Page 43

Chapter 42

He Wasn’t a Mafia Boyfriend

Jemma

“F or the last time, Jemma! We don’t care about the damned costume!” Esther’s tone was sharp, but her squeezy, tight hug was reassuring. “And don’t even think about having to deal with him to get it back. He sounds like a total dickhead, to be perfectly honest.”

I buried my nose into Luci’s soft fur. She nestled in closer to me. She’d been very snuggly since Saturday, as if she knew just how wrecked I was over it. Perhaps she was a bit wrecked herself. I mean, she clearly had some deep connection with Bub, and now, because of the stupid Hell Hound Daddy and his commitment issues, she’d had to go cold turkey, too.

Nope. I was not going to think about him. I was not going to dwell, or mope, or cry another single tear over him.

Famous last words … a rogue tear pooled in the corner of my eye, and when I blinked, it rolled into Luci’s fur.

Jules pressed a hot cup of tea into my hand, and I set Luci down to go sniff tentatively at Falcor.

“Why does everyone keep making me tea?” I asked, taking a sip and immediately bursting into tears.

Jules took the mug from me, placing it carefully on the counter and taking one of my hands in hers. “Oh, sweet girl, he really did a number on you, didn’t he? You get it all out. We’re here for you.”

I hiccupped, pressing my fingers into the corners of my eyes. Nope, that wasn’t going to stop this latest crying jag.

“It’s clove tea!” I sobbed, the smell still wafting to my nostrils. “He … he had a smell, like cloves, and a wood fire.”

“Exotic,” Esther muttered dryly.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset about it! We’d only known each other for a few weeks, but … there was something special there!” I sniffed, grabbing the tea and taking a swig. I wasn’t going to let stupid Satan Junior and his stupid exotic smell ruin this cup of tea … or the rest of my life.

“Was it love at first sight?” Jules asked quietly.

I snorted wetly. “It was ‘what a sexy jerk’ at first sight. But … then I got to know him, and … well, it hardly matters, because he showed his true colours, and apparently the dominant one was yellow-bellied commitment-phobe.”

“Well, more fool him, for letting you slip through his fingers,” Esther stood, slapping her thighs. “I’ve got a distraction for you! Want to see the photos we took on Friday? I think Jules has even mocked up a website and social media posts for Ferretcon!”

I swallowed. I wasn’t sure looking at myself in all that she-devil regalia would do anything but remind me of him, but I needed to stop wallowing. “Sure!” I winced at how unconvincingly enthusiastic I sounded, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Esther left, returning with a laptop that she opened with a flourish. “You’re one of the most photogenic people I’ve had the pleasure of photographing, Jemma.” She flicked open a slideshow, and my jaw dropped.

“That’s not … that’s definitely not me!” I exclaimed, staring at the sexpot who smirked sultrily on the screen.

“Sure is!” Esther crowed. “And these are raw images. Untouched. That’s just you and some quality studio lighting, Miss Bliss!” She tapped the keyboard, scrolling through image after image. “So, dry those tears, and hold your head high, knowing that loser gave up all of this because he was a scared wittle boy. And go find yourself a man who appreciates what a gorgeous, intelligent, funny badass you are.”

I grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. “Thank you, both of you. I … I really needed this. And also, Ezra needed a break from all the emo.”

Esther chuckled, patting me heartily on the back, while Jules added, “You know you can always come to us, for anything you need. We might be business partners, but … I’d be proud to call you a friend, too.”

“Stop! You’re going to make me cry all over again!” I blubbered, already crying all over again. “But at least these are happy tears.”

“We’re here for any kind of tears, Jemma,” Esther added, her tone void of her usual jovial lilt. “Now, we’ll see you at Lakeside again this weekend, won’t we?”

I nodded, sipping at the tea and hating that I didn’t hate the smell of it at all. Hating that even with everything he’d done, I didn’t hate him.

I couldn’t hate him. I loved the stupid coward.

But I loved myself more. And that, perhaps, was the most important thing this whole donut soul debacle had taught me.

* * *

By Thursday I’d managed to get up to date with every one of my online orders, as well as replenishing my market stock. Because every time my heart started to pang, I snatched up my crochet hook and yarn, and I furiously worked. Muscle memory took over when my eyes blurred too much to see properly.

I’d always done my best thinking when crocheting, and despite my fragile state … or perhaps because of it … I was thinking really hard.

