26. The Weight of Words Unsaid
26
THE WEIGHT OF WORDS UNSAID
ARIANA
Three days after Monaco, Seattle's weather matches my mood—all steel-gray skies and the kind of rain that feels like the universe is crying with you. Or maybe that's just the protein powder fumes getting to me.
"It's not that bad," Dad insists, stirring what appears to be a radioactive smoothie. "The marketing team says green is very on-trend."
"Dad." I look up from where I've been hiding in his kitchen, surrounded by failed attempt number twelve at Nonna Flora's lasagna. "Your smoothie is glowing."
"That's the superfood blend!" He beams. "Want to try the new formula? Bristol's Bodacious Blend 2.0—now with extra spirulina!"
"I think I'll stick with drowning my sorrows in carbs." I poke at the congealed pasta. "Though apparently I can't even manage that right anymore."
"Sweetheart..."
“It’s fine.” I stand, needing to move. “I’m…fine. So, please. Don’t treat me like some broken thing, Dad. I just can’t. ”
"You're not broken." He sets down the smoothie. "You're hurting. There's a difference."
"Is there?" I gesture to the kitchen chaos. "Because from where I'm standing, I'm doing a pretty good job of destroying everything I touch."
Just like I destroyed things with Connor.
Just like I ruin everything good in my life by trying to control it.
"That's not true." Dad moves closer. "You've never destroyed anything. You've only ever tried to protect people. To be strong for everyone else."
"Yeah?" My laugh sounds hollow. "How's that working out?"
Before he can answer, Lily bursts in, brandishing what appears to be several thousand dollars' worth of shopping bags.
"Retail therapy!" She announces. "Plus wine. And possibly some slightly illegal Italian chocolates that may or may not have required bribing a customs official."
"Lily..."
"Nope!" She begins unpacking. "No arguing. No wallowing. No more stress-cooking Italian food while pretending you're not thinking about a certain billionaire's pancake preferences."
I definitely haven't been thinking about Connor's pancakes. Or his hands. Or the way he looked at me that last night in Monaco, like I'd broken something precious.
Like I'd broken him.
My phone buzzes.
YASMIN: I know you said you didn’t need updates, but…
YASMIN: Just FYI
YASMIN: Also, your replacement starts next Monday
YASMIN: P.S. He’s miserable. I don’t know if that helps…
It doesn’t. And it does. I release a shaky breath, pocketing the phone.
"Here." Lily thrusts a glass of wine at me. "Drink this. Then we're having a fashion show. "
"I don't need?—"
"A fashion show?" Kat appears, looking suspiciously unsurprised. "Good. Maybe we can finally burn that Elvis robe."
"It's evidence," I mutter into my wine.
"It's a cry for help." She drops onto a kitchen stool. "Though not as much as Dad's protein empire."
"Hey!" Dad protests. "The kidney support group loves my products!"
"The kidney support group is afraid of hurting your feelings." Lily starts laying out clothes. “And the new spokesman is... interesting."
I freeze. "What spokesman?"
"Oh, didn't I mention?" Dad brightens. “Will’s been helping with the marketing! He’s the one who initially gave me the idea—well, after I threatened to cut his balls off for what he did to you. But after the threats and knife-brandishing, you know, what he talked about made a lot of sense. Said something about 'authentic wellness journeys' and 'karmic balance through nutrition.'"
The wine glass slips from my grip.
Lily lunges to catch it, somehow managing to knock over Dad's experimental smoothie in the process. Green liquid explodes everywhere, coating the kitchen in what appears to be radioactive protein powder.
"Oops?" She offers.
"At least it's not glowing anymore," Kat notes.
I stare at the mess, remembering another kitchen disaster. Another family moment. Another time when everything felt possible instead of broken.
"Ariana?" Dad's voice is soft. "Sweetheart?"
"I'm fine." But I'm not. I'm really, really not. "I just... I need some air."
I flee to the back porch, Seattle's rain matching my mood as I sink onto the old swing. The same swing where Mom used to read to us, where she'd hold me during thunderstorms, where she...
Where she taught me that being strong means being alone.
I close my eyes, remembering everything I tried not to see in Monaco. The way Connor's hands shook when he walked away. The way his voice broke on that final lie about nothing being real.
The way he looked at me like he wanted to stay.
Like he wanted to be brave.
Like maybe he loved me too.
"You know," Kat's voice carries from the doorway, "Mom would have liked him."
I swipe at my eyes. "What?"
"Connor." She sits beside me. "She would have liked how he challenges you. How he makes you brave."
"I wasn't brave." I laugh wetly. "I was a coward. I ruined everything because I was too scared to trust. To need. To?—"
"Love?" She bumps my shoulder. "Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? Not the marriage or the IPO or any of the excuses you're both hiding behind."
"Kat..."
"You love him." She says it simply. "And he loves you. And you're both too scared of ending up like your parents to admit it."
The revelation hits me square in the chest.
Because she's right.
I'm not afraid of needing Connor. I'm afraid of losing him like I lost Mom. Like he lost his mother. Like we both learned that love means watching someone slip away while you're still holding on.
After a while, she sighs. "Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell him?About the marriage, I mean. About all of it."
I swallow hard, staring into the rain. "Because if I said it out loud, it would be real. And real things… they can fall apart. "
"You really believe that?"
I let out an empty laugh. "Everything I’ve ever let myself need has been taken from me, Kat. Mom. Dad, in a way, when he got sick. And Connor… he was never really mine to keep, was he?"
She watches me for a long time. "Ari, you didn’t keep it from us because you thought we’d judge you. You kept it from us because you were scared of how much you wanted it to last."
Tears burn behind my eyes, and I shake my head. "It doesn’t matter now. He won’t take my calls. Won’t let me explain. Won’t?—"
"Fight for you?"
I blink. "What?"
"Maybe," she says carefully, "he’s waiting for you to fight for him. To prove that someone will actually stay."
"I tried."
"Did you?" She raises an eyebrow. "Or did you let him walk away because it was easier than risking everything?"
Before I can respond, a crash sounds from inside.
"It's fine!" Lily calls. "Everything's fine! Though, uh... maybe don't drink anything green for a while?"
"Oh god." Kat stands. "We should?—"
"Go." I wave her off. "Before Dad tries to salvage the smoothie."
She hesitates in the doorway. "You know we love you, right? That we're not going anywhere?"
"I know."
"Good." She smiles sadly. "Now maybe try believing that about someone else too."
She leaves me with the rain and the memories and the ghost of everything I almost let myself have.
My phone buzzes one final time:
MADAME ROUSSEAU: The studio misses you, chérie
I stare at the screen until the words blur .
Because I miss it, too. I miss dancing.
With my mom. With Connor.
Seems like the only thing I’ve been successfully dancing around lately…is my feelings.
And that’s got to end.
Another crash sounds from inside, followed by Dad's voice: "Don't worry! The protein powder is totally fire resistant!"
“That’s not reassuring! Like, at all!” Lily shrieks.
"Though maybe," Kat adds, "we should call the fire department? Just in case?"
I look at my phone again, at all the messages I've sent that Connor won't read, at all the words I've tried to say that he won't hear.
And suddenly, I know exactly what I have to do.
Even if it means being brave enough to stay.