowning, arms folded over his chest, a gentle tumble of wavy hair swept sweetly behind his ears. Wearing his reading glasses. Looking like he stepped out of an episode of Baywatch.
“Surprise,” he says.
My legs soften and my bags slowly slide from my arms to the floor.
The look on Marco’s face transforms from serious to deep concern in a nanosecond, and he moves swiftly toward me, arms opening wide to catch me if I fall forward. And I just might. He looks nervous—beautiful but nervous, eyebrows tented with anxiety. “Easy,” he says. “Easy.”
I recoil from his open arms, flattening my body against the door. “W-what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Your sister texted me,” he says very precisely. “She said she was dropping you off. She told me to get a key from Soph. I figured she hadn’t told you, but I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh my God . . .” My hands make a shaky grab for my hairline. I’m dizzy. I reach out to steady myself against the wall, but instead my hand finds something soft—Marco’s chest. He’s so close, I can almost hear his ragged breathing.
“Nadia.” His lips. They’re soft and warm and pressed against my temple. Kissing me? “Please sit. You need to sit.”
“No . . .” I try to pry myself away from him, but his fingers find my elbow and guide me to the couch. He keeps guiding me until the fabric meets the backs of my knees, and I’m able to sit. “Y-you’re here. You talked to my sister, and now you’re here?”
Marco nods curtly, settling beside me. “She told me everything and she sort of . . . warned me. Told me it may be a little while before you could reach out. She said you were spooked.”
I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out hoarse. “That’s one way to put it.”
He looks tired.
“Nadia, I wish you’d told me sooner. I wish I’d had time t-to—to be better. I wish I could have—”
“No,” I cut in, my voice hoarse and angry. “No, I didn’t want you to know.”
His eyebrows drop together, his mouth twisting into a tight, sideways frown. “I realize how complicated I made this situation between us. I take responsibility for that. But what if you’d had a seizure in Rome? What . . . what if something worse had happened and I didn’t know how to help you?”
“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I manage through clenched teeth. “It would be all you thought about the whole time. It would have been the only me you saw. There wouldn’t have been room for any other version of Nadia. Just worry and medicine and exhaustion and neediness—”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry—I don’t want to make you upset—”
“See! You just did it, right there.” I’m trying to raise my voice, but it just cracks with the effort of my desperation. “I do not need to be lectured right now,” I continue. “I did what I did because I wanted to, okay? We never promised each other anything. We said we’d date for May and that was that. How was I supposed to know I’d fucking fall head over heels for you?”
Marco can’t argue with that. Instead, he leans forward and presses the palms of his hands together. “I should have never left things with you the way I did. I should have never left you for a stupid work trip. How do you know this isn’t because of the stress I put you under?”
I pull a throw pillow to my chest, and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Because . . . I’ve been this bad before. Maybe . . . maybe not quite this bad. But I’ve been really sick. When I met you, my medicine was working. Finally. And I was working. So, I faked it. I know that makes me selfish—”
“It doesn’t,” he cuts in, leaning forward to lay a hand over my knee. The comfort this gesture brings me is instant.
“Yes, it does,” I say, trying to keep my voice harsh and steady, but I can feel myself being pulled back to him. I don’t want to be harsh. “I don’t care if I’m selfish. I’m happy I did it, and I’d do it again. This month with you has been the best of my life. It fixed me.” I spit this at him like it’s an insult. “No one has ever treated me the way you do. No one. I lied, and I hurt you, just so I could hold on to that. Don’t you think you deserve better? Someone who you can take to Rome without being afraid that they’ll fall apart?”
“Hey.” Marco flexes his fingers, still around my knee, sliding close to me. Hold me, I want to say. Let’s just forget everything for now. “You just said this was the best month of your life—what do you think it was for me, Nadia? Do you think before May fourth I was just living my fucking dream? I’m not perfect—you saw how imperfect I can be. Don’t you deserve someone better?”
Tears are prickling at my eyes. I don’t cry. I won’t cry. “Fuck that. I don’t want better. What’s better than you?”
