“What aboutHarvey?”Iwhisper brokenly.
She smooths my mess of curls off my wet cheeks. “Oneday at a time.GiveMartina chance.Ifnot for me, for yourself.”
I hiccup, then nod. “Okay.”
A pointed nail prods me in the chest. “Andwho knows…maybe you have room in your heart for someone else.Perhapsa chef?”
I’ve got to hand it to her.Thewoman is smooth.
“We really are friends.”Iroll my eyes when she pouts. “Orwere.Isaid some horrible things to him…Itdoesn’t matter anyway.He’shere andIleave forNewYorksoon.”
“Long distance can work.Lookat your father and me.”Shepinches my cheek whenIdeadpan. “Leavethe sheets.Wecan do it.Youhave other things to do.”
I’m yanked to my feet. “Ido?”
With surprising strength, my mom leads me toward the front door before shoving my coat and scarf in my hands.She’slost it.
“Say goodbye to your daughter,Daniel,” she shouts through the apartment.
“Goodbye,Daughter,” my dad hollers, not questioning his wife’s motives.
“Are you kicking me out?”Iask, baffled.
“For the night.Ithink you owe someone an apology.”
I cursethe rickety planks asIcreep up the front steps.
I’m swaddled from head to toe like a woolly mammoth thanks to my mom.Itwas already late when my parents arrived.It’sonly now, standing on his doorstep,Icheck the time.
11:37 p.m.
No lights on.Nota peep from inside.Ahooded figure outside the window.
IfIwere the owner of this house,I’dcall the cops on myself.
What amIdoing?
He’s going to take one look at me and slam the door in my face.
With careful footsteps,Iabandon my mission.
I make it four steps.
The rattling of the door handle has me freezing like a deer in headlights.Thena gravelly voice rolls into the pitch-black evening. “I’vebeen listening to you march across my porch for the last ten minutes.I’mtired.Areyou coming or going,Silver?”
I slowly pivot on my heel and face him. “I’mnot sure.”
Booth flicks on the porch light, illuminating his handsome face.Hishair sticks up in all directions and he rubs a hand over his bare stomach.Heavywith sleep, his eyes track over my body. “Didyour folks show?”
Pitter-patter goes my pathetic heart. “Yeah.Yeah, they did.Thankyou for calling them.”
“What’s it going to be?It’scold,” he mutters gruffly.
The scratchy scarf around my neck is too tight suddenly.Iquickly unravel it and let out a breath before saying, “Icame to apologize.”
There isn’t a trace of emotion on his usually jovial face. “Idon’t want your apology.”
“Oh.Yeah, of course.”Iretreat another step. “Goback to sleep.Sorryfor disturbing you.”