Page 73 of Ruin

28

Tommy

By the time I unlock the door, it’s after 4 am. I’ve been running on fumes for 48 hours—lectures, briefs, and a string of jobs my father insisted on—and my whole body hurts as I drag myself inside.

The condo smells like cold coffee and lavender. One lamp is on in the living room, casting long shadows.

Gi sits on the couch in a faded crop top and sleep shorts, one knee tucked under her. Her hair is piled on her head, bags under her eyes, face streaked with tears. Her phone is in her lap, and she doesn’t look up from it when I come in.

“Baby?” I kneel in front of her, brushing the tears off her face. “What happened? Why are you up?”

She stares at me, her voice flat. “Where were you?”

“I was working, Gi. I told you.”

She holds up her phone, showing me a chain of unread messages: ranting paragraphs mixed in with short ones, times stamped and stacked up. “I texted you. A lot.”

I drop my chin to my chest and sit heavily next to her on the couch. I try to pull her into my lap the way I always do,but she stiffens, and I let her go. “I have to turn my phone off for jobs sometimes. You know that.”

She gets up without answering, walks back to the bedroom, and I stay on the couch, not sure if I should follow. A loud crash detonates from the en suite bathroom, broken ceramic and glass skittering across the tile floor, and adrenaline shoots through me as I tear across the condo.

Giovanna is collapsed on the floor amid broken compacts and scattered brushes, her breathing ragged, chest heaving.

“Hey…sweet girl…” I kick some of the mess out of the way, glass crunching under my feet as I walk through it to get to her. “Reach for me, Gi.”

Instead, she buries her face in her hands, sobbing, but I pick her up anyway and carry her to bed. When I lay her down, she turns away from me, crying into the pillows.

“Two days, Tommy! I thought you were dead.”

Something in my chest twists, a combination of guilt and irritation. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Gi. I had to work.”

She pushes the pillows away and sits up, eyes bright with tears, her voice sharp. “Why? You’re almost done with school. You could be a lawyer. Why are you still doing your father’s bullshit?”

I suppress a groan. Does she really not get this? “It’s not exactly a job you quit.”

She laughs, a fake, brittle sound, her eyes flashing angrily. “Fine. You did nothing wrong. Go to sleep.” She yanks the covers up and buries her face again.

“Giovanna. There’s nothing I could have done differently. This is just how it is sometimes.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, so I kick off my boots and slide under the covers behind her. “Baby. Tell me you understand.”

She’s shoves against me, and flops on her back, smacking me in the chest. “I don’t understand! We were supposed to go out, Tommy. I got dressed up. I waited for you. I texted you. A full fucking day passed. You didn’t even text me when you turned your phone back on. And your location services were off! I thought you were fucking someone else!”

I smirk. “I thought you said you thought I was dead.”

“I thought everything! It was two fucking days, Tommy!”

“Look at me, Giovanna.” I turn her chin so she’s forced to face me. “I love you. I’m not cheating. I’m not dead. Sometimes work sucks up the hours. I can’t change that overnight. I can—I will—try to text more. Is that enough? Tell me what will be enough.”

She frames my face with her hands. “Just communicate more, please? Just so I know what’s going on, and I don’t freak out thinking the worst or feel like an asshole waiting around for you all dressed up.”

“I will, baby.”

She pulls me down to her and kisses me hard. Against my mouth, she whispers, “Make it up to me.”

29

Giovanna

Iset the textbook down next to my plate of salmon, potatoes, and salad at the dining table, the candles flickering before I blow them out in a sharp puff. My makeup is still perfect—lashes curled, lips glossed—but I’ve traded my dress for pajamas.