Page 95 of The Love Losers

There’s a half second pause, and I find myself getting off the bed and pacing, the old boards creaking under my feet. “Maybe. I’m not going to bullshit you. Thosearepossibilities. Bad possibilities, but possibilities nonetheless. But we don’t leaveanyone behind, Rosie. That’s not who we are. That’s not who you are either.”

Hearing that soothes me, because I believe her, but in my head I can see my brother’s face. He’d made it pretty obvious that he believed Anthony would, and should, marry someone else to get the money.

“Declan wants me to go to New York with him.”

She sighs. “Big brothers cause ninety percent of the trouble in the world.”

“Probably.”

“You’re not going, are you? We can take care of this, Rosie. I can find something good on that Nina chick, no problem.”

“What about the stalker?”

“Nina’s looking good for it,” she says, “but like I told you, she might be looking too good. Damien and I are finding intel on this rival housing development, but—"

“It’s Christmas, and we’re in the middle of a snow storm.”

“Yes, and you haven’t seen this place on snow. People in this area can’t drive in the snow. It’ll be closed down for at least two days.”

Panic edges in, because I don’t have days.Anthonydoesn't have days.

“Nicole, I don’t know what to do.”

“If you tell anyone this, you’re dead to me,” she says. “But I’m going to pull some real New Age shit and tell you that youdoknow what to do. You just have to listen. Maybe drink some of Joy’s tea.”

“My brother and Jake disposed of all of it after they got back from the apartment.”

“Didn’t you say Joy went with them?”

“She did,” I acknowledge.

“I guarantee you they didn’t get all of it.”

Huh. She’s probably right, but I’m not convinced getting high is the solution to any of this. Or even that there is a solution.

“Thanks, Nicole. Merry Christmas.”

“Ho-ho-ho,” she says, then hangs up the call.

I’m restless, unmoored, and I find myself typing out a text to Anthony.

Is your hand okay? Please tell me you went to the emergency room.

I have a million questions for him, but that’s the first, because I hate the image of him in my head. The worry that he might have spent all day alone out in that garden, bleeding. Surely the guard would have helped him. Or his mother.

There’s no response, no three dots, and I have to remind myself that it’s past midnight on Christmas. He’s probably asleep.

Or with Leigh or Nina.

I don’t really believe it, but it still hurts. It reminds me of what it felt like to find out Jay had asked me to marry him knowing full well he was already married. Or that Roman had a wife and two kids, and I was the woman who was wrecking them without even knowing it.

Maybe I’ll always be the cherry, the afterthought, the dessert that gives someone a bellyache of regret.

This time it’s my fault, but that doesn’t make it easy.

I pace in the room until I get too tired to keep moving and lie down. I only sleep in stolen snatches, like a cat drifting in and out of slumber in the sun, until light leaks through the openings in the blinds. The first thing I do is check my phone, my stomach dropping when I see the reply from Anthony:

LEAVE ME AND MY FAMILY ALONE.

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