mocks. It must be his personality, but he’s a serious dick. Except when it involves his mother.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
He smiles. It’s not really a smile, just a slight tilt to his lips. Almost boyish, almost homicidal, but all him. “Everyone is going to hate you,” he snarks. “Everyone except me, and I don’t even like you.”
“Fuck off,” I hiss.
“Let’s go inside. Meet the dear ole fam.” He hops out of my car before I can respond and is trailing to the house. He doesn’t wait for me, so I’m stumbling over myself to keep up. He must find me amusing because in the next instance, a dark chuckle escapes the Satan spawn.
When we reach the door, he doesn’t hesitate to swing it open. His eyes are haunted when he walks inside. He must have memories here he doesn’t like to relive. Honestly, I know the feeling.
“I’m not usually here, but I heard a little storm is visiting for spring break, and I couldn’t resist.” His euphemism is lost on me for only breaths before that scene comes to mind, the one I walked into. He calls Gray his storm. It’s not a bad name, but it definitely isn’t in kind either.
“Why do you hate her?” I ask without thinking twice about my life.
“She fucked up, and I intend to make her pay.” Shaking my head and knowing better than to meddle, I follow him through the foyer to a living room. It’s vast, the ceilings are vaulted, and I can here dishes rattling. He looks back at me and points his head in the direction of the sound.
Walking the distance to the kitchen, I see my idol. She’s holding a huge baking sheet of asparagus and onions. It smells divine in here. Like olive oil, oregano, and parmesan cheese.
“Mom,” Ace calls out, scaring Lo. She startles a moment before setting the hot pan down.
“Jesus, Ace. Be less invasive next time, huh?”
Her voice is as soft as I remember it. She has this kind way of speaking, like she’s a goddess who has more emotions inside her than a psychiatrist’s office.
“Oh! Josephine?” she asks, almost like her mom brain is a permanent fixture. I wouldn’t know. “I was so worried about you!”
“Yes?” I mutter confused.
“Honey, why do you look so distraught?”
“Mom, this is Josephine Hayes.”
As he says my last name, Lo’s face hardens in a sad way. Like memories flow into her, hitting her where it hurts more. She’s so soft around the edges, so seeing this much pain on the surface seems unnatural.
“Hayes,” she repeats softly, bereft, and almost faraway.
“Toby is my husband,” I mutter. It sounds like a thousand light bulbs bursting, until I’m met with only silence. It’s like being buried six feet deep and the only noise is the breath leaving your body as you suffocate slowly.
It’s a painful pause.
Stifled and stagnant.
I hate it.
“You didn’t mention that when we met,” she mutters poignantly. In her eyes, I see a deep-seated emotion. I’m not sure what that is because I don’t know her well enough to tell one from the other, but it’s not a kind one. Is she jealous? Was I wrong in thinking she was over my husband? Does she still love him?
My heart feels like it’s on a spindle, being spun by Rumpelstiltskin, not made into gold though—made into deadly strands of hopelessness.
If she still loves him, that means he could go back to her.
Why does it matter? You left him...
Even walking away, I don’t want him with her or anyone else. The thought spears me, hurting me deeply.
“I didn’t want you to refuse to see me. Regardless of how it looks, I really did want to ask you for advice. It was cut a little short by Toby.”
“He was there?” she hisses, gripping her chest. I turn to Ace, his face blank and expressionless. Smart kid. Holding it close to the vest.
“He was about to yell. I could see it on his face, but I didn’t think it was a good time. Being you were with his child in that coffee shop.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. They are deathly like this.
Ace clears his throat from behind me. “I think you should go,” he states, his softer tone from earlier vacant in the words.
“No, she can stay. Seems like your uncle has been up to a lot. And Josephine here has been digging a little too deep.”
“Is Lev really Toby’s?” Ace asks. The smallness in his voice is one of a