Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I dial Sergio again. It goes to voicemail.
What would Marialena do? She's back in Florida with her husband, but Quinn's in town.
I hit the button and dial Quinn.
The phone rings, and I try to think of what I'm going to say. It rings and rings and goes to voicemail.
I feel sick to my stomach, unsure of what's happening. I want to ask someone for advice. But then I realize… There's no one to ask. It's just me, and always has been… just me.
Maybe it was a lie that I belonged in this family. Maybe it was all just in my head…
I try to tell myself it's early, everyone's asleep. Maybe they'll call me later. Maybe I don't need someone else to help me make this decision. What decision am I even trying to make?
For once in my life, I wish I knew the answer. I wish my mind wasn't so muddled, as if I don't know what’s right or wrong. I don't know what's coming next. And it leaves me more than a little uneasy.
I sit down on the curb. I remember how I almost got hit by a car before I got on the bus, way back when, before I ever came to Boston. Even this early in the morning, Boston city traffic is thick, horns blaring and people yelling at each other.
I take in a deep breath, and I let it out slowly. Daisy licks my hand. I give her a little pat and a scratch behind her ears. "No matter what happens, you're coming with me."
I stand up, and I go back to the club. Feed Daisy. Brush my hair. It’s boring and mundane and doesn’t distract me at all from thoughts of Sergio.
It's lunchtime when I finally look up from my work. I haven't put my phone back on because I like how it feels not being at the beck and call of anyone. And if I'm really honest, I'm a little miffed that nobody answered my call, and that Sergio didn't tell me where he was going.
Flo comes in, her arms laden with groceries.
"Oh, my God, you would not believe what they have at the food pantry."
It's kind of like this ongoing joke that she raids the food pantry as soon as they stock it. There are lots of food pantries in Boston, and Flo is definitely not someone who needs money to buy food. But she'll never pass up a freebie, so she's the first one in line.
I'm half listening as she unloads her wares onto the table and starts stocking the kitchen. I don't know why she's not bringing food into her own house, but Sergio says this is almost a second home.
"Hey, babe, are you listening?" She looks back at me, eyebrows furrowed. "Eden, are you okay?"
I don't know what to tell her. I’m opening my mouth to speak when the back door to the kitchen opens and Gino stalks in. "Eden, you have to go to your room. Right now."
Flo and I stare at him. What?
He doesn't have the authority to tell me what to do. No one does.
"I have work to do, Gino.”
"Girl, I'm telling you, it's the right thing to do. Go to your room and don't come out till I call you."
Who does this guy think he is?
Flo stares at him. "What happened?"
He looks over his shoulder. "Eden, go!"
I've never sworn at anyone in my life, but I've never been more tempted. "You don't tell me what to do. No one tells me what to do."
Doors open from the club, and one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen walks in. She's a few inches taller than I am, tanned, and stunning. Marialena is beautiful, but this woman looks like a model. Her top is cut low, all the way down to her navel. Long, glossy hair hangs down her back and swings as if she just stepped out of the salon.
I stare at her, trying to figure out who she is. She looks around the kitchen and shakes her head. "Can I help you?"
"So is this the little kitchen that will be preparing the food for my wedding?"
Little kitchen. Wedding.
There it is again, someone's getting married.
Flo looks at me. Her face pales beneath her makeup, and she says in a low voice, “I think you should go to your room like Gino said, Eden." Oh, no, she doesn't.
“I’m here to scope things out for the wedding,” the bride says with a haughty look.
"Wedding. Who's wedding?"
She gives me a withering look, peering down her long, thin nose at me. “Are you the kitchen staff?"
Flo looks like she's going to be sick. "Eden, go. Gino’s right."
But I’m still stuck on kitchen staff.
Yes, I’m the kitchen staff. That's all I am.
"I am. Who are you?"
She puts her hands on her hips and holds her head up high, giving me a look that makes me feel like I'm two inches tall.