Page 16 of Ready or Not (The Nape #I)

“Mimi,” Alexandra chimed in, her motherly tone shining through. “Let her?—”

“Nah,” Naomi cut Alexandra off with a wave of her hand. “Nah, Allie. If we keep coddling her, she’s just gonna keep pulling this shit. Sol needs to hear it straight for once, and your way of handling things isn’t doing what it needs to do right now.”

Alexandra released a breath like she was ready to start cursing. “Naomi, don’t–”

“I oop!” Elizabeth took another long sip from her iced coffee, her eyes flicking between the three of us like she was watching an episode of Bad Girls Club.

"This is getting good," she muttered under her breath, which earned her a glare from Alexandra, which Elizabeth responded with an exaggerated shrug before raising her cup in mock surrender.

“Can I speak now?” Naomi turned her attention to Alexandra who was looking at her like she would smack the shit out of her.

Sighing, Alexandra pinched the bridge of her nose before giving Naomi a begrudging nod.

“Watch your words, though. I know I want Sol to move on and find the love she deserves, like we all do, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to bulldoze her into oblivion with your ‘tough love’ nonsense. Some things require patience.”

“Patience, I don’t have anymore soooooo,” Naomi’s death stare bore into the screen as she stared at me.

“Sol, what was so terrifying this morning that you couldn’t even stick around for a conversation?

Hmm? The man dicked you down so good. He was attentive to your needs, he was observant—shit…

he was everything you’ve always wanted in a man and he wanted y’all to talk things out when you weren't tired. Why couldn’t you stick around to ask why he folded your clothes like a goddamn housekeeper? ”

“Jesus….” Alexandra dragged her hand across her face. “I said no bulldozing.”

“I’m asking the right questions,” Naomi shrugged, turning back to me. “Sol, answer the questions. Cause why couldn’t you wait to ask him anything instead of making up a story in your head and bolting? I never knew you to be this scary, so what is it?”

The pause stretched thick between us.

Even Elizabeth, who normally would’ve taken the chance to add some snarky commentary, stayed silent as she watched me squirm under Naomi’s unyielding gaze.

“I…” I hesitated, the memory of waking up in that soft bed washing over me like a tide I wasn’t ready to relive. “It wasn’t—he wasn’t there, okay? The bed next to me was empty. And then there were these...clothes all folded like… It just felt off.”

Naomi scoffed. “So you decided to run without getting answers because that’s easier than risking—what? Actually hearing something that might challenge the subtle narrative you’ve already written in your head? Come on, Sol. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

I inhaled sharply, gripping the edge of my dresser until my knuckles blanched.

The subtle narrative you’ve already written…

Naomi wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part of it all.

She knew me too well.

They all did, and no matter how much I tried to twist or deflect, I couldn’t escape the unnerving truth: I had done it again.

I convinced myself I understood the entire situation when, in reality, I’d run before anything could challenge the illusion.

That’s what I did with Andrew whenever he cheated, which led to our breaks .

I built this perfect little story in my head where I was unbothered, where it didn’t matter because I had already won by not letting him see me crack.

But Naomi was right—I wasn’t unbothered.

I was shattered, but instead of standing firm and demanding answers, I let the cracks grow until everything broke beyond repair.

And now, here I was again.

Same broken pieces, different man.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to get hurt again,” I finally muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Maybe it’s easier to assume the worst than to...”

“...be vulnerable,” Alexandra finished, her eyes kind but filled with that gentle, motherly look she always seemed to have.

“I get it now. You’re protecting yourself.

I really get it because I do it too sometimes.

But… running doesn't actually protect you from anything—it just postpones the inevitable, and I don’t want you to repeat the cycle you’ve worked so hard to break out of. ”

Elizabeth set her coffee down with a clink, tilting her head slightly as she spoke up for the first time in a while.

“Look, I understand that it’s scary, but you can’t just keep running every time something feels off.

You kept telling my ass not to run when things started off weird between my man and I…

So why aren’t you taking your own advice?

Weren’t you the same person who said everything suspicious isn’t a red flag waiting to slap you in the face ? ”

I let out a shaky laugh, but it faded quickly as their words settled into my chest.

Vulnerability wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was terrifying. It was a wide-open door begging for heartache, waltzing right in and wrecking me all over again.

To know that Desi had the power to break me scared me more than I'd ever admit to them. I could still feel the ghost of his arms around me, the warmth of his chest against my back as he'd held me. For one night, I’d let my guard down, and the weight of that realization was suffocating.

“Do you honestly believe he would’ve hurt you after what you told us about him?” Alexandra’s question was gentle, yet it wrapped itself firmly around my fraying thoughts. Her dark eyes searched mine through the screen, and I hated how easily her words found the parts of me I wanted to hide.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, pretending to adjust my sports bra as if fidgeting with fabric could distract me from the truth.

“Did he even say or do anything that felt off last night? Anything that would make you think he’s some kind of psycho, folding your clothes as his goodbye message?”

“But that’s the thing, Allie,” my voice cracked as my words came out faster than I intended.

“It was so… perfect. Too perfect. Like something out of a stupid rom-com where everything falls apart in Act Three because it was never real to begin with. I mean, who does that? Who folds someone’s clothes and lets them sleep in without a care in the world?

