Page 86 of Devil's Tulip

Panic flares. What if she doesn’t answer? Shit, shit, shit. Would I have to ask Gracie to get it for me instead? That would be so embarrassing, oh my God.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. Hi, Lira, this is Gianna–” I pause, then add awkwardly, “Michael’s wife. We met a few days ago at our wedding and then again this evening for dinner and–”

“Gianna! I know who you are.” Her soft laugh spills through the line. “I’m so glad to get your call, and so soon too. Did you want to thank me for coming to dinner?”

“Yes, that and I–” I bite my lip hesitantly, suddenly worried that it might be TMI if I just blurt it out. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”

“No, no, of course not. I’m awake. What’s up?”

I gulp. “I need your help.”

Silence. Then some rustling, followed by muffled conversation on her end. My stomach knots. Shit. Is she tellingher husband I’m on the phone and ridiculously demanding her help? Did I make the wrong decision?

“Hi, sorry about that. I was with Maximo, but I assume this is something sensitive, and you wouldn’t want him listening in. I’m in the bathroom now, so you can ask away. Did something happen?”

My heart is pounding erratically at this point, my fingers cold with nerves, but I decide to just rip off the bandage. What’s the worst that could happen? She says say no? Maybe tells her husband, who then tells Michael? He knows I wasn’t happy with him cumming in me, so he should be expecting me to do something like this.

“I need your help to get the plan B pill,” I blurt out.

“Oh,” she replies, and I can’t tell if it’s surprise or hesitation. “I–”

But I barrel on, stopping her before she can say no. “I’d go get it myself, but I have a situation with the people who hurt me a few days ago—if I leave, I might run into them, and I can’t risk getting hurt again. I don’t have any friends I can ask, and you did say to call you if I needed help, so–”

“Gia, Gianna, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I happen to have some at home with me and some extra birth control pills as well if you want.”

A dizzying rush of relief makes my knees buckle, and I collapse on the edge of my bed. “That would be great, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s really no problem. I get it. We’ve all been in your shoes once or twice. And don’t worry—Michael won’t know about this if you don’t want him to.”

“Really? You won’t tell your husband?” I ask, perking up.

“Well… no. We don’t keep secrets from each other. But Maximo is a big boy and doesn’t tell his friends everything. Heknows when to keep his mouth shut. I’ll be sure to drum it into his ears.”

I deflate a little. “Oh. Alright. Thank you.”

“I’ll be over soon. Make sure to have an excuse ready for Michael,” she says, then hangs up before I can tell her Michael isn’t home.

I sigh and drop back on the bed, studying the ceiling for a moment. At least, she’s coming with the pills I need.

Once I take them and get on birth control, it won’t matter if Michael keeps insisting on not using protection. A fraction of the anxiety in my belly dissolves.

I push myself up and go return Gracie’s phone, finding her exactly where I left her, though her expression now holds undisguised concern.

“Is everything alright?” she asks again, watching me closely.

I hesitate. I don’t want to lie to her. She’s been really nice to me. But at the end of the day, her loyalties belong entirely to Michael, which I don’t blame her for—I just can’t risk her saying something.

“Elira forgot her stuff with me, and I called to let her know,” I say lightly.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. “Alright. She’ll be here soon, I assume? Do you want me to prepare anything for her?”

“No, it’s not necessary, I–” I pause, considering. Would it be rude to just collect the pills and rush Elira out before Michael gets back? “…Maybe something light,” I correct myself. “Thank you.”

I offer Gracie a small smile, which she returns with a nod as she gets up from the chair. She removes her glasses, tucks them into their case, and places it atop her book before making her way towards the kitchen. I follow her, watching her work so Idon't succumb to the urge to hover anxiously by the window to check for Elira’s arrival.

Besides, I’ll need to approve her entrance through Synthia’s control panel since she can’t come inside the compound without me being aware—one of the few things I appreciate about Michael’s house. Unlike Uncle Aldo’s compound, there aren’t a dozen armed men loitering around with heavy weapons for protection.

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