3. Chapter 3
Dom
Saint: What the hell happened? Are you okay?
Logan: Report coordinates asap.
Dom: I'm on my way home. I'm fine.
Absolutely thriving, over here. Fuck.
A driver is taking me to my place and all I do is stare out of the window.
No details get registered. My jaw gets a workout with the way I clench my teeth.
I thought I had come up with the best plan.
It should have been simple. If I was going to see Mariana again after so long, then I'd keep it casual.
I'd be unaffected. Things would eventually settle and I'd go back to the life I chose for myself post royal fucking marriage.
I'd be my mother's son and keep going despite everything, dammit.
My idea was to turn around and move on. Ignore that the guy her parents liked for their darling princess of a daughter had the kind of inherited prestige I could never acquire by hard work. Yet as soon as I saw her— as soon as she called me out— I let out things I’ve kept buried deep for years.
Damián: Suuuuuure. That's why you left like that.
Saint: Yeeeaaah, that's why your last words were 'you have my regards'. Who are you?
Bear: Where are you?
Dom: I am fine. Just annoyed. Don't intervene. Everything is fine.
Logan: 'Fine', he says. Thrice. Do we believe him? Time for a vote.
Dom: Enjoy Cora's party. Tell your better-halves not to stir the pot. Nothing happened.
Bear: Pen doesn't stir the pot.
Logan: Evie is only keeping an eye on things.
Damián: We're all keeping an eye on things and, at least on our side, things are calm. What about you? How are you doing?
Just processing a minor explosion I didn't expect. All it took was a few words and we— I— I think it was me— went for the jugular. We rehashed things I didn't want to care about, like we've been waiting years to have this fight. Maybe we had.
Did she love him? Was it easy for her to move on, when I couldn't for the longest time?
Dom: Did you hear us? Were we too loud?
Logan: You weren't. The two of you coming out of the kitchen like that was quite the shock. But now we know things happened in there.
Dom: Only a mild argument. Forget about it.
Saint: My vote is aye on the intervention.
Damián: Aye
Bear: Aye
Dom: I AM SERIOUS. Leave Mariana and me alone.
Logan: Aye. That seals it.
My nostrils flare. I clench and unclench my free hand.
My molars grind together. My friends don't need to know all the details to assume things I want to avoid.
They're too obsessed with love. In their own way, they're trying to make sure I get my happily ever after, too.
I can't tell them our story. They'd jump to conclusions I want to avoid and, despite everything, I won't air my grievances. What's in the past should stay there.
I'll need to find a different way to manage the aftermath of our blowup. There has to be a way to keep a safe distance.
Dom: I'm home. Annoyed at you all now, too. No need for an intervention and please, please do not get involved.
Damián: All right, but that's not a promise it won’t happen. You can relax for now.
Saint: We'll keep an eye out. The time will come and when you need it, we'll be there.
Dom: I'm turning off my phone now.
Bear: It's okay. We know where to find you.
And sooner or later, I'll face Mariana again.
After tonight, I'm not sure I can hope for a calm and mature conversation. Perhaps there's too much unresolved pain. Maybe the fact we knew each other so well back in college makes it hard to fake pleasantries. It could be that the hurt will demand to be seen somehow.
Well, it's done now. We let it out. No need to go there again. And if we can't be detached, we can find a way to appear neutral in front of my friends.
Or at least, that's the new plan.