Chicken Parmesan-check.
Pasta and sauce-check.
Salads-check.
Wine-check.
Oh! The bread.
Remembering I placed it in the warmer, I run back into the kitchen to grab it. Since my mom has Zoe, and I’m making this dinner for Kostas, I frosted Zoe’s cupcakes and put them away. I figure we can make our wish tomorrow. One day won’t make a difference. Plus, with Kostas being all growly, I figured the best way to calm him down will be to ply him with his favorite food, since I’m on my period and can’t have sex with him. If he’s extra cranky, I’ll give him head. That always softens him up.
I hear the door open then slam shut, and then Kostas’s voice booms throughout the house.
Great, just as I thought…he’s cranky.
“I don’t give a fuck what he said,” he barks into the phone. “I’ve had enough of this back and forth bullshit. I want answers!”
With the bread basket in my hands, I’m stepping into the dining room, when I see Kostas already in there. He yells some more at whoever he’s on the phone with, and then, like it’s happening in slow motion, his fist comes out and swipes at the items on the table. The wine glasses shatter, the chicken parmesan splatters, and the salads fly through the air.
I gape at the destroyed table, my eyes fixated on the red sauce that will stain the wall it’s slowly trekking a path down. The entire meal I just spent hours making is completely ruined.
Kostas’s eyes meet mine, and he looks around, as if now realizing what he did.
“Talia,” he breathes.
“My mom’s watching Zoe for us… I made you dinner,” I choke out. “And it’s ruined.” I don’t have to feel my cheeks to know I’m crying. I know it’s just food, but I worked hard on it to make him feel better and with one swipe, he destroyed it all.
“Shit.” He scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. He’s always frustrated. Always mad. When he found us, it was supposed to be the beginning of our life together, but instead, because of Aris, it’s as if our life is on hold. Kostas tries so hard not to let this side of him show in front of Zoe and me, but I’ve been watching it build and build, and he’s finally reached his boiling point.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, stepping toward me, his brow furling and his eyes shining with remorse. “It’s just…it’s been a bad fucking day.”
Kostas
Talia rushes off and I feel like a fucking animal. I scrub my palm over my face and laugh bitterly. Aris has infected every part of my relationship with Talia straight from the beginning. He’s like a bite from a zombie and as time passes, I’m becoming infected too.
I want to hack him away from me.
Sever him like a diseased limb I’ll be better off without.
We’re at war, my brother and me, and it’s fucking bloody.
But I will win.
Winning means keeping my wife happy. Because when we’re happy, Aris has lost. The loser in a game where he didn’t get the girl. Even when he stole her, she was never his. She will never be his.
I can be pissed as fuck at my brother, but allowing him to creep into our evening time alone and ruin our dinner is too much. He doesn’t deserve that win. And my wife deserves more than that.
With a heavy sigh, I clean up the mess. Sure, we have people to do this, but I need to be the one to do it. To smell the heavenly sauce I won’t get to eat. To curse over the expensive bottle of wine that’s ruined and never tasted. To face the consequences of my destruction. And to clean it all up.
Talia is next.
I’ll kiss her and make it all better.
Once the dining room is cleaned up, I grab a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Then, I pull out some salami, several cheeses, crackers, and grapes. After arranging them on a giant plate, I locate the can of leftover frosting in the fridge. Shoving a spoon into the top, I then place it in the center of my plate of apologies. I tuck the vodka under my arm and grab up the plate. I don’t find her right away because she’s not in our bedroom. Eventually, I locate her in the theater room. Sitting in the dark. Crying. Fuck.
I turn on the lights and she buries her face in her hands. Setting down the plate and alcohol on the table beside a vase filled with fresh Gerber daisies, I pick up the remote to turn on the giant eighty-five-inch screen. It takes some scrolling through Netflix, but I find a version of Romeo + Juliet I can handle. Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. I kick off my shoes and sit down beside her.