Especially after what we…” I trailed off, feeling my cheeks heat as flashes of last night threatened to overwhelm me.

“You’re overthinking it,” Naomi exhaled so heavily I could practically feel it through the phone.

“You can’t live your whole life planning for a worst-case scenario that might never happen.

You think perfect can’t be real. That if something feels good, it must be fake or fleeting.

News flash: not everyone is out here trying to play you, Sol. ”

“Okay, but… am I crazy for thinking folded clothes are weird?” I asked almost desperately, trying to redirect their barrage of truths.

Naomi groaned loud enough to nearly blow out my phone speaker. "Sol—if this is about some damn laundry?—"

“Hold on, Mimi,” Alexandra cut her off gently, raising a hand like she was mediating a debate. “The clothes are...admittedly odd. I'll give her that, and her feelings are valid on the clothes.”

“Thank you,” I said quickly, clinging to Alexandra’s lifeline like it was the last shred of sanity in this conversation. “See? It’s not just me.”

Naomi rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of her head. “Oh, for crying out loud—Lex, don’t encourage this nonsense.”

“I’m not encouraging it, but I’m validating her feelings,” Alexandra interjected with a calm but firm tone, always the peacemaker of the group. “Sure, Sol overreacted—again—but-”

“There’s no buts,” Naomi interjected, her voice sharp and unwavering. “This isn’t about folded clothes. It’s not even about him disappearing before breakfast. This is about Sol running from anything that remotely smells like emotional risk.”

I squirmed under the weight of Naomi's words but didn’t dare speak.

She wasn’t wrong, even if I hated the way it sounded when she said it out loud.

“Here’s the thing,” she continued, softening slightly as she leaned closer to the camera.

“You are allowed to be scared, Sol. We’ve all been there, so you know we get it.

Trusting someone new? That’s terrifying after everything you’ve been through.

But fear can’t be your compass forever. At some point, you’ve gotta sit with the uncomfortable and at least try to work through it. ”

“So what should I do?” I asked, my voice small. It felt like a concession, an admission of defeat, but also—maybe—a tiny crack in the armor I'd built around myself.

“Text him,” Elizabeth said immediately, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, then frowned. “Shit… you don’t have his number…”

“Oh lord,” Alexandra winced. “That does complicate things a bit.”

Naomi threw her hands up in exasperation, pacing across her screen like she was on a stage giving some grand speech. “Of course, she doesn’t have his number. Great. Alright, fine. I’ll hit up T to see if he can give me his number. You said they were friends, right?”

I nodded.

“Perfect. I’m texting him now,” Naomi already started tapping furiously on her phone.

“Wait, wait!” I protested, holding up my hands as if that could stop her through the screen. “Mimi, don’t! That’s so—so embarrassing.”

She stopped mid-scroll to glare at me. “Embarrassing? What’s embarrassing is you running out of there like a chicken with no head and not doing anything about it for hours. This—” she gestured dramatically at the screen—" is called damage control.”

“I don’t know if I want to?—”

“Too late,” she interrupted, tapping her screen with finality. “Message sent. Now we wait and pray to God answers my text. You lucky I’m not letting you wallow in your own mess.”

A groan escaped my lips as I flopped back onto my bed. “This is why I don’t tell you guys things.”

“Please,” Elizabeth said with a smirk, crossing one leg over the other on her dark brown office couch. “Who else would keep you accountable? That’s what we’re here for.”

“To be fair,” Alexandra added gently, “You needed someone to push you. Be lucky Mimi didn’t do the usual and chose a sane route like texting T for Desi’s number.”

“Fine,” I pouted, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of their well-meaning intervention pressing down on me. “But if this all goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you guys.”

“Blame away,” Naomi said breezily, holding her phone up to admire her freshly manicured nails. “As long as you actually grow a backbone out of this, I’ll take the hit every time. Besides, you’re not gonna regret talking to him—you’re just afraid of what he might say.”

“Or what he might not say,” Elizabeth added pointedly. “There’s always that possibility, too.”

“Liz!” Alexandra groaned, shooting her a disapproving glare through the camera.

“What? I’m just keeping it real like Mimi did!” Elizabeth replied with a shrug and an unapologetic sip of her coffee. “We all got our reasons for fighting for Sol to fix this.”

I sighed, my shoulder slumping as I felt the weight of their words settle over me.

“I gotta get dressed for pilates,” I muttered, mostly to escape the suffocating intensity of their intervention. “I’ll call you guys later.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You better not ghost us, Sol. We’re in this now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off, standing up to stretch. My joints cracked audibly, and I grimaced, rubbing the soreness out of my shoulders. “I’ll text you.”

“You better,” she shot back, wagging a perfectly manicured finger at the screen before disconnecting the FaceTime call with dramatic flair. Elizabeth and Alexandra muttered their goodbyes as the screen went dark.

For a moment, the room was silent—save for the gentle humming of my overhead fan.

My chest felt heavy, like their words were coiled there, refusing to leave me even after the conversation ended.

The folded clothes flashed through my mind again—the neat creases, the precise corners—and the way they’d filled me with that gnawing sense of unease.

Maybe it wasn’t about the clothes; Naomi was probably right about that much.

But it felt like it was about them.

They represented something bigger—a shift I wasn’t ready to confront.

And eventually… I’d have to because I liked Desiderio.

A lot.