“So how come you stayed over again then?”
“Oh, while we played board games, we were drinking beers. I had a few too many and didn’t want to drive home last night.”
“I’m glad you aren’t totally heartbroken over Ethan. You look happier than you have in a long time, actually.”
I grin at her. “Karl makes me smile. He is so interesting. Oh, and I didn’t tell you, he offered to teach me to play guitar.”
I don’t tell her what it felt like to hold a guitar for the first time. How those confusing butterflies fluttered in my chest, or how my fingers twitched over the strings like they were finally home after a long odyssey.
“Really? I was wondering when you’d pick up an instrument or start singing.”
“What?” I ask in surprise.
“It was just a matter of time, Lo. I mean, I have to hum ‘Sweet Child o’ Mine’ or Isael never goes to sleep. Same goes for Sofia and Addy. If she doesn’t play her ‘Marquee Moon,’ Addy stays awake. She’s still mad at you for ruining a classic. Or so she says.” Ileana pauses her rambling, and I snicker. I can’t believe my roommate doesn’t like rock music. She keeps talking. “What I mean is, you’ve always been passionate about music. I’m glad you’re taking guitar lessons. I think it can be a great source of purpose and happiness for you.” Her smile is wide when she finishes.
This is the woman who has seen my darkest days—the days I considered ending the pain. She’s cried with me, and she’s picked me up. I know seeing me happy brings her some sense of hope that I’ll be okay—that she can stop worrying about me.
“Anyway, I have a feeling I’ll be over at Karl’s quite a bit more.”
“If you’re worried about Isael and me, don’t. Between Sofia and me, we can work out a schedule to trade sitting Addy and Isael.”
Ileana works at Sofia’s bar, and it would be easy for them to get on opposite shifts and trade sitting duties. I’m glad I’m not leaving her in the lurch. “I should start paying you rent if I’m not going to earn my keep with babysitting as often—”
She shakes her head. “I won’t hear it. You’re leaving soon, and you need your savings for your fresh start. Besides, you know we’re taken care of.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I do still want to sit some, though. I love Isael, and I’m going to miss him. I’d like to spend time with him before I go.” I tighten my hug around the little bundle of love in my arms. Isael is a living earthquake, full of energy, and some days he makes me cry with the messes he makes—not unlike someone else I recently met—but he is also the sweetest, most loving kid I’ve ever known. I’m reminded I have to leave him too, and tears spring to my eyes.
Her eyebrow arches. “Just him?” she asks.
I laugh through the hurt. “No. Not just him. I’ll miss you too.”
13
KARL
After our game ofLotería, Lola and I have but brief moments to hang out this week. Most of them are over me packing for my move to Bren’s penthouse and letting movers in to bring all of his and Sofia’s crap in boxes.
I didn’t want to hire anyone to help pack because I don’t trust strangers with much, and especially not my axes, so I let Lola help me with this task instead.
By the end of the week, we’re both exhausted, and Lola stays over for the first time on Saturday night. It’s becoming our little tradition, Saturday night pizza dates, and that’s precisely what we do tonight.
When I told Lola I was trading homes with Bren, saying she was ecstatic would do her reaction a disservice. She adores Bren’s penthouse and is over the moon about living there for the remaining month and three weeks of our arrangement. We’re at the mansion for one more week, and she hasn’t moved in full time yet, but I’m hoping she’ll at least stay through the rest of the weekend, and maybe Monday.
Tuesday too, if she wants.
To my delight, she does.
We argued once—which is better than I thought we’d do. She’s still working most mornings, and I told her she doesn’t have to, but she won’t take my money. As much as I’m bothered that she’s wasting her time cleaning homes and potentially putting herself in danger with strangers, I won’t lie and say I’m not a little proud of her work ethic.
It’s a work ethic I share—even if no one fucking knows about it.
And we haven’t started guitar lessons. Not only are all the axes packed, but we’re usually exhausted by the end of the day, and we agreed to start once we settle into the penthouse.
“I didn’t bring enough clothes,” Lola says from her place at the breakfast table.
I look up from reading the news on my phone. “Huh?”
“I’ll have to go home today. I didn’t bring enough clothes to get me through Wednesday.”