I narrow my eyes at her, but mostly to cover up the fact that I’m actually starting to like the crazy old bat. I assume she’s old at least, she’s got the kind of face that keeps you guessing.
“So—”
“Piz-dets, can I at least eat in peace?”
“No,” she replies tersely. “You need to face certain things. The denial is not helping.”
“Not this again.”
“Esme—”
“Is gone,” I finish abruptly. “She doesn’t fucking need me.”
“I didn’t say she did,” Aracelia replies calmly. “But you need her.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“We all need someone.”
“And who do you have, eh?”
“Oso,” she replies, without hesitation.
“Who the fuck is that?” I demand. “Boyfriend?”
“My cat,” she replies. As though it’s a serious fucking answer.
I just stare at her for a moment. “Your cat?” I repeat.
She smiles. “And you.”
I shake my head at that. “No. You do not have me. I am not your fucking friend.”
“So you keep telling me. But the truth is we’re bonded now, Artem,” she tells me. “Whether you like it or not.”
“We’re bonded? What the fuck have you been smoking?”
“I saved your life,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. “That creates a bond between two people. You’re just not willing to admit it. You know, denial will only get you so far, boy.”
“Who’re you calling a boy?” I ask, glaring at her.
That word brings up bad memories. Memories of my father, the night at The Siren when everything in my life changed forever.
“A man would face the things he’s afraid of. You won’t. Por lo tanto, that means you are a boy.”
“I’m not fucking afraid of anything. Not anymore.”
“That’s because you’ve pushed away everything you care about.” She taps her forehead like she sees something I’m still too slow to get.
I don’t appreciate the gesture.
“I didn’t push anything away,” I argue. “Esme left of her own free will. Goddammit, why are we even having this conversation?”
“Esme left because she felt like she had no choice,” Aracelia retorts. “She was afraid for the baby. Have you even thought about the baby?”
“I think about the baby every single fucking second of every single fucking day,” I rasp. It hurts to say. But it’s true.
Even if this is the first time I’ve ever admitted that out loud.