It ends up being Karl who cooks the eggs.
When he sets the plate of scrambled eggs in front of me, the fog in my brain lifts and the tears flow freely. That’s how Ethan likes his eggs. Scrambled.
“Shit, doll,” he whispers in the seat next to me. “I’m sorry.” Karl grabs the chair’s legs to drag it closer to him, and he takes me in his arms, his hands rubbing circles on my back. “He’s a fuckingdrecksau,” he says in a voice so harsh, the German insult must be really nasty.
His embrace is so comforting, I only sob harder into his neck. It finally sinks in.
Ethan is horrible. He lied to me. He’s been lying to me for a long time. How long has he been dating Megan? I need to drown my cell in a glass of water before I’m tempted to text him a million questions.
And his lies didn’t end there. He lied again today. He said he waited because he wanted to break it off in person, but he lied to me about not coming home for break. Ethan never intended to break it off with me. He was going to string me along for . . . how long? Was he planning on having me as his side-piece in Mexico when he vacationed and keep Megan as his girlfriend at home? When did he turn into such an ass? He’s not the Ethan I know. Not the Ethan I fell in love with freshman year. Not the Ethan who held me up so I wouldn’t fall apart at the funeral. He’s someone different now, I guess.
I break away from Karl and smile through my tears, embarrassed. “Do me a favor?” I ask him.
“Anything.”
“Confiscate my cell until I leave? I don’t want to be tempted to call and ask Ethan my million questions. He’s not worth my time.”
“You got it.”
I pull my phone from my jeans pocket and hand it to Karl. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask you a favor in return?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“Hang out with me today. Not as an employee. I enjoy your company. You’re not . . .fakelike everyone else I hang out with. And it’ll make me feel better to know you’re okay.”
I smile at him and nudge him under the table with my knee. “You’re sweet, Karl Sommer. You know that?”
He smiles wide. “I do know that, Dolores Beltran.”
The afternoon passes by as we talk about everything and anything under the sun but mostly music. In the evening, when my tummy rumbles, I offer to cook something, but Karl shakes his head and proposes pizza again. I smile. This is my second Saturday night pizza . . . date? No. This is not a date.
After eating, we relocate to Pixel’s part of the house, and I sink into a giant, comforting bean bag chair. Pixel can sense my sad mood because she curls up next to me, and the chair is big enough for both of us. Karl takes the chair across from us.
I hug Pixel tightly. “I really did love him,” I say and wipe a lone tear from my cheek.
“I know.”
“When my parents died, he was my rock. And so incredibly understanding. If it weren’t for him, and Ileana, and Sofia . . . I don’t know what would have happened to me.”
Karl’s eyes darken as he nods.
“Until he had to go away to college, Ethan was the sweetest.”
“People change, Lola. And college, that’s an entirely different environment.”
I nod. “You know, when he first went away without me, I think I knew. He’d continue to learn and grow, and I’d be stuck in the same place. I knew we’d never last.”
“Don’t say that, Lola. Life teaches us more than college does.”
“Did you go to college?” I ask him.
Karl rolls his eyes. “Like you aren’t a super fan who already knows everything there is to know about all of us in the band?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
I try to remember if I ever read about his educational background. “Well, I know Bren, Adrian, Milo, and Fritz all met at university in Berlin. But I don’t think I ever read about you going to college.”
“I went for one year before dropping out.”