“It doesn’t make sense!” I blurted, tying off a little Slytherin scarf for my new Draco Malfoy costume.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Ezra asked from the kitchen, biting into a banana.

“There’s no way he just had a change of heart down there in Hell. Something happened, and he … he decided it was better to break things off with me, than … I don’t know, my brain just keeps snagging on the fact that he wouldn’t have just done a total one-eighty for no reason!”

“Are you trying to make excuses for his shitty behaviour, Jem?” Ezra asked carefully, tossing the banana peel into the bin and heading to sit on the coffee table across from me.

“I’m not saying what he did was okay—it absolutely wasn’t—but what if …” I chewed on my lip. “What if he decided that breaking up with me was for my own safety? I mean, what if someone down in Hell took a bit too much of an interest in me after the scene we made in the ballroom, and … and he needed to distance himself from me, or …”

“Would it change the way you feel about him?”

“No …” Was there a hint of uncertainty in my tone? Better squash that quick smart for my own sanity. “ Definitely not—he should have come and explained what was going on, and we could have worked it out together. That’s what normal people do, right?”

Ezra shrugged. “I’m not sure that the Son of Satan would really understand how normal people do relationships, though.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you on his side now?”

“What?” Ezra’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, after watching you fall apart and then try to piece yourself back together for almost a week, that douche nozzle is never getting my seal of approval again! But, if you’re saying he’s done it out of some sense of wanting to protect you, then maybe it’s better you don’t know all the details? I mean, think of it this way, if you had a boyfriend, who was … I dunno, in the mafia or something, and there was some shit going down, and you might be in danger if he didn’t ghost you, you could sort of understand the motivation there, yeah? Doesn’t make him any less of a dick, or a bad choice for a boyfriend.”

“But he wasn’t a mafia boyfriend,” I muttered.

Ezra let out a whopping guffaw. “No, he’s not! He’s just the Crown Prince of Hell, and he put a piece of your soul into that bloody coin that you haven’t touched since you dropped it on the kitchen bench! I kind of think that’s worse than the mafia, don’t you?”

I swallowed, forcing the lump back down out of my throat. “Hey, you were the one who was all, ‘Oooh, you’re in love with him, you need to tell him, this could be your happy ever after!’”

Ezra’s cheeks pinked, but he stared me down. “Well, that was before he turned into a smirking limp dick right in front of my eyes. Sorry, bestie, but that cancels out all the rest. Even if he was faking the limp dickness out of some sort of chivalrous protective urge. He doesn’t deserve you, because if he did, he wouldn’t abandon ship the second things got a little hairy.”

“When you put it like that …”

“I do put it like that!” Ezra stood, smoothing his Bluey scrubs. “Now, I need to get to work, and you have three girls who will probably want to help you take your heartbreak out on the canvas, just like you ask them to.”

He pulled me to my feet. “Come on, we’ll carpool.”

I sniffed. “But how will you get home? I can’t sleep at the hospital waiting for your shift to finish!”

He shrugged. “I’ll Uber. Come on, Jem. Come and bitch to your little tweenyboppers about how men suck.”

“Except the gay best friend kind. They’re always awesome.” I wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled in.

“Naw, don’t you make me cry. I might not wear mascara, but with my complexion, my eyes will be red and swollen for a month!”

Arm in arm, we headed down the rickety stairs of our apartment building. When we reached the foyer, I tugged on Ezra’s arm.

“Have you checked the mail at all this week?” I asked.

He shook his head. I fumbled around in my pocket, grabbing out the keys and unlocking our mailbox. Several official-looking envelopes fluttered to the ground.

“Oh, yay! Bills,” I muttered sarcastically, stooping to pick them up. But one caught my eye. I handed the rest to Ezra, eyes locked on the logo on the top corner of the envelope.

“Uh … is that from the university?” Ezra asked, peering over my shoulder. “It’s probably just some alumni crap for me?—”

“It’s for me.” My hands were shaking. “Why would they be sending me a letter?”

Ezra nudged me towards the door. “I’m going to be late for work, but I’ll drive so you can open it in the car.”