“Exactly, see?” He lets out a soft laugh from the back of his throat, bringing his thumb up to swipe quickly at my cheek. “It fucking hurts to hear someone you love ripping themselves apart. I want you, okay? Every version of you, and I am so fucking mad at myself that I had to almost lose you in order to see that. The moment I walked out on you, I knew I should have turned around, but . . . God, there’s no excuse. I’m just sorry.” He goes quiet for a moment. His thumb paints small circles around my kneecap. “If you don’t want me, for whatever reason, okay. But don’t just push me away because of that one moment—because I accidentally validated this idea you have of how I see you.”
I do. I push his hand away, lumbering to my feet. “You want a version of me that doesn’t exist. You want the person I was in Rome.”
But Marco’s faster than me, rising and following me across the room. “Don’t tell me what I want, Nadia.”
“Don’t tell me what I want, Marco.” I turn and press a quaking finger into my chest. “I know exactly what I want. What I want is you. But this is how I am, and what if you decide it’s boring? What if next time you see how fragile I am, how really fragile I am, you want to leave?” A single, hot tear falls from my eye, crashing onto the floor between us. “I won’t be able to take it.”
Marco locks his gaze on mine, chest rising and falling as his breath comes in ragged tears. He steps closer to me, his fingers glancing along my jaw; his lips part as his gaze moves over my features. “God, I am so fucking in love with you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“What about what I did?” I whisper. “I am not the woman you’ve been spending time with, Marco.” My voice cracks on his name. I open my eyes. “I-I need a fucking kidney.”
My last big reveal. Ta-da.
His eyebrows snap together. Marco’s mouth opens, then closes. His hands fall back to his sides, and for a second, I’m terrified I actually did it—I’ve completely scared him away. “You need a kidney?”
“Not right now. But one day, yes, I might need a kidney. I may cut off all my hair because I’m too sick to brush it. I’ll probably never, ever be sexy in Rome again. But you will always be you.”
Marco chews his lip. Then, he reaches for my crossed arms, for my hands buried underneath. “I’ll brush your hair,” he says. I want to pull away, but before I can, he curls his fingers around mine and brings our hands to rest over his heart. His hammering heart. “I’ll help you out of bed. Fuck, I can give you a kidney. I just want you, Nadia. I don’t care about Rome or LA or New York or Evergreen. I’ll go wherever you need me. I want to wake up at your side and know you—whatever version of you—are going to be there. I love you.”
I love you, too. For days, it’s been my only consistent thought. Instead, I whisper, “You’re making this so, so hard.”
“Good.” With his free hand, he finds my lower back and gently eases me to him. “You will not leave me standing alone in the place where I first realized I love you.” His eyes are burning into me, holding me. Daring me to keep lying when he knows—I know—all my defenses are down. “That is not how our story ends, okay? So, say it. Tell me what you want.”
I pull in a shaky rush of breath. “You.” And then, I crumble into his chest. Finally, he holds me.
“Marco?”
It’s the first thing I say when I come out of my deep sleep. Through the window I can make out the moon in the dark, cloudless sky. I feel alone in my bed. I’m in a shirt I don’t recognize. Fear grabs me in the chest. “Marco?” I say again, louder.
A shadow beside me stirs. “I’m here,” he says, rolling toward me. A heavy, warm arm circles my head. A pair of lips rests against my temple and every part of me relaxes.
“You’re real?” I grumble.
“Yes.” He laughs, warm breath on my ear, his lips in my hair. “I’m flesh and bones.”
“Can we go back to Evergreen?”
“We’re already here,” he assures me. “You’re home now.”
“Did I take my medicine?” I ask through a yawn, already falling back into the grip of sleep.
“Mmm-hmm.” His fingers trace a lazy pattern over my shoulder. “You took your medicine. We called Liv. You texted your mom. You’re all good; go back to sleep.”
“You sure?” I manage, words lazy on my tongue. The moon is just a blur now. There’s a lightness in my chest, a calmness that has reached my bones.
“Promise,” he whispers. I feel the sheet move up around my shoulders, his bare chest against my back. The warmth of his thighs around mine. Then, I fall back asleep.