The Ruin (Convenience #3) - Stella Gray Page 0,8
when Mateo’s working, but I text back anyway: What Luka thing??
His reply comes back right away. Oh shit. Can’t talk rn, will call you as soon as we wrap up. xoxoxxoxo
What is it, Mat? Just tell me.
There’s no response. I take a deep breath and stare into space for a minute, realizing I’ve been way too absent from the world—and social media. But burying my head in the sand is the only thing that’s been keeping me sane. Is Luka already dating someone else? Was he seen out and about with Monica? Did he release a statement about our impending divorce?
There’s no point speculating right now, and I’m sure as hell not ready to turn on the news until I have a fresh drink in my hand. Guess that means it’s time to get out of the apartment.
After changing out of the yoga pants and ratty T-shirt I’ve been wearing for the last two days, I pull a baseball hat over my messy ponytail and de-grease my face with a quick swipe of loose powder, applying a few drops of liquid lip and cheek tint for good measure. That’s about all I have the energy for. By now, Mr. Kibbles has started running around in excited circles, anticipating our departure. I wait for him to sit still before I clip on his leash, then slip into my flip-flops and head out the door.
The sun is bright and welcoming as we step outside, a perfect antidote to my low mood. Pausing on the stoop, I take a full breath of the clean air and let the heat seep into me.
My phone starts pinging with social media notifications, but I shove it to the bottom of my bag so I can take my walk in peace. The only thing I’m interested in right now is hearing from Mateo, and he won’t be calling for a few hours. I’d rather a close friend break the news to me than have to find out about whatever’s going on with Luka via random tweets or IG posts.
Besides, I’m sure the notifications are just a bunch of shares and likes and mentions of the images of Mateo and me that exploded all over TMZ and social media—as intended—while I was in LA. The infuriating thing is, even with all the pictures and resulting chatter connected to my name, Luka never said a word to me. Not even an angry text berating me for causing detriment to the DRM image. Nothing. So I’ve taken to ignoring my social media alerts. I have zero interest in what other people have to say about my nights of hard clubbing. The only person I was trying to get at has gone radio silent. It’s obvious he couldn’t care less about what I do.
I mean yes, I was the one who asked for the divorce, but there’s still a part of me that wants Luka to wish that I’d come back. To miss me. To fight for me. The fact that he hasn’t just proves that he never loved me to begin with. Maybe we’re both better off.
There’s a little family-owned grocery store a few blocks down, and luckily, they carry alcohol and organic produce because I’m going to need a vodka twist with my dinner. Lately it feels like the only things I can manage to do successfully are stuff my face and drink.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” I promise Mr. Kibbles, clipping him to the post outside the store where the owners always keep a few bowls of fresh water. There’s a fabric awning overhead, so I know he’ll be comfortable in the shade. He gives me a sad look, then curls into a ball on the sidewalk and rests his head on his paws.
When I go inside the market, it’s quiet. I take one last look out the huge glass windows to make sure Kibby is okay, then grab the ten or so items I came for and head to the checkout line.
“How do you think Mr. Zoric will react to seeing his son take the witness stand? Was he aware beforehand that his children would be subpoenaed?”
My head snaps up as the words reach my ears. The voice sounds exactly like a news reporter asking questions. Glancing desperately around, I find a small TV sitting on a shelf behind the cashier at the checkout. I can barely see the screen thanks to the people in line in front of me, but I can tell it’s set