Page 48 of Tears Like Acid

“Hungry?” he asks, measuring me from over his shoulder.

“Starving,” I say honestly.

“Good.” His lips tilt in one corner. “Sit down.”

Obeying, I take a seat. Our roles from last night are reversed as he serves a large helping of eggs on my plate.

“Eat before it gets cold,” he says, leaving the pan on a cork plate before taking the seat opposite me.

He prepares my coffee the way I like it while I butter a slice of toast. We eat in silence until he takes his phone from his pocket and connects a call that he puts on speaker.

At my questioning look, he says, “Your brother would like to speak to you.”

The piece of bread I just swallowed gets stuck in my throat. “He called?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“Two days ago?” I exclaim.

“During my business trip.”

I’m about to point out that he had plenty of time last night to return the call when Ryan answers.

“Angelo?” my brother says in a strained voice. “It’s about fucking time.”

My husband slides the phone across the table with a warning in his eyes.

Swallowing, I pick up the phone. “Ryan, it’s me.”

“Sabella,” Ryan says with a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. How are you? I was afraid Angelo wouldn’t let us speak to you.”

“I’m fine.” I add quickly, “I’m with him.”

A moment of silence passes as my brother no doubt understands that the phone is on speaker.

“How are Celeste and Brad?” I ask, trying hard to keep the emotions assaulting me from my voice.

“They’re doing great. Celeste is working full time as a volunteer again. Brad is going to a fancy new-age kindergarten. You know Celeste.” He chuckles. “However, I have to admit, he loves it there. More importantly, tell me your news.”

“There’s nothing much to tell,” I say, forcing a smile into my tone.

“Where are you?”

“In Corsica.”

“How are things going there?” he asks carefully. “Are you adapting?”

“Yes.” I glance at my husband. “The house is very nice.”

Angelo’s expression remains blank.

“Are you…?” Ryan hesitates. “Healthy?”

We all know it’s code for asking if my husband is treating me well.

“Yes,” I say. “How’s Mom coping?”

“She’s good. She moved in with Mattie and Jared.”