Page 67 of 32 Days in May

I spin around toward the sink, and just as I’m about to turn on the tap, his voice fades completely. I stay perfectly still, even holding my breath, listening for the sound of his sneakers on the stone floors.

But there’s nothing.

Stillness.

I tighten my grip on the pills, turning more and more powdery in my sweaty palm.

Then, Marco laughs—a big, booming noise that makes my stomach and shoulders lurch. Suddenly, a burst of air whips through the room, tossing the balcony doors open, throwing around the hand towel. I cringe as everything clatters and bangs around me, sun streaming out from behind a cloud and falling over me and my mess, throwing us into harsh relief—even the spinning, shining particles of dust in the air look, suddenly, like jagged bits of glass. I tighten my fingers around my medicine.

“Nadia?” Marco calls out to me. “You okay?”

I must have made a sound.

My chest tightens, my breath catches. I throw the handful of pills into the toilet and flush.

Then, I spin around.

But Marco’s not behind me.

It was just a gust of wind. That’s it. A gust of wind.

I press a hand into my chest, willing my heart to still.

The toilet drains with an immense amount of noise. My pills swirl away, and my eyes turn dry as I stare on in horror.

Anxious heat prickles down my neck, every exposed inch of my skin coming alive with dread. How much of my medicine had I been holding? Not all of it. No way. I wouldn’t have—couldn’t possibly have—

“Nadia?” He raps at the bathroom door with his knuckles. “Everything okay?”

I press my lips together until they stop trembling. I’m okay, I tell myself. I will be okay.

“Yep,” I call out finally. “All good.”

Tuesday, May 16

I haven’t checked my phone in two days, and even though I know my sister well enough to not anticipate any sort of open, vulnerable communication, I still crave it. While I shower, I let my mind wander to a daydream, a fantastical near-future where my sister picks us up from the airport. She meets Marco; she comes back to Evergreen; she pulls me aside and tells me, You two are soulmates. It’s so obvious.

No way, I’d say back.

I feel pathetic for yearning so completely for her acceptance, yuck. But shouldn’t it be enough for her—to see me deliriously happy, even if it’s just for a little while? It’s been so long since I’ve been this happy.

After drying my hair, applying makeup, and stealing a sip of the coffee Marco’s just brewed, I connect to the apartment Wi-Fi and wait for my phone to ding.

Marco still hasn’t revealed to me the work reason for this trip, but not for my lack of trying. With little to no information about our upcoming evening, I put the decision about my outfit completely in his hands. He chooses the white linen pants and matching blazer with nothing but my golden skin and black bralette underneath.

I’m securing the strap of my sandal around my ankle when Marco appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame, floating on a cloud of cologne and shower steam. His outfit is simple, elegant, and all black. Next to each other, we’ll be in perfect harmony.

He lets out a slow whistle when I look up to catch his eyes. “Damn.” He looks rugged with a few days’ worth of stubble on his chin, his heavy bottom lip pulled back between his teeth. Our eyes meet and he moves toward me like my eyes contain a magnetic quality.

“You like it?”

“I . . . I love it.” He takes my hand in his and pulls me to my feet, then to his chest, closer and closer until our lips meet.

“Can you tell me anything about where we’re going?”

“Wait just a little longer. The surprise is worth it, I swear.”

“Better than this?” I ask