Page 92 of Burn for You

“Hey Mom.”

“Mayberry! How are you, my angel?”

I cringe internally at the terrible nickname she loves to call me. “I’m good. How are you? Where are you?” She looks like she’s surrounded by alpacas?

“We are in Peru at a llama farm! Look, Dave’s feeding one now!” She turns the camera so I can see Dave flinching as the llama eats little pellets out of his hand.

“He needs to flatten his hand,” I say, watching as Dave narrowly misses getting his pinky chomped off. “Tell him to open his palm.”

“Open your palm, sweetheart!” Dave jumps as the llama licks his hand and my mom laughs so loudly, I need to adjust the volume on my phone.

“How are things going with you two?” I ask. It kind of feels like an odd question to ask my mom, considering we don’t really talk like this, don’t really talk at all. But something about the way her face drops after she’s finished laughing makes the question bubble up.

“Since when have you had a bath in your apartment?” She says, avoiding the question completely.

I didn’t even realize I never told her I moved to Italy. I’d feel guilty except for the fact that I quite literally never know where she is in the world at any given moment. The fact that she’s even called me at all is surprising.

“I moved to Italy.”

“Italy! There must be some gorgeous men there, huh?” I flinch when the image of Rafael appears in my head immediately.

Of course that’s what she thinks about first. Yes, my mom doesn’t trust men, but that doesn’t mean she’s not constantly checking them out.

“Pretty gorgeous,” I say mindlessly. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Sorry, what question?”

I roll my eyes. “Is everything okay with you and Dave?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don’t know, you just have this kind of look in your eye.”

“Mayberry, you know how it is in relationships. Men…they’ll always let you down in one way or another. Dave isn’t immune to those traits.”

My tummy sinks at the reminder, and my memory throws me back to the man who let me down. My mind floods with the images of his face when I told him about the positive pregnancy test, the image of his back as he walked away.

I need to change the subject.

“Oh! Dave is inside the fence. Oh! Oh my god! I need to go! Love you sweetie, bye!” The call disconnects.

Well, that was as hectic as ever.

I sigh as I drop my phone over the edge of the bath before sinking down into the water, letting it wash over my hair.

I don’t know why simply talking to my mother reminds me of all the things that can—and have—gone wrong. It’s the one thing she never lets me forget, even when she’s not trying to tell me anything. It’s like as soon as I hear her voice, I'm reminded of the lessons she drilled into me all those years ago.

When Owen left me, and I learned that I wasn’t pregnant, it felt like someone had dug a grave for my heart, tossed it in and covered it in dirt before I could even catch up. It’s the prime example of why relationships with men don’t work. Not serious ones, anyway. I can basically hear my mother’s voice recitingthat in my mind. Remembering the way she tried to console me, but I could feel it. The way she was aching to say I told you so. The way that after that she went back to reminding me time after time why men can’t be trusted, using Owen as the perfect example.

I groan, because everything with Rafael feels serious. Too serious. I’ve cried in front of him twice now. I’m walking a tightrope, and I don’t want to reach the end, I just want to throw myself off the edge.

I don’t do serious. Or do I now? My mind is spinning. I told him I don’t want to be alone forever, and even though it was something I said in the heat of the moment, I think it’s true. Now it’s my stomach that is spinning.

This is all too much too soon. I was supposed to be staying unattached, not allowing myself the chance to break both of our hearts. I need some fun, something different, someone who wants nothing more from me than what I want from them. I reach for my phone again, but this time I do something really stupid. I open Tinder.

When my mindwas swirling about my romantic situation in the bathtub earlier, I completely forgot that I had a shift at Marina’s tonight. By the time I had remembered, it was too late. I’d already organized to meet up with Dean.

Yes, that Dean.

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