Page 21 of Boyfriend of the Hour
Frankie, whose husband was one of the “rich-ass” ones, shook her head in that quiet, sweet way while she set a hand atop her pregnant belly. “I’m sorry, babe, but you know the townhouse is under construction until after the baby is born. The whole place will be covered in dust and workers.”
A glance at Kate told me she wasn’t willing to put me up either. “My studio barely has room for my bed, let alone an extra mattress. I really wish it could be different.”
I turned to Lea, who was already shaking her head. “Mike would kill me. Our house is too cramped as it is with four kids. He already spends half his nights on the couch when Lupe can’t sleep.”
I flopped back in my chair. This couldn’t be happening. It was almost like theyplannedit this way.
“Look,” Frankie offered as she pulled at her ponytail. “Xavier and I can totally give you a deposit?—”
“It’s fine. I don’t need it.”
“Don’t be a stubborn donkey.” Lea dumped my old high school notebooks into a trash bag. “But I don’t think she would get approved for a lease anyway.”
I stared at my feet. Hating that she was right. Who was going to give a lease to a part-time bartender barely scraping minimum wage?
Really, it was the questions no one was asking that bothered me most. Why couldn’t I get my shit together? Why couldn’t I manage something as basic as rent or a job that required more than a few nights a week? Responsibilities, bank accounts, all the things adults were supposed to handle?
I tried. I really did. But every time I approached the mountain of things I was supposed to do every day, every week, every month, they all seemed so impossible. The world felt heavy and exhausting and fucking unbearable.
So, I’d ignore them for another day in favor of scrolling on my phone or sending memes to my friends. And the mountain grew. And grew. And grew.
Fuck.
I grabbed another cookie. Right now, they were the only things that seemed to help.
Unfortunately, when I looked around the room again, my problems were still reflected in the expressions that said the same thing: poor, sad, stupid Joni.
Just like they had my entire life.
I swallowed the cookie and scowled. “I said I can take care of myself, and I will.”
“Oh, please.” Lea’s sarcasm cut through the room. “When have you ever had to do anything for yourself? Every single one of us took turns making your lunches and tying your shoes until you were more than old enough to do all of it. You haveneverhad to lift a finger. You have no clue what it’s like to take care of anyone else, much less yourself, for once.”
“Lea!” Frankie hissed. “That isnothelping.”
“Well, it’s the truth. And she needs a reality check. That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”
“Don’t hate on me just because you chose a life of perpetual housekeeping and four snot-nosed brats,” I snapped at her.
“Don’tyoube a brat just because your life is empty while the rest of us have gotten our shit together,” Lea retorted. “Grow the hell up and learn to think of more than just yourself.”
“Lea!” Frankie tried again, to absolutely no avail.
“Christ,” Kate muttered.
“I think of things plenty,” I bit out, if only to stop my voice from shaking. “Who brings Nonna boxes of her favorite nougat from Gino’s on Mother’s Day, huh? And who takes her to her doctor’s appointments? Or does her nails and helps her do her hair in the mornings and watches old movies with her whenever she wants?”
“You do,civetta.”
We all turned to find Nonna entering the room, her face lined with sadness.
My grandmother had been a beauty in her youth—a dead ringer for Sophia Loren. Now, there wasn’t much of a difference beyond some fine lines, the fact that her black hair was now dyed that way, and the way age had rendered her a bit more petite. At seventy-eight, she still had a whole life to live. Starting tomorrow.
I would have been happy for her if it weren’t costing me everything.
“It’s true,” she said as her Italian accent, normally softened by more than sixty years in New York, thickened with emotion. “You can be a very kind girl when you want. Joni isn’t always the baby. Not anymore.”
“Just sometimes, then?” Lea and I traded glares, though her tone was admittedly less, well, bitchy.