My feet suddenly felt like lead as I trudged out behind him. Every time I thought about university, I could hear Professor Proctor like it was yesterday, ranting at me about laziness, and disorganisation, and lack of talent and creativity, and plagiarism, and lawsuits, and …

Ezra clicked my seatbelt on. “Open it. It’s not going to bite you.” He started the car, warm air blasting over me. With fingers that felt suddenly thick and unwieldy, I opened the envelope.

Dear Miss Bliss,

I would like to personally extend my most sincere apologies for the misunderstanding that resulted in the termination of your enrolment dated October 3 rd …

I blinked away from the paper, my entire body prickling. “You read it, Ez.”

He took the paper from me. “Dear Miss?—”

“Not out loud!’ I screeched. “Just … read it silently to yourself, and then give me the gist of it while you drive.”

I tucked my knees up to my chin and closed my eyes. And I didn’t move from that position the entire drive to the hospital. Not even when Ezra told me what the point of the letter was.

* * *

Was I having an out-of-body experience? It felt like my head was floating somewhere above me as I set up my art materials in the activity room. And it wasn’t a good out-of-body experience.

Or was it? I couldn’t work out how I was meant to feel about the apology or the offer that had been made to me.

How had Professor Proctor even found out the truth? That was where my brain had gotten stuck. The only people who knew about what had really happened back then were me, Ezra, Chad, and …

And SJ.

But no, SJ hadn’t known the name of the professor in question. Hadn’t even known which university I attended.

But he did know Chad.

Nope. There was no way in the world that SJ was involved in this. Maybe … maybe Chad had gotten so scared about what SJ had done to him that his guilty conscience got the better of him, and he tried to make amends, hoping that would somehow undo SJ’s soul-reaping?

No, that didn’t feel right, either. Chad didn’t have a conscience.

So then how …?

“Jemma!” three voices rang out from the doorway, and I turned, trying to force the confusion from my face as I turned to greet them.

“Hey, girls! How are you?” My eyes roved over Ellie, who looked pale and tired, but at least she was smiling.

“Good!” they chorused, the standard response I got from them. As we got started with the session, I’d get more out of each of them about how things really were.

“What do you feel like doing today?” I asked, gesturing to the various bits and pieces I’d set out around the room.

“I want to sit and talk. Maybe we could make some friendship bracelets?” Ellie asked, a spark of eagerness in her eyes. I nodded, not trusting my voice, settling myself down at the table and unclipping the lids on the beads and cutting some lengths of elastic for each of them.

“When will we get to see Simeon again?” Faith demanded as soon as she took her seat.

‘Who?” I asked, threading a pink bead onto my elastic.

“Jemma! Your boyfriend with the ferrets!”

I fumbled with the bead, and it clattered across the table, off the edge, and skittered to a stop against the beanbag in the reading corner. Gosh, I’d totally forgotten that silly fake name he’d given. That day felt like forever ago, but it had only been a few weeks.

“I … uh …” I stammered, putting my elastic down, then picking it up again. Better to keep my hands busy. Busy hands, quiet mind.

Nope. It wasn’t working. My lip trembled, my throat went dry. “We’re not together anymore,” I croaked, standing from the table and racing to the tissues, dabbing my eyes vigorously. But the tears were more vigorous than the poor, thin little scrap of tissue, and it was soaked within seconds.

“Aww, Jem.”

Three sets of arms came around my middle. Skinnier than they should have been from all the treatments they’d been through. But these three were tough—they had to be to keep a brave face with everything they dealt with.

They were so much tougher than I was.

“I’m really sorry. He seemed like the perfect guy for you,” Faith mumbled against my back, her hand gripping mine and squeezing.

“But if he’s made you this sad, he wasn’t the right one,” Ellie added.

Harper was silent, but she hugged me tight nonetheless. I turned in their arms, wrapping myself around them.

“Seeing you girls is the best thing in my week!” I blubbered, trying not to hug them too tight, because I’d seen how easily they bruised. “I … I’m going to be okay. It was … I thought he was pretty perfect, too, but …” I sucked in a breath. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be.”

I straightened, grabbing another tissue and wiping away the dampness on my cheeks. “And you know what? I actually should be celebrating! Because I got a letter today with some really good news!”

Their eyes widened with preteen wonder. “Oooh, what did it say?” Faith gushed.

I led them back to the table, picking up my beads. “Well … a long time ago, I had almost finished a degree in fine art. But … some stuff happened in my private life, and I dropped out. Today, I got a letter from one of my professors asking me to return to finish my degree. I was only one class away—so close!”

