32. Tesoro
THIRTY-TWO
TESORO
ISABELLA
Once the tears started, I couldn’t get them to stop.
When I walked into the apartment, Jordan was still in the living room. It reminded me of a parent waiting on a child who was out after curfew. It only took her one look at me to whip out her phone and dial Liz with a 911.
That’s how I find myself sandwiched between the two of them on our sofa, staring at the blank TV screen.
There’s nothing playing, but even if there was, I wouldn’t be paying attention.
I would still be sitting here reliving the fight in the car on repeat.
Picking apart all of the ways I could’ve reacted differently and not found myself in this situation.
“I’m so fucking in love with you.”
Those are the words that replay the most. That hurt the most. Cut the deepest.
I had suspected he loved me, could see it in his eyes whenever he’d look at me for a moment too long and couldn’t hide it away in time. But he never said it.
I know why he didn’t. He was waiting for me. Waiting on me to be there with him. The most ridiculous thing about that though? I was there. I just didn’t realize it until last night when he got hurt. That’s when it hit me what I felt for him.
I hate the way we left things.
I hate that he probably thinks I don’t feel the same way about him.
“I’m so fucking in love with you.”
I hate that I can’t stop crying.
Liz and Jordan are just sitting beside me, letting my silent tears fall.
I haven’t said a word to either of them, so they don’t actually know what’s happened.
About Ryan. But they also haven’t pushed for information yet.
I know they’re probably climbing the walls inside, itching for me to open up. I’m struggling to find the words.
“We broke up,” I finally croak out.
They’re both stunned by my words, but Jordan is the first to pull herself together to speak. “You what?”
“Oh, sweetie,” Liz says, looping an arm around me to hug me into her.
“I thought you were fired!”
I turn my head to Jordan. “That happened too.”
Her eyes widen to a point I’m afraid they’ll pop out of her head. “You mean to tell me he dumped you after getting you fired from your job?” Rage overtakes her features and I’m quick to snatch her wrist when she stands abruptly, no doubt to go hunt down Ryan.
“No, I think I’m the one who dumped him.”
“You think?” Liz asks, words slow, her voice pitching up at the end.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t in the best mindset at the time. I suggested we take a break. And then it all kind of spiraled? Next thing I know, he’s confessing he loves me—” My voice cracks and I have to clear my throat and start over. “In the middle of the breakup.”
“He what?” Jordan gapes at me.
I drop my face into my hands. “What have I done?”
There’s a knock on my bedroom door.
I’m too cozy in my bed to answer it, wrapped in Ryan’s scent that still clings to the Suns T-shirt I sleep in while he’s on away trips.
The knock comes again. “Isa? You’ve gotta get up.” Jordan’s voice floats through the door.
I roll over, turning my back to the door and pulling the blankets over my head.
“It’s been three days. We need some proof of life,” she tries again.
“I’m alive,” I call back, voice rough from disuse and the tears that still come in waves.
“That’s great, but you know it would be nice to actually see your face.”
“No, thank you.”
I hear her sigh from through the door before the sound of retreating footsteps.
I roll over, checking my phone and seeing the messages from my family that’ve been sitting unread for the last three days since the news broke.
Nico
Dude, how could you not tell me you were dating THE Ryan Fletcher??
Mamma
What is this your brother says about a boy?
Papà
Te voglio bene, tesoro.
Between Nico and my parents, I have several messages and missed calls waiting for me to return. My dad’s text cutting the deepest of all. I love you, treasure.
I want to avoid talking to all of them, but I know if I don’t at least speak to someone, they’ll all start blowing up my phone.
Proof of life as Jordan said. I’m dreading the phone call I’ll have with my parents.
To hear their disappointment in me. The pity and sympathy that I’ve screwed my life over so much.
With a sigh, I pick the lesser of two evils. The phone rings a few times before he answers and his deep voice flows over the line.
“Isabella.”
“Nicolas,” I mimic. This is the way we always greet each other. We have our preferred nicknames, but we always rile each other up by defaulting to our full government names.
“Good to know you’re alive in whatever love hole you’re in.”
I sigh. “I’m not in any love hole.” My nose scrunches in disgust at the term. I pause, weighing how much I actually want to tell my brother. “We broke up.”
“What?” The word comes out several octaves higher than his normal voice, almost screechy. “Your relationship goes public and suddenly he drops you? Nope, fuck that. Sta minchia.” My brother spits out.
Even though he just called Ryan a prick, it makes me chuckle that we both have the same penchant to switch to Italian for curses. “No, I dumped him.” The silence on the other end of the line has me checking to make sure the call is still connected. It is. “Uh, Nico? You still there?”
“Still here. Just trying to wrap my brain around why the fuck you’d dump Ryan fucking Fletcher. Was he an asshole? Is he violent? Cazzo, he didn’t hurt you, did he?” Nico keeps riling himself up until he sounds violent enough to want to climb through the phone and murder Ryan himself.
