Page 78 of Empire of Lust
I know why. And I want to die right here in this booth.
It was one thing for her to be okay with Callum and me when she was an ocean away, but obviously, she feels differently now. We haven’t been physically affectionate in front of her, and I’ve kept from talking about us. It’s too awkward, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m rubbing her nose in it.
I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around her, but I don’t want to bring it up. I don’t want to force a conversation if she doesn’t want to discuss this relationship. When she wants to, she’ll come to me. We’re both adults. I have to give her space.
And until she comes around, I’ll be staying in her father’s room. This is so fucked up.
By the time we finish eating—she doesn’t do much more than pick at her food, even after rambling about how much she was craving a burger—she slides out of the booth wearing a determined expression. “I want to go shopping. I need a few new things, especially for when I start my internship next month.”
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about that seems off. Just one more thing. “What a shame you didn’t just vacation somewhere with incredible clothes stores,” I remind her. “I figured you would come back with trunks full of new clothes.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t get much of a chance to go shopping.” She’s digging through her purse, intent on finding her lip balm, but I wonder if she is also avoiding looking at me. Something’s not adding up, and I don’t know how to phrase it in a way that won’t piss her off and bring our day to an end.
She was gone for almost two months, and it’s like she came back a different person. Callum asked over dinner last night if Kristoff would come around to thank him for the trip, and she looked like she was going to throw up. She hasn’t mentioned him to me, and considering how tight-lipped she’s been, I don’t know if that means there’s something wrong with him or what.
“I could use a few things for work,” I offer. It’s difficult trying to sound chipper with this dark cloud hanging over us, but I do my best as we leave the restaurant and head for the car waiting outside. Romero isn’t driving, which is unusual, but Callum has kept him busy lately with all kinds of work I’m not allowed to know the details of. I’m sure it’s better that way.
“Just make sure it’s nothing too cute, or Dad might get jealous.” I almost choke on my spit when she says it, but she pairs it with a light, genuine laugh that makes her sound like her old self.
I wish I knew what to think. I only know I’m so starved for her presence and friendship that hearing her laugh like that is a gift.
* * *
“This is cute.”I turn around in the mirror and check myself out over my shoulder. I wish it would get cold soon, so I have an excuse to wear a sweater dress. It’ll be super cute with boots.
I bet Callum would love it. The idea makes me giggle at myself. He won’t be able to keep his hands off me with my curves on display. I might not make it out of the house before he attacks.
“Hey, check me out.” I open the door to my dressing room and knock on the door beside it. “What do you think?”
“Gimme a sec.” Her high-pitched voice rings out at the same time I realize her door isn’t fully closed, and it doesn’t occur to me not to open it until I see what she is trying to hide.
She’s just finished taking off a dress and is only in her bra and panties, so nothing’s keeping me from the black-and-blue patches all over her upper arms, her shoulder blades, even her ass.
Her wide, panicked eyes meet mine in the mirror. “It’s not what you think,” she immediately whispers.
“What happened?” The sight of her wearing those bruises makes my throat so tight I can’t do more than sip air.
“It’s nothing.” She backs herself into the corner, her arms crossed over her chest, hands gripping her shoulders. “Can I get a little privacy?”
No, she can’t because when my eyes drop below her waist, the bruises on her thighs jump out at me and make my eyes sting.
“We were swimming,” she explains while I stand in mute horror. “We rented a boat in Catania and were out in the water. I got thrown against some rocks. That’s all.”
And were any of those rocks hand-shaped? Because that’s the shape of the bruise on her left bicep—the perfect imprint of a palm and five fingers wrapped around her arm.
“Listen to me.” I close the door behind me and lower my voice to a whisper. “I want the truth.”
“That is—”
“Tatum,” I snap. “That isn’t true. What about the bruises on your legs, inside your thighs? What really happened out there? You can tell me. I love you. You’re my best friend.”
“I know that.” She stares at the floor, curling and uncurling her toes and chewing her lip.
“If somebody hurt you, I’m here to listen. No judgment. But you have to be honest with me, and I can tell you aren’t.”
It’s when a tear hits her arm that my heart shatters. I have never seen her cry in all the years we’ve known each other. Even when she broke her wrist after tripping and falling on the playground in middle school, she didn’t shed a tear. She’s gone through breakups, and her mom has flaked out on something important a million times. Tatum never so much as sniffled.
“It was bad.” I almost have to lean in to hear her; she’s whispering so softly. “Worse than before.”