The girls looked politely happy for me. I suppose it wasn’t as exciting to them as I’d talked it up to be. In fact, I was still on the fence about the whole thing myself, but it had seemed like a good change of subject.

“Why’d you drop out with only one subject left?” Ellie asked, direct as always. “That seems a little … dumb …”

I giggled wetly. “You know, sometimes grown-ups make dumb choices, too. And I was only twenty-one when it happened. That’s still a baby, really.”

“No it’s not!” Faith scratched her head. “That’s so old !”

“Thank you very much, now I feel ancient at twenty-eight! You’ll be shipping me off to a nursing home before I know it!”

They looked suitably scandalised. “No way!” Ellie protested. “You’re the coolest therapist any of us get to see! Don’t get old, Jemma, please!”

I pressed my lips together. ‘Coolest therapist’ … that pipe dream that had been simmering in the back of my mind for years now … I could make that a reality. If I had a fine arts degree, I’d be able to do postgraduate studies, and become a legit art therapist. I could make money, helping kids like these three amazing girls, doing something that I loved, and that made me happy.

Whoever, or whatever, had made Professor Proctor send that letter … I was only just beginning to realise how much of a difference this could make to my life.

No more crying, Jemma!

I shrugged, forcing a grin onto my face. “Don’t you worry, I’ll still be bussin’ even when I’m ninety.”

The girls giggled, the way they always did when I threw in some odd slang word that I was never sure I was using correctly.

The rest of the session went smoothly, with chatter, and laughter, and a break from the reality of their lives … and a break from the shitshow that was mine.

After the girls had gone back to their rooms, and I was tidying up the activity room alone, I glanced up to find Sally standing in the doorway.

“Hello, Jemma. Ezra told me about you and Simeon. I’m so sorry! He was so … handsome, and … and chivalrous …” she sighed. “How are you feeling?”

I blew out a breath, amazed that apart from a slight tingle behind my eyes, I didn’t actually think I was in imminent danger of blubbering. “I’m doing okay, thanks, Sally.”

“I … perhaps I shouldn’t bring this up, it being fresh and all, but …” She pinched her top lip. “No. Maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

I was like a starving fish, snapping at the bait she’d laid out for me. “Bring what up?”

Sally gave a little half-smile, but the light in her eyes said she was loving every minute of this. She had gossip—Sally with gossip glowed like a department store Christmas tree.

“I ran into Simeon on Saturday evening on my way home from work. He looked … well, quite frankly, he looked haggard. So, whatever happened between the two of you, I’d wager that it’s hitting him just as hard as it has you, precious girl.”

My brain did a record scratch. “Uh … where exactly did you run into him?” I asked, my tone anything but the casual I’d been aiming for.

“I was walking home from the train station, a couple of blocks from the university. He looked like he hadn’t slept in about a month, and he seemed … confused. I mean, more so than a foreigner who doesn’t speak English as a first language should be, anyway.”

“By … by the university?” I could barely breathe. My ribs felt like they’d shrunk around my lungs.

“Yes, dear, my home is just near there. But he was acting very oddly. He kept asking about a letterbox. Only he called it something like … oh, what was it? A red receptacle. He’s quite adorable with his English, isn’t he? And he was very insistent that he personally had to be the one to post the letter, even though there is literally a letterbox outside my building.”

She tilted her head, regarding me thoughtfully. “Ezra also mentioned that you’d gotten some potentially life-changing news today … in the post.”

I tried to nod, but my neck wasn’t working. Nothing was working.

Sally took pity on me, leaning in to squeeze my arm. “Well. I’ll let you go, sweet. I’m sure you have much better things to be doing than nattering with an old sod like me on a Thursday evening!”

As she waltzed out, I could have sworn she was humming Two Become One .

“I need to get home!” I gasped, swiping the last of the beads into their container with a hand that shook, and stashing it all away. I burst out of the activity room, racing down the corridor blindly.

I was shivering by the time I got to the car, although it was a balmy evening for mid-September. My insides felt like they’d been put through a tumble dryer.

It had been SJ.

I was sure of it.

And I needed to talk to him. I wasn’t finished with him.

I needed to scream at him for being such a coward to my face … and such a hero behind my back. I needed to know why.

But first, I needed to work out how the Hell I felt about it.