But I’m sure as fuck going to cry over Delaney Luciano.
I’m staring at yet another meme I can’t send Jessie, saving it into a folder on my phone with a hundred others. I don’t know why I’m doing it. Saving these stupid memes, but I keep adding more and more, each one piling onto the heaviness in my heart. Two and a half weeks have gone by since I ran out of his condo, and I haven’t heard a single word from him since. I knew I wouldn’t, because I specifically asked him for space and Jessie will do anything I want, even if it means hurting himself.
Donatello comes into the room and I turn the phone so he can see the image, he smiles but doesn’t laugh and I turn my phone back around. Jessie would have laughed. “Where are you going?”
He has his boots on already, his fingers wrapped in their rings. “The south warehouse.” He looks over at me as he throws on his leather jacket, watching me as I set my phone on the counter and cross my arms. “Do you want to come?”
“No.” I want to see Jessie.
He crosses the kitchen to get to me, and I tilt my face back to look up at him. He places a kiss on my lips, fingers lingering on my chin as he pulls back. “I love you, Vita Mia.”
“I love you, too.”
He drops another kiss on my lips before turning away, heading toward the door. “I won’t be late.”
I don’t respond to him, just listen to the front door as it shuts. I slide onto the island seat, staring at my phone on the counter. I’ve been doing anything and everything the last few days to try and ignore the ache in my heart, the anxiety gathered in my gut. I want to talk to Jessie. Make sure he’s okay and healing, but I can’t. Besides, I have no way to without sparking up a wildfire of problems.
Every time I close my eyes all I see is the crack in his heart, the stake I stabbed into his chest. It just about killed me to do it, to make him feel that type of pain. I had to do it though. It was one man or the other and he’s safer without me in his life. I can feel my throat tightening at the reminder, and I move from my seat in an attempt to change the direction of my thoughts. Maybe I should go with Donatello. He only left a few minutes ago. He might still be here.
Opening the front door, I almost run into the woman standing there. Her arm raised like she was about to knock. “Oh, sorry I didn’t realize anyone was out here.” She smiles at me, dropping her arm and I realize I know who she is. “Olivia? You’re a secretary at one of the warehouses, right?”
“Uh, yea. I am.” She smiles, but it's forced and I watch as her hands adjust the oversized sweater she has on.
“Can I help you with something?” I’m trying not to be rude but considering the last time I saw her she was all over Donatello, it’s a struggle.
“I actually came to see Donatello. Is he here?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I frown at her. “No, he just left. I can take a message for you?” It’s mimicking every time she ever said that to me on the phone, and I give her a closed mouth smile, leaning against the door frame.
“This is serious. I really need to talk to him.”
I hum, staring at her ashy bleached hair and perfectly applied makeup. It’s annoying to me that she’s pretty, and I’ve seen her without her makeup to know she looks great both ways. Bitch. “I don’t know what to tell you. He just left.”
“I… can you please call him.” She looks like she’s about to cry and it puts me on edge. I don’t think she’ll tell me what she came for without Donatello being here, and it’s the only reason I oblige, dialing his number as I watch her pinch her lips together.
“Pronto.” He must have answered his car phone without looking at the number.
“It’s me, are you far? Can you come back home?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But Olivia is here to see you.”
There’s a pause in the line, but I can hear the sound of the engine.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She won’t tell me, only wants to talk to you.”
He sighs into the phone, and my gaze lands back on the woman in front of me.
“Fine, give me ten minutes.”
It’s extremely awkward waiting for Donatello to get there, both of us sitting on opposite ends of the couch, staring around the room. I don’t even know why I’m entertaining her and not just telling her to fuck off, but part of me wants to hear what she has to say. And if it’s as important as she seems to think it is, I want to hear it from her mouth, not a potential secondhand lie from Donatello’s.
Olivia jumps up when he opens the door and I frown at her, eyes leaving her fidgeting hands to Donatello’s equally annoyed face.
She hesitates, looking between us before she finally talks to him. “Can I talk to you in private?”
His arms fold over his chest and he shakes his head, “Spit it out Olivia. What the fuck are you doing here?”
Her face falls at his tone, her eyes shifting my way and back. “I… “ I almost feel bad for her, standing there with the both of us staring at her like she has a second head. “I’m pregnant.”
I laugh. It’s rude and completely inappropriate, but it just comes out, loud
