Page 185 of Dante
"Two weeks?" Sarah's voice rises. "Marina, we have the children's showcase next week. You've been planning it for months."
Guilt twists in my stomach.
The showcase. Twenty foster kids displaying their artwork. The event I've been organizing since January. The thing that gets me out of bed on the days when my hand won't cooperate and my nightmares won't stop.
"I know." My voice cracks. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"Is someone sick? Is it your parents?"
"It's complicated."
More silence.
"Marina." Sarah's tone softens. "You've been one of my best employees since you started. You never take time off. You never complain. But lately..." She pauses. "You've seemed different. Distracted. Is everything okay? Really okay?"
No.
Nothing is okay.
A cartel wants to kill the man sleeping in the other room. The same man who gave me the best sex of my life. The same man whose childhood trauma makes mine look like a paper cut.
"I'm dealing with some personal things," I say. "I promise I'll explain when I can."
"Okay." Sarah sighs. "Take the time you need. I'll handle the showcase. But Marina? Call me if you need anything. I mean it."
"Thank you."
I hang up before she can ask more questions.
The phone feels heavy in my hand.
I stare at my mother's contact for a long moment. She must be worried sick. I've been dodging her calls for days, giving her one-word answers when I do pick up.
I press call.
She answers on the first ring.
"Marina! Oh thank God. I've been calling and calling. Are you alright? You sound tired. Have you been sleeping? Your father and I were just talking about you this morning and?—"
"Mom." I cut her off gently. "I'm okay."
"You don't sound okay. You sound... different. What's going on, sweetheart?"
I sink onto the leather couch.
The penthouse is beautiful. All clean lines and expensive furniture. Nothing like my small apartment with its secondhand couch and plants on the windowsill.
"I'm just tired," I say. "Work has been busy."
"You work too hard. I've always said that. You need to take care of yourself. Have you been eating? You always forget to eat when you're stressed."
"I've been eating."
Dante made me eat. Watched me finish every bite of the food he cooked with a bullet wound in his side.
"Good. That's good." Mom pauses. "Linda asked about you yesterday. Her daughter just got engaged. Did I tell you? To a very nice accountant. They met at a pottery class, can you believe it? Linda thinks pottery classes are the new dating apps."
I make a sound that might be agreement. She likes saying the same things over and over again.
