Chapter 35
LILY
The vibration from my phone ringing on my bedside table wakes me. I stare at the ceiling of my old childhood bedroom. Not much has changed over the years, except it all feels a little smaller.
I groan as I look at my phone. Four missed calls from Sienna, and it's only seven in the morning. That can’t be good. She’s never awake this early.
I call her back, noticing the cool drift of air seeping in from the window. My eyebrows furrow as I walk over to close it. I’m certain it was closed last night.
“Oh, thank God, Lily. It’s bad!” Sienna says in a rush. “It’s Romi. I need you here. It’s an emergency.”
My heart stops. “Is she okay?”
Please, don’t be so cruel as to take one of my best friends. Is this a punishment for not feeling guilt over my father's death?
“It’s her roommate. She’s dead,” Sienna tells me.
Everything stops.
“What?”
“Every morning they walked together after yoga, but yesterday…”
“Romi came to my father’s funeral instead,” I finish for her, because she still seems to tiptoe around the subject.
“She won’t tell me what happened, but she’s pretty shaken up.” She says the last part quietly.
Something lodges in my throat. I didn’t know the woman well, but she and Romi had been roommates and friends for almost two years.
“Why didn’t Romi call us?” I ask, wishing she had been more inclined to depend on us. I’m already in action, quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a top.
“She’s just… vacant,” Sienna says. “Should I call Ara as well?”
“Maybe not yet. She had a big launch today for a new app, and Romi doesn’t do well with being smothered. I’ll be there shortly,” I promise.
When we were ten, one of Romi’s dogs passed away. It was so devastating that she didn’t eat or drink for days.
I quickly walk down the hallway, open the door to my mother's room, peek in, and find her sound asleep.
My heart feels divided. I’ve been holed up here for a week, hovering to make sure she’s okay, but to have Romi now going through the same grief…
What the fuck is happening right now?
Is fate so cruel?
I’m hurrying down the stairs and almost run into Bentley.
“I’m sorry, Miss Taylor. Is everything okay?”
“Sorry, Bentley. I’ll be gone for the day. Please call me if anything happens with my mother,” I say, grabbing my coat and whipping it over my shoulders.
“Do you require me to call the driver?” he asks, flustered by my pace.
I pause, thoughtfully. “No, Bentley. I think I’ll drive myself.”
He doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head slightly in approval as I make my way to the garage.
I look through the fine collection of vintage cars.
It was always a hobby of my father’s. I’d never shown much interest in it, but it was absolutely forbidden that we ever drive one.
I look at the array of eight cars, biting at the edge of my nail as I make a quick decision.
His old Mustang. The one he loved the most.
I rev the engine, feeling oddly empowered at the way it growls beneath me.
It feels like a great "fuck you" to my father, but if he was willing to sell me off before this car, then I think this is a fair trade-off.
Bit by bit, I feel his hold slipping from me.
Especially as the loose gravel kicks up when I round the corner too fast outside of the gates.
My heart pounds with adrenaline, and I like it.
I’m not surprised when Sky begins to trail me on his motorbike. Unlike when the hound gives me space when I'm at the house by remaining on the outside of the property, he’s right up my ass anywhere else I go.
I park outside of Romi’s apartment, which is located on the outskirts of Manhattan in a slightly quieter part of town. If anything, it’s a little run-down, but she always expressed that it was within her roommate's budget, and she liked the edginess of it—it apparently gave her inspiration.
When I step out of the car, I’m surprised when Sky removes his helmet, revealing his beautiful features as he gets off the bike.
I point to him. “You’re not welcome.”
“Sorry, miss, but those aren’t my orders. I can give you space when you’re sweetly tucked up in bed, but anywhere else, I follow.”
“Why are you all so infuriating?” I grumble, irritated but beelining for the entrance so I don't waste any more time.
“Comes with the territory, I think. And if Lorenzo found out I wasn’t one step behind you at any point, he’d have me neutered.”
I pause in the middle of the staircase and look down at him. I’m inclined to ask about the missing brute, but I won’t fool myself into believing he’s doing this because he cares. So, I settle on, “You’re really annoying, do you know that?”
