Page 89 of Heartfelt Pain
It would’ve worked better if it were the only advice I’d received and not Abe and Russ’s lambast of all the mistakes I’m making lately.
I’m left thinking as the shadows in the living room move with the sun.
In a few minutes, I’ll need to put my clothes back on. I’ll stuff my feet back into my heels. I’ll fix my makeup and deal with Trevino’s grumpiness when I tell him Isolde is catching a ride with us. He’ll probably lecture us too, about the weed.
I have four more meetings today and then eight tomorrow plus a call with my accountant. I’m booked solid every day this week and I’m doing a favor for one of my oldest clients by meeting with them on Saturday morning.
When I took over after Aunt Macy, I chugged along until I gained more steam. And then I sped on and on.
The train is in forward motion and if you’d asked me last week I’d say I didn’t want to getoff.
But now I’m wondering, how fast is too fast? How long is too long to keep up the momentum?
Am I going to crash and burn like all my friends are worried about?
Or can I keep fanning out the flames and walking through fire like I’ve done for the past five years?
CHAPTER 20
Roma
My frustration at Ren comes in two waves.
The first is when Nat texts me to say she spotted Ren with my mother at lunch today. When I messaged Ren what did I get? Left on read.
I gave her hours to reply and I heard nothing.
Naturally, that wouldn’t do so I headed to her place. The doorman stopped me.
“You’re not on the list.”
My teeth ground together. I’d have headed up anyway if it weren’t for Trevino stepping off the elevators.
“You’ve been taken off the guest list,” he said without an ounce of apology. He did, though, eye up my closed fists.
The seething, whirling fury of the beast inside demanded a fight. But then the image of Ren, standing in her living room in a robe, her eyes red, gave me pause.
I’ll give her space. Tonight at least. Then she’ll find out what Trevino’s body will look like after I dump him in the harbor if she tries to keep me out again.
That doesn’t mean I’m not ready for a fighttonight, though.
A highlight reel of the Yankees plays in the kitchen. Dad wipes mustard off his mouth. “Roman, my dear son. This is three times I’ve seen you in my house in a two week time period. What an honor.”
“Where’s Mom?” One foot is already on the bottom stair when she appears.
It’s nearly ten o’clock at night and she’s still got a pair of heels on. I can’t remember the last time I saw her with her hair down. The blonde strands curl slightly and her blue eyes remain unblinking as she comes down the stairs, holding onto the railing.
“I thought you were in bed,”Dad says in Russian.
She cuts in front of the small TV and reaches over to hand Dad a napkin.
He wipes off his lips while holding his sandwich in one hand.
She brushes a hand over my cheek, but I duck. Her hand remains hanging in the air before she slowly lowers it.
“You went to lunch today with Ren.”
“Huh?” Dad chokes on his sandwich. A glob of mayonnaise splatters onto his plate. “What?”
