She pauses with the door wide open. “Nuh-uh,” she says, unconvincingly.
“Once we’re back together, I’ll come clean,” I say. “She’ll be annoyed at first, but she’ll understand that the ends justified the means. Happily ever after has that effect on people.”
“Or she’ll be so pissed off that you lied to her — again — that she cuts you out of her life for good.”
“Not gonna happen, Trix.”
“And why not?”
“Because she needs me. She might not know it yet, but by this time tomorrow, she will.”
Trix pauses with suspicion. “What did you do?” she asks.
I smirk.
She furrows her brow. “What did you do, Robbie?”
I bat my eyelashes, refusing to answer.
Six
Melanie
After surviving brunch, I stumble home and take a long nap to soothe my aching head.
While Sunday days are usually eventful, Sunday nights are typically a quiet time for me to rest and recharge. Sure, I’ll get invited to the occasional Argento family dinner or I’ll head into the suburbs to see my parents, but lately I’ve just wanted to spend this time alone in my own private space.
Unfortunately, my private space smells like an old leather jacket right now.
I squirm a little on the couch, twisting my body so I can easily bury my nose in the throw pillow. That jacket has always been like a second skin for Robbie since long before I even met him. It was the first thing he bought with his own money at fifteen during a trip to Kansas City. His family hated it. The nosey citizens of the small town he lived in despised it, but that just made him wear it more and more.
I smile. As a girl from a wealthy family from the Chicago suburbs, Robbie’s origin story was always one of my favorite things about him, but the small-town boy in the leather jacket didn’t exactly have the rebellious flair it was meant to. My parents adored him. My friends couldn’t get enough of him.
Meanwhile, I was drowning. I loved it at first. Who wouldn’t love to lose herself in a man who worshiped everything she did or said? A man who gave her everything she ever wanted… but nothing she ever needed.
I hug the pillow. I take a last breath of him before pushing the pillow off the couch onto the floor. It might be safer to kick it off onto the balcony later. Let it air out before I do something I’ll regret.
My cellphone rings. I cringe as the sound burrows a hole deep in my brain. I curse as I reach beneath me to grab it from my pocket and end the repetitive screaming.
I swipe on the speakerphone. “Hello?” I ask, holding it at arm’s distance.
“Hey, honey! How are you?”
I sigh. “Oh, hi, Mom.”
“Uh-oh. Are you okay? You sound sick.”
“Not sick, Mom, just… hit brunch a little hard today, that’s all,” I say.
She laughs. “You girls and your brunch. I guess you should get all the time with them while you still can. You won’t be able to get brunch together so much after you leave for New York!”
“Right,” I say. “Yeah.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to call and confirm this weekend with you. You’re still coming to the holiday party this Saturday, right?”
“I’ll be there,” I answer, happy with the quick change in subject.
“And the girls? They’re coming, too, right?” She cackles. “It’ll just be your dad’s golfing buddies without a few young ladies like you.”
“Yes, Nora and Trix are coming. Said so today. They wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good! I need to get the final total to the caterer by tomorrow morning.”
“Well, put us down for three. Or, five, I guess. They’ll bring dates.”
“And how about you?” she hints. “Will you be bringing a date?”
“No, Mom,” I answer flatly. “I won’t be bringing a date.”
“I’ll just put you lot down for six, just in case—”
“Mom, seriously.”
“You never know, honey. One extra ain’t gonna kill the budget.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“So, I’ll see you all this Saturday. Seven — sharp!”
“Seven sharp,” I repeat.
“Have a good night, honey.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
I hang up and let the phone slip out of my hand onto the carpet. After a few minutes of heavy silence, I sit up on the couch and glance around the dark, empty apartment. It’s far too quiet, making it too easy for me to sink deep into the depths of my thoughts. I’d rather not do that right now. Somewhere around here is the remote to the television, but there’s nothing I feel like binging, either.
I spot my laptop sitting on the coffee table. Might as well skim this week’s words to see if there’s anything worth saving in there.
I open the laptop and set it on my thighs as I get comfortable. The word processor is still open at the place I left it last time, minus about ninety percent of the battery life.
With a grunt, I reach beneath the couch for the power cable. I find it, thank god, and plug in the laptop before it dies.
Finally, I sit back and ready myself for a readthrough.
Wait…
I didn’t make these annotations.
I squint in annoyance, trying to remember when I edited these passages. An extra comma here. A fixed parenthesis there.
You describe her top two different ways in this scene.
More with the roommate! She’s fun.
This paragraph is crap. Cut it.
I blink twice. My editors are never this blunt. No one’s ever given me notes like this except for—
I gasp. “Robbie…” I growl in annoyance.
He read this. Last night, he crashed on my couch, and he read my fucking manuscript?!
Who does he think he is? Why did he think it was the least bit appropriate to invade my privacy like this?
As I read some more, my anger spikes.
Change this.
Change that.
Why does she even like this guy?
I sit back in a huff, taking offense. Um, hello? He’s the hero. Of
