Chapter 29 Giovanna
Giovanna
Iset the textbook down next to my plate of salmon, potatoes, and salad at the dining table, the candles flickering before I blow them out in a sharp puff.
My makeup is still perfect—lashes curled, lips glossed—but I’ve traded my dress for pajamas.
Tommy missed dinner. Again. Not for the second or third time.
Not even the seventh or eighth.
So many times that I’ve stopped counting.
So many that I can’t remember the last time he actually sat across from me at this table, or came with me to the farmer’s market, or showed up for coffee, or went out with me and our friends.
I’ve been navigating my life solo for months now.
I know why—school, his internship, and those endless “jobs” Aurelio sends him on.
That last part feels intentional, like his father’s personal campaign to carve me out of Tommy’s life.
Still, I tell myself to be happy for him.
He’s chasing everything he’s ever wanted: finishing law school, securing a permanent spot with Councilman Donovan, setting up investments for “our forever.” His words.
The door bangs open. Tommy rushes in, tossing his soft briefcase onto the couch, already halfway down the hall.
“Hello?” I call out.
He pops his head back around the corner.
“Hey, sorry, Gi. I have to meet Vin and Matti.”
He disappears again as I glance at the clock.
“It’s almost 7:30. Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a burrito earlier.”
I follow him to the bedroom carrying my dinner plate and eat while he strips out of his suit and shrugs into black jeans and a t-shirt.
“You know,” I say around a forkful of salmon, “it’s a good thing you’re so fucking hot.
”
He casts a quizzical look at me over his shoulder as he sorts through a pile of clothes on the chair.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I made dinner for you. Again. And you didn’t show.
Again. Sound familiar?” I chew slowly, watching the wheels in his head grind, trying to flip through mental notes until he finds the one marked dinner.
“I don’t think so. Have you seen my ball cap?
The black one?”
“Seriously? I said, ‘Do you want me to make that salmon before it goes bad?’ And you said, ‘Yes, make it Tuesday night.’ And I said, ‘Is 6:30 good because you ghosted me the last three times I planned for 6?’ And you said, ‘Yes.’ Ring any bells?”
His voice is tired.
“Gi, it doesn’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.
”
He’s getting a lot better at giving appropriate responses that aren’t rude or dismissive.
He kisses me on the cheek and tries to blow past me, but I grab the hood of his hoodie.
He jerks to a stop and closes his eyes briefly, then looks at me, irritation rippling just under the surface.
“Gi, I’m late.”
“Yes. You’re late for taking me out for drinks.
We were going to have dinner and meet Lexi and some other people at that bar in the Village.
”
He scans me from head to toe. “You’re wearing pajamas.
”
I sigh. “I am now. I knew when you missed dinner—again—that you were going to bail on the rest. And since you throw a fit when I try to go to bars without you, I changed.”
He exhales, framing my face in his hands.
“Gi, if you want to go have drinks, go. Have the driver take you. I’m going to be out all night, so call if you need anything.
” He kisses my forehead and slips past me before I can respond.
When the door clicks shut, I stand there blinking.
Well, that’s a first. For almost two years, he hasn’t let me go anywhere alone—not with friends, not with the driver, not even with security.
And now? Just go.
I scowl and set my dinner plate on the table.
You know what, fine. If he doesn’t have time for me, I’m not going to hole up here and wait for him.
**
Lexi squeals and shoves another vodka tonic in my hand, showing me the inside of her arm.
There’s a phone number scrawled on it. “Adnan is his name. He’s such a fucking face card.
”
“You got his number? Why aren’t you going home with him?
”
Lexi mock gasps. “Moi? I’d never go home with someone the first night!
”
I arch a brow, sip my drink long and slow.
We both laugh.
She leans back against the bar.
“Nah, I fucked him in the bathroom stall. I’m not calling this guy.
”
I check the time. “Seriously? That was quick.”
“Why do you think I’m not calling him?
” she deadpans.
Lexi pulls me out onto the dance floor again, and even though I’m exhausted, we stay there for over an hour.
We started out at the bar in Greenwich Village, headed to a party at her friend’s house, then hit this club on 14th Street, no problem getting in thanks to our fake IDs.
When we stumble out onto the street, the sun is coming up.
I groan. “I have Epistemology at 8am and Metaphysics at 9am.”
“Meh, skip it,” Lexi says.
“Let’s go get pancakes!”
I shake my head.
“I really can’t.”
“You’re fucking wasted, and you look like you spent all night dancing.
” I look down at my outfit, a little dress and spiky heels that are killing my feet.
She’s not wrong.
“I can clean up at my old apartment on Bleeker and get to class with time to spare.”
She pouts then perks up.
“Time to spare? So…blueberry lemon ricotta pancakes?”
I laugh.
She knows my heart. “Ugh, fine. But it has to be fast. Don’t you have class, too?
”
“Girl, I never schedule a class before noon. You know that.” We hail a cab and settle into the back after giving the driver the address.
Lexi looks out the window, scanning the street.
“It’s weird that you lost your driver hours ago, and Tommy’s not blowing up your phone.
Scratch that. It’s weird that he’s not here throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you back to his cave.
”
I glance at my phone. No texts or calls from Tommy at all, and he’s not showing up on the location app.
“I hope he’s okay.”
“Of course he’s okay,” she scoffs.
“He’s just a selfish prick.”
“No, he’s just busy.
” Not hearing from Tommy doesn’t feel strange to me anymore.
I’m used to it. Or I’m getting used to it.
And it was fun going out with my friends without having to worry about him being overprotective.
Though I wouldn’t have minded fucking him in the bathroom.
When we get to Bleeker Street, I’m happily surprised when my old key works.
My dad told me he would keep this place until the day I “came to my senses” and left that “neanderthal thug.” Interesting that he kept his word.
Everything is exactly as I left it, and it doesn’t take long for me to shower and find some leggings, a tank top, and a cute cropped jacket before heading to the diner with Lexi.
Right after we order, my phone starts blowing up with texts.
I half smile. There’s my man. But the texts aren’t from Tommy; they’re from my dad.
Thank God.
Happy to see you finally came to your senses and
left that neanderthal thug.
If you need help moving your stuff back in, let me
know.
I roll my eyes and put the phone away. Of course my dad has guys watching the apartment.
I turn my attention to the joy that is blueberry lemon ricotta pancakes, a subway ride to class, and two hours of philosophy.
When I get home to our apartment on the Upper West Side, Tommy’s clothes are on the floor in the bathroom.
The bed is messed up, and the shower is still wet.
He came home, slept in our bed, and left again.
Without noticing I never came home.
The realization hits like glass shattering in my chest. If he had noticed, he’d have called, tracked me down, dragged me back.
That’s who Tommy is. That’s who he’s always been.
But he didn’t do any of that. Because he didn’t think about me at all.