Page 13 of Until You Can't

“We’re fine. I’m fine.” Maria waved a dismissive hand. “Forget what I said.” She pointed to the door and rattled off my “date” instructions.

“The last thing I want to do tonight is go on a date,” I told my sister, wishing I had a reason to smile. But there were too many bills. Too much to worry about. And now I had to wonder if my little sister was okay on top of it all.

I looked down at Chiara, and she was giggling for no reason. Hoping to prolong the amazing sound of innocence, I reached over and tickled her stomach.

“Too bad.” Maria kissed Chiara’s dark, curly-haired head and told her goodnight, ignoring me. “Anthony has been globe-trotting with French models, and I can’t even get you to have sex with a doctor. I don’t know what to say.”

“French models?”

Maria hung her head. “Did I say that?”

“Tell me you don’t still keep tabs on the guy on Instagram because I don’t care if he turned into some playboy.” The last I heard, he’d retired from the league because of too many injuries. But surely, the guy was set for life regarding money.

“I may have peeked at his Insta. He hasn’t posted a story in a week or so. But he was in Monaco with some model.” She bit her lip, trying to play innocent with me. “Don’t let that get you down, though.”

“I’ve been over Anthony for a long time.”

Maria opened her arms, palms to the ceiling. “Well, you might be single, which makes Mom insane, but you’re a career woman. Not everyone has to get married at our age. Or hell, at all.”

“Right, I don’t need a husband.” I forced myself to smile. Probably my hundredth fake one that week. “I just need sex.”

CHAPTER THREE

NATALIA

“Not again. Shit, shit, shit.” I held the steering wheel tight with one hand while changing gears with the other as the dreaded Jeep death wobble kicked in.

I knew the route to my parents’ like the back of my hand, but I’d been distracted and forgot about “Aggie’s Doom”—the pothole I’d named after one of our annoying neighbors, who everyone did their best to avoid when on walks.

“Sorry, sweet girl, language, I know. But your mom isn’t here, and you don’t know what I’m saying, right, Miss Chiara?”

The steering wheel continued to shake violently, and I did my best to course correct and keep the Jeep from veering into a ditch.

I was still trying to learn how to handle the 1990 Jeep I’d bought after selling my 2015 Jeep Rubicon last week. Our relationship was a work in progress, and right now, she hated me. So much so that it seemed she wanted to toss me from the vehicle.

Chiara only giggled as if the jerky-jarring sensations were amusing.

“Almost to Nonna’s,” I said, trying not to sound alarmed that the Jeep was still cranky as hell. I’d yet to name her. I didn’t want to grow attached to a vehicle that felt like she was on her “last wheel” and heading to car heaven soon.

When a sputtering noise interrupted my thoughts and the Jeep started to slow, I realized tonight might be her last night. “Just two more minutes. Come on.” My parents’ neighborhood was practically within sight.

I could nearly hear the Jeep moan, Sorry, I’m too old for this shit, as the check engine light came on. I was in the process of pulling over when she died on me.

But could I resuscitate her? That was another question.

I rummaged through my bag on the passenger seat in search of my iPhone. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

I thought back to the moment I’d slid the bills into my desk drawer, remembering my phone had been beneath the stack of mail. And now my phone’s in that drawer at the restaurant five minutes away. Just great.

“Welllll, hell.” I twisted in my seat to check on Chiara, discovering her eyes shut and her little chest lifting and falling from small breaths.

Had the bumps put her to sleep?

“I’ll be right back. I promise,” I whispered, unsure what I planned to do. Flag someone down to help? The guy would turn out to be a serial killer with my luck tonight.

My parents lived in a relatively safe area, but could I walk the rest of the way with Chiara in my arms? Probably not.

I unbuckled and exited the Jeep, keeping the door cracked open. “Okayyy,” I said once finding the latch to pop the hood.

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