He chuckles. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”
I flick my hair over my shoulder as I continue up the stairs. “You’re to remain outside, and I mean that. If not, I’ll pull your own gun on you.” I refuse to let anyone in Romi’s space, except those who can help her. I want to protect her at all costs.
He chuckles behind me. “Wow, you really have grown a pair since hanging around with Lorenzo, haven’t you? It looks good on you.”
I ignore the strange compliment, refusing to acknowledge anything that ties Lorenzo and me together.
I knock on the door twice, and Sienna opens it, looking worse for wear. She pulls me in for a hug, and I’m stunned. “I’m sorry, I know with your dad’s funeral and—”
“Where is she?” I ask, stepping into the apartment and going to close the door. But it's abruptly stopped. When I look back, Sky has his foot in the door.
“Who is this?” Sienna asks, looking between us.
“It’s a long story.” I pin him with an intense glare that promises imminent death.
“Door stays open this much,” he states as he steps away and sits across the hallway. I throw my hands up in the air. Whatever.
When I turn, I brace myself. The place is a mess.
Beautiful paintings that once hung on walls have been shredded and broken over furniture.
It looks like it’s been ransacked. Her roommate's door is closed.
The small circular staircase that leads to the attic seems as if a barrel of black paint has been thrown down it.
Fuck. If this is what the living room looks like, I don’t even want to go upstairs and see the state of Romi’s studio.
I follow Sienna into Romi’s bedroom, and my heart breaks the moment I see her, sitting in the middle of the bed, holding Borris, the little terrier.
Romi’s staring at the ground, her room a chaotic mess, matching the rest of the apartment.
“Romi, I’m here,” I say in my most soothing tone. Romi, who’s usually so full of life, has black paint splattered through her red hair and is still wearing the funeral clothes from yesterday.
A pang of guilt floods me; instead of her usual routine, she was supporting me. I push away that unreasonable blame. Right now, I just need to be here for my friend.
“Romi,” I repeat as I come to crouch in front of her and grab her hand. She doesn’t see me or hear me. Fuck. This is bad.
“I tried,” Sienna says from behind me. “I didn’t know what to do.” Her expression looks hopeless and bleak.
“We need to get her in the shower first,” I say, already in action. The black paint matts her vibrant red hair. Fuck, she might have to cut it. “Romi, I need you to work with us.”
It’s hard seeing her like this, and I can’t help but reflect on myself as I stare at her.
This shell-shocked version was me only months ago when everything happened in Italy.
Romi is one of the strongest, most animated people I know, and yet, seeing that even she can be rattled like this, that her natural instinct is to go within herself, somehow tragically makes me feel more human.
“Hey, little guy,” I say to Borris as I try to peel him from her grip, but it only tightens.
“Romi,” I say again, and bring my hand to cup her cheek.
This time she blinks, and her face ever so slowly tilts toward me.
“Romi, let’s put you in the shower for a little bit, okay?
We’re not going anywhere. Borris needs to eat. ”
She blinks twice and then nods, as if understanding, but still doesn’t hand over the dog. Instead, she uncurls her legs and walks to the kitchen. She’s robotic in movement as she opens the cabinet and pulls out wet food, then slaps it on an open pizza box on the floor and empties its contents.
Slowly, she puts him down and watches as he eats.
Sienna and I share a worried look. It’s ironic that here, despite the circumstances, I feel alive and needed.
Whereas in my own time of mourning with my family, I just feel empty.
I don’t feel any sadness for my father’s passing.
Yet for my best friend, my heart breaks as her world crumbles around her.
Because I understand what that feels like, and I know we both still have a long way to go.
After all, we’re only human, and there’s only so much someone can take until they either snap or shut down.
I just never thought I’d see the upbeat Romi go through it.
Around dusk, I receive a phone call from my brother.
For the most part, Sienna and I have cleaned up the apartment around Romi, who’s now in track suit pants and a black hoodie.
We couldn’t scrub all of the paint out, but that’s the least of our worries as we tuck her into bed and she finally falls asleep, Borris still tightly clutched to her chest.
“Hey, where are you?” my brother asks.
I step into the hallway. “I’m at Romi’s. Her roommate passed away yesterday, and she’s not doing so well.”