I swallowed the reflex to say sorry, and I faced her fully. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the tender junction between her middle and index finger.
“What can I do?” I asked.
Mona’s lips pressed together, her steady stare looking no less conflicted, maybe even a little resigned. “Give me a minute to talk to my sister.”
My hands tightened on hers and a jolt of alarm made it difficult to breathe. I wanted to deny her. I wanted to drag her out of this room and apartment. I wanted to bring her back with me to the West Coast for the rest of the week and take care of her.
I swallowed those reflexes too. Working my jaw, I nodded. I stepped forward and kissed her quickly. I pressed my forehead to hers.
And, with effort, I forced myself to say, “Whatever you need.”
3
Celestial Mechanics
*Abram*
I waited in the room where Mona was staying, a small guestroom with a sleeper sofa and sparse furniture. Tearing off and tossing my outer layer of winter clothes to the dresser, I pushed my hands through my hair and fastened it back. It needed a cut.
Though the space was cramped, I had an uninterrupted span of nine feet and paced—back and forth—while studying her phone number and email until they were branded on my brain. I would never be without a means to contact her again.
You will see her again. After today, you can talk to her any time you want.
As much as I told myself we had plenty of time, I couldn’t shake the notion that we had no time. In just a few hours, I needed to be on a plane. Despite acknowledging that this afternoon was just the first of many I’d be seeing her during the tour, purpose obsessed me, I was determined: we needed to make plans.
Definite plans. Commitments of time. Promises.
Unfortunately, after the shit-show with Lisa, everything I’d wanted to share and discuss and resolve with Mona had been eclipsed, muddied by her sister’s breathtaking selfishness. I couldn’t believe how Lisa spoke to her, and that Mona allowed it.
You shouldn’t allow her or anyone else speak to you that way. You are so much more and better and worthy than you allow them to treat you.
The words rolled around in my mouth, souring my tongue. I wouldn’t speak them out loud. They would undoubtedly lead to an argument and I wasn’t here to pick a fight. But it wasn’t just Lisa, her brother was just as bad. Even now, days later, the memory of my last conversation with Leo had me seeing red.
“You’ll thank me,” he’d said, sounding convinced. I’d kept my temper up to that point, listening to him call her cold and calculating, emotionless. Every adjective out of his mouth made me want to reach through my phone and punch him in the face. “Just listen to me, I’m trying to help you.”
“I’m never going to thank you for this, Leo. And if you knew your sister—at all—you’d know that she is none of those things.”