This is what my life has become.
There’s a gentle knock on my door, disrupting me from my morbid and self-destructive thoughts.
“Come in.”
A beam of light shines through the room, the door opening at a painfully slow pace. Mama Valentino shuffles through the entrance with a small brown bag in hand. She’s frail, dragging each step in her black leather shoes. Slightly hunched over, her face lifts, meeting my gaze. Staring back at me is the bluest of eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m almost certain Valentino told me his Mama is partially blind.
“You must be Senorita Winters.”
Her accent is thick, more so than Valentino’s.
“Yes, I am,” I respond cordially.
Her pace is starting to frustrate me. If she took this long to walk over here, how long will it take her to alter this dress? I have to be in hair and makeup in less than two hours.
What the fuck is Valentino thinking?
“Are we able to make this quick? Valentino must have told you I need this dress tonight.”
She doesn’t say another word, placing her bag down and opening a small wooden box. The carvings on the lid catch my attention—Latin symbols carved delicately into the wood.
With a needle and thread, she pricks the tip of her index finger.
My cell begins to ring, the tone sounding obnoxiously loud in the room. Morgan’s name flashes on my screen.
“Morgan, I’m kind of busy right now,” I tell her without a hello.
“That’s fine. I’m just driving anyway.” Her voice echoes on the Bluetooth, a horn quickly following in the background. “I wanted to let you know that I managed to find a babysitter, so I’ll be coming tonight.”
The cell almost slips out of my palm, panic rising in my throat, restricting my ability to speak.
She can’t come.
Noah’s coming.
This nasty back-and-forth game of divorce they’re playing is not how I imagined my night to play out.
“But… it’s so last minute, and I’m not sure we can cater for an extra,” I lie, unable to think of something better to say. If I told her Noah’s coming, she will accuse me of taking his side.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know they can fit me in. Besides, I need a night away, and—”
The line goes dead quiet.
“Morgan. Morgan… but… hello… hello?” I check my cell. The call has cut out.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The waves of panic crash into me, each one hitting harder than the last. The muscles in my face begin to tighten, and inside the confinement of my bedroom, the air becomes thick and unbreathable.
“My dear, is everything all right?” the small voice behind me asks.
Mama Valentino must have sensed the tension as my muscles tighten all over me, and my silent heaving hinders her ability to finish her work.
“Family drama,” I blurt out, desperate for a solution to this enormous problem.
Noah and Morgan can not be in the same room.
She pulls on the back of my dress, tightening it around my waist.