Calvino was in a bad place before me—and I’m somehow helping him heal?
I find it hard to believe. When he’s not actively treating me like a burden, he’s teasing me, driving me insane, and getting me off. Maybe that’s healing for him, but for me it’s a little bit like playing tag with a rabid porcupine: if I win, I still get a bunch of spikes in my hand.
Except he did take me to Damon’s place when he didn’t need to, and he has been almost nice to me—almost, not quite, but almost. I want to believe what Diego’s saying, but I also don’t want this strange, twisting, hopeful feeling deep inside of my chest to keep blossoming.
Because the last time I let myself feel hope, my cousin ended up dead. Back then I thought Riley was going to make it as an actress and I’d move out to LA to live with her and we’d be happy forever—clearly that didn’t work out.
Just like it won’t with Calvino.
This is just a job. Only a job and nothing more.
Chapter 17
Grace
I sit by the windows in the apartment and stare out at the city as music plays softly from a hidden speaker. Kate Bush sings about yo-yos that glow in the dark and cloud busting, and I smile to myself as the music and words swirl around me. It’s strange how when all this started, this apartment felt like a foreign body, but now it’s starting to feel—comfortable. Almost home.
It helps that Calvino isn’t around to distract me and make things harder.
As I’m leaning back in the couch enjoying a rare day off, my phone starts to ring. I want to ignore it, but at the last second, I pull it from beneath the cushion and stare at Charlie’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“Grace.” Her voice sounds distant and tremulous like she’s holding back tears. “Can we meet up?”
“Are you okay?”
“Everything’s fine, but I really need to talk to someone, and there’s nobody here I trust.”
I hesitate, not sure how I feel about her trusting me. That’s the point of this, isn’t it? But I feel terrible anyway.
“Okay, sure, let’s meet up. Text me a place.”
“Leave now if you can. See you soon.”
I get a message with an address for a coffee shop not far from the apartment, so I throw on some clothes and hurry out. I have to walk since Calvino’s not around to get me a driver or to drive me himself, and it takes me about fifteen minutes to reach the shop. It’s not crowded and I find Charlie sitting in the very back with Emilio watching cartoons on a tablet in her lap. She has a cup of tea in front of her and a half-eaten scone on a plate strewn with crumbs.
“Grace,” she says and I sink down into the chair opposite. Bags sit heavy under her eyes and she looks like she’s been crying: the whites are dappled red.
Emilio grins at me and I smile back, but he keeps his attention on the tablet.
“What’s going on?” I ask and feel my stomach tremble. I want to ask if it’s Vincent, if he hit her or did something to her, but I get the feeling that kind of question wouldn’t be welcome, not in this family at least. I have to approach this sideways and figure out what’s going on in small pieces like putting together a puzzle.
But I know something about a woman in trouble. I spent my whole life in trouble, and my mom was constantly in trouble, and Riley was in trouble—and it killed her in the end—and Charlie’s got that twitchy terrified look of a woman who’s afraid to go back home. I don’t know what to do and I feel a sick wave of self-loathing for all of this, for getting involved in this poor girl’s life with the intent to deceive her for Calvino’s own selfish gain, but I’m too far gone to turn back now, too damn far.
“I feel almost silly calling you here.” She kisses Emilio’s head and he beams up at his mom before looking back at the tablet. “It’s just that at the Sandtrap, you can’t talk there, you know what I mean?”
I shrug a little. “I guess so. It’s always so full of staff.”
“Exactly, the staff. Lots of ears around.” She’s looking at me so intently and I suddenly realize she’s trying to tell me something.
Is the Sandtrap bugged? Would Vincent bug his own house so he could monitor his family?
“Did something bad happen?”
“Just a fight with Vincent. You’ll think it’s so petty.”
“Tell me what happened.” I’m disgusted with myself, but at the least I can listen to her, because sometimes just talking out loud with a neutral third party can make all the difference.
“It’s about Emilio. See, we haven’t actually decided what his last name’s going to be. I left it off on the birth certificate and I need to file an amendment to fix it soon before some deadline, I don’t know, the lawyers are dealing with it, but Vincent wants Emilio to take the Manzini name, and I don’t want that.”