Page 69 of Ms. Lead

“Sorry about that. I forgot I left the TV on when I was in here for lunch earlier.” The sound of Oliver’s voice is gone and replaced by that of Noah, our head mechanic. I turn and see his face reddening as he stands next to the TV. It’s either an odd coincidence, or he must have recognized Oliver on the television and wanted to shield me from it.

“Thanks, Noah. I appreciate it.” I force a small smile since that’s the best I can do now and go back to retrieve my coffee.

Everyone has been doing their best to try to cheer me up and distract me, but sometimes you just want to feel sad. So, this is extending for an abnormally long time. It’s going to be okay.

Eventually.

Once February is in the rearview mirror, I’ll be able to start healing. Right now, I’m still being hurt every day and will be until the 21st passes. I just have to endure until then.

There are moments where I let myself believe that he’ll be here on the 21st. I dream he’ll apologize and profess his undying love for me, but then my alarm usually wakes me up and brings me back to reality. I also need to remember that I won’t even be here on that date. I’ll still be in Italy.

That evening, when I’m eating my takeout dinner on my couch, it dawns on me that Oliver was being interviewed on TV. He was also talking about being a monster? Is that right? My memory is sketchy since I was so surprised to hear his voice.

I’ve sworn that I wouldn’t look him up on the internet. It will only make things worse for me. I compromise with myself. I won’t do a full-blown search because that is the most bottomless rabbit hole in the world, and I don’t want to jump into it if I want to maintain what shreds of sanity I have left.

Grabbing my phone, I find his author website. Seeing the picture of him on the home page wearing what he calls his “publicity smile” makes me long to see his genuine smile in person something fierce.

I have to admit, though, he does look damn good. He seems more vibrant or something. I can’t put my finger on it, but it yanks at me, twisting me up inside. I’m so happy to see it, and tears sting my eyes as I think of him feeling well, rested, and relaxed. I don’t think I ever saw him like that, and I feel a strange comfort in knowing he’s taking good care of himself.

Maybe he met someone else, and it’s done him a world of good. As much as that would hurt me even more, I would be so relieved to know that he would be okay.

Clicking through his site, I see that his book about Las Vegas organized crime was released. That was quick. More good news for him.

There’s also a link to his book tour dates, so of course, I have to check that out. Maybe that’s why he was being interviewed.

Scanning the dates and locations of his tour, my heart skips and then sinks. He’s not coming to Las Vegas. He’s going straight from Colorado to Arizona. That doesn’t make any sense. The book he’s promoting is about Vegas. How could he not stop here?

Wow. He wants to avoid me so much that he completely skips over the city the book is about. What the hell? I can’t believe his agent or publicist would let that happen. Maybe they have other events that aren’t listed here? I don’t know. I know nothing about the book world.

If my heart wasn’t already broken, it shatters completely when I see that not only is he skipping Las Vegas, he’s cutting everything in the middle of February. Of course. He would want to make sure that I couldn’t find him on the 21st. How better to do that than not being findable at all on that date?

The tears that nearly appeared when I was happy to see him healthy and well, now shift their attention to my utter destruction. I can handle this. I can be devastated and happy for him simultaneously, right? I’m a complex enough individual for that kind of thing?

That could be, but right this second, I want to be the selfish bitch that feels sorry for herself for once. I want to let myself feel that despair and dwell in it for a minute. Just a minute. I don’t want to stay this way.

My phone rings and I have to start laughing, but it sounds like choking to my ears. I glance at the screen that has switched from the usual photo of Oliver at the Grand Canyon to my brother being goofy, but I’d know who it is without looking.

Of course, Enzo would be calling right this second. This universe we’re all traversing on this spinning globe sure can be downright scary.

I pull myself together. Or, at least, try to.

“Hey, brother. I’ll be fine.” I try to cut him off at the pass to keep this as short as possible. I don’t want to drag him down with me. Not when he’s got such a great thing with Theresa going.

“Of course, you will be. You’re a Torino. In the meantime, I will drag every little thing that makes you doubt that out of you.”

I sigh deeply and loudly. “Really, I mean it. I will be fine. You know we’ll have to get to a point where you don’t do this all the time, right?”

He gasps, and I can’t tell if he’s joking. “Why wouldn’t I use my superpower? It was given to me for a reason.”

I still can’t tell if he’s playing around, but we do need to address this.

“Enzo. We have been adults for a while now, and you have your own life. You don’t need to be fixing me all the time.”

“But if I don’t, who will?” He asks this honestly, but the words cut through me, making me feel even more alone than before he called.

I clear my throat and make sure my voice is steady when I answer. “I will. I’ll see you in Italy,” I say, and I hang up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

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