“God, no, Nico. He was great, perfect really.”
“Okay, then I’m going to need some help filling in the blanks here.”
“My work contract had a clause. I wasn’t allowed to date him and we got caught.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. Wow, this really doesn’t get easier to talk about. “I got fired.”
I hear the air whoosh out of him through the line. “Fired? Fuck.” He hesitates a moment. “Do Mom and Dad know?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What do you think?”
“So, that’s a no then.” I can almost see him nodding.
“You’d be correct.” I roll over and switch my phone to the other ear while I think over my next words. “I don’t want to have to tell them I failed. I don’t want to hear their disappointment.” My voice cracks.
“Isa.” Nico’s gentle voice is like a warm blanket. It’s not a tone I’m used to hearing from him. We antagonize each other, not comfort. “You’re not a failure. And they won’t be disappointed in you. They’d just want you to be happy.”
I scoff. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to live up to the same expectations as me.”
He hums. “Maybe not, but I was the one who was still at home after you left for LA. I saw how proud of you they were. How they would brag about your new life out west to everyone who would listen. Never once was your job the highlight of their bragging. Sure, it made an appearance, but they bragged about you. Their strong, independent daughter who chose to find her own way in the world.”
I sniffle as tears burn the back of my eyes. “Really?” I don’t even try to hide the emotion in my voice.
“Really. So, I can say with a fair amount of confidence they’ll only care that you’re happy and safe.”
“I was happy,” I whisper the secret in the dark quiet of my room.
“Then maybe you should find a way to get that happiness back. Whatever that looks like.” We both fall silent for a few breaths before Nico speaks again.
And ruins the moment. “Sooo, are we done with this emotional shit so I can yell at you for not telling me you were dating Ryan fucking Fletcher?” I let out a wet laugh as he peppers me with questions.
The bedroom door is flung open, and I cringe away from the light flooding in from the living room, like a vampire.
“That’s it. Time to get up.” Jordan says, her voice firm and final as she rips away my blanket cocoon.
“Hey!” I protest.
She plants her fists on her hips and glares at me.
“No. Don’t ‘hey’ me. You need to get out of bed.
I’ve let you hide in here for almost a week now.
You lost your job. So what?” I open my mouth to argue but she holds up a hand to cut me off.
“You broke up with your boyfriend? So. Fucking. What? You can’t hole up in your room for the rest of your life.
We need to solve one problem at a time, and hiding in here won’t do it.
You need a job. So let’s go out there and start looking for a new job.
” She extends a hand in my direction. I stare at it, blinking back more tears.
She’s right. I know she’s right. I’m ashamed of myself. I didn’t even hole up like this after my last breakup. I moved on with my life the next day like nothing had even happened.
That’s because you didn’t love him like you love Ryan, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.
Jordan is the bad cop to Nico’s good cop pep talk from a few days ago.
After I hung up with Nico, I bit the bullet and called my parents.
I told them everything. Well, sobbed it to them, but same thing.
And as much as it pains me to admit this—which I will never admit to his face—Nico was right.
My parents only responded to the news of losing my job with the concern you’d expect.
There was no disappointment. They didn’t call me a failure.
They didn’t blame me. In fact, my mom told me she looked up pictures of this Ryan Fletcher and gave me her two thumbs up stamp of approval.
I cave and drop my hand into Jordan’s, letting her tug me out of the bed. I tell myself it’s because I’m hungry and I do need to start the job hunt finally.
It’s definitely not because tonight is the first game Ryan is playing after being benched under the league’s concussion protocol. I certainly haven’t been stalking news on the team to see how he’s been doing.
When I drop onto the couch with my laptop, Jordan’s already queued up the game. My eyes flick to her, questions swimming over my face.
She simply shrugs and pops a bowl of popcorn between us to snack on.
I’m able to get through updating my resume in time for the start of the game. I close my laptop and shove it away so I can focus on the screen.
The second Ryan’s face pops up, I can’t help the words that come out. “He looks like shit.” There are dark smudges under his eyes and his cheeks look sunken. His typically neat trimmed scruff is, for lack of a better word, a mess. The bright blue of his eyes are flat and dull.
I guess the concussion has been a tough recovery.
As if she can hear my thoughts, Jordan shoots me a knowing look that tells me to ‘be for real.’
He doesn’t look like shit because of the concussion.
It’s the breakup. He looks terrible—probably as bad as me if I cared to look in a mirror—because of our breakup.
A fact that only makes me feel worse about myself and the situation I’ve put us in.
Jordan nudges my shoulder with hers. “You should call him.”
All I can do to answer her is shake my head as I continue to stare at him on the screen.
I can’t call him. He probably doesn’t even want to speak to me.
I broke his heart.