“Well, I’m not eating hot food naked for your benefit,” I say, sitting on the couch and grabbing one of the plates.

“Maybe you should. You might like it.” I roll my eyes and load up with spanakopita and tzatziki and pita bread and souvlaki. There’s also baklava for dessert. I’m absolutely starving. I’ve been pretty much living on coffee today.

I start talking about my classes and the other things I did with my day. I’m trying to avoid any touchy subjects like my father or his or his episodes.

He tells me about the different shows he watched.

“I had no idea there were so many reality shows about so many terrible people,” he says and I laugh.

“I know, right? Just when I think there are enough of them, they come out with another one. There’s no shortage of awful people that are willing to be on television, apparently.” He wipes his mouth and dishes out a few more skewers of souvlaki.

“It was nice, to do nothing,” he says.

“Good. I’m glad you had a good day.” He nods and continues eating. I want to ask him if he’s talked to his boys, or if he’s had any contact with Cash, but that seems like the kind of thing I shouldn’t bring up right now.

So many conversational pits to fall into.

“I’m okay, Saige. I’m not going to bust into a crazy mess again. I’ve got my head on straight.” He seems defensive, but I don’t say anything.

“I just worry about you. Someone has to.” I’m more than happy to fill that role of Sylas’ Official Worrier.

“I understand.” I don’t want to say more than that and risk starting a fight between us. The television is still on the cooking channel and Sylas hands me the remote.

“Your turn. I’ve had control all day,” he says with a smile. Remote as olive branch. I take it from him and flip around until I find something I want to watch. There’s a lot of crap to wade through until I find a show about antiques getting appraised. Sylas groans when I stop flipping.

“This just makes me think of Cash. He’s obsessed with antiques. Like, beyond obsessed. His house is filled with old shit. Every time we have to move, it’s an absolute pain in the ass,” he says.

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be into antiques.” Not at all. Maybe I underestimated Cash. Won’t make that mistake again.

“Yeah, he’s an odd one.” I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t as a woman brings a painting in that her grandmother gave her and told her was by a famous artist. Turns out it’s a fake and the woman is crushed. Ouch.

We watch the show and then another one and then another. It seems an odd thing to do after the sex on the kitchen floor, but Sylas seems distant again. I want to ask him what he’s going to do tomorrow, but I don’t want to be a nag.

He pulls me close when we go to bed and whispers that he loves me.

“I love you.” I close my eyes and then he whispers one more thing.

“I’ll eat you up, I love you so.”

Nineteen

The next three days are the same. I go to class and come home and Sylas is on the couch. He’s always wearing sweats and he’s always watching television. We talk, but it’s not the same as it once was. I try to ask him about what he’s going to do, but he just brushes me off, or starts taking my clothes off. He’s very good at using sex to distract me.

I haven’t heard from Dad, and I’m too afraid to call him. I know he’ll contact me when he’s gotten the job done. I’m not looking forward to sharing that particular bit of information with Sylas.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask for the thousandth time on Friday as I’m getting ready for drinks with Lo. Sylas is currently on the couch and eating popcorn out of a bowl that’s balanced on his stomach. I get a glimpse of the man he might be in twenty years if he continues the same pattern he’s currently in. Except he’d probably be more overweight and have a bald patch on his head. He’d still be sexy as hell and I’d still want to fuck him every single second of every single day.

“Yes, I can be alone in the apartment without you, Saige. I’ll be fine. Leo and I are going to watch the game.” I have no idea what sport he’s even talking about and I’m running late so I just give him a quick kiss that’s buttery and salty before I head out the door.

I take a cab to the bar so I don’t have to worry about driving home. Lo is already there and has a drink in her hand when I rush in. She’s got a dress on that makes her legs look like they’re longer than I am tall.

“Hey, sorry, sorry,” I say as she glares. Lo hates being late. Hates. It.

“What’s the excuse?” she asks.

“Boy stuff,” I say. It’s not a total lie. Sylas and I had a little session when I got home and I had to rush to shower and dry my hair afterwards.

“Details,” she says, motioning to the bartender to bring another dirty martini for me. It’s nice having a tall friend since she never gets ignored and always gets served right away.

I roll my eyes.

“Well, he sort of lost his job, so he’s… directionless.” That’s a good way to put it. “He’s just sort of moping around the house and I wish I could do something to fix it, but he’s got to want to fix it. It’s just so frustrating.” The drink arrives and I have to fight the urge to down the entire thing in one go.

“Ugh, that’s the worst. Men aren’t good at being useless. I think it goes back to the caveman days when they had to go out and hunt and be providers. Only now they go out and trade stocks or fix cars or whatever.” She’s absolutely right. One of the things I love about Lo is how smart she is, and how she’s not afraid to show it.

“I know, I know. He’ll get through it, things are just a little weird right now. But how are you?” I’d rather focus on someone else’s life for a while. Lo takes me on a long trip through the Saga of Tadd. She’s had this thing going with a guy she met at a bar a year ago and I’ve been privy to all the most intimate details. Whether I wanted to know them or not. My opinion, that no one named Tadd is worth her time, is lost because apparently Tadd is gifted in the dick department and knows how to use it.

“If he didn’t make me come, like, ten times in one night I’d be able to ditch him,” she says, the volume of her voice much too loud for the subject matter. She gets a look from a guy sitting at the next table and just gives him her patented glare that would freeze boiling water. He quickly becomes interested in his beer bottle.

“So anyway, he calls me and I think he’s going to ask me out, but it turned out it was just a booty call. And then I find out that he’s been dating this other girl and called me to bang right after he dropped her off.” She drains her martini glass and pouts.

“Why are the worst guys for you always the best at getting you off?”

“No idea,” I say, nursing my own drink. The temptation to go wild and get blasted is totally there, but I’d rather not show up back at home stumbling drunk. Not that Sylas would care.

“I’m getting another, you want?” I shake my head and she goes off to get another drink. In addition to the long legs, she also has a high alcohol tolerance and can still walk straight even if she’s blitzed.

My phone rings and I cringe when I see that it’s Dad. There’s only one reason he’s calling. Lo arrives back with her drink and I say that I’m going outside to take a call. I move away from the front of the door so I can hear him and have a little privacy.

“Dad?” I say.

“It’s done,” he says, his voice totally cold. The martinis start churning in my stomach and I think I’m going to throw up.

“Did it go well?” I ask, my voice sounding like it doesn’t belong to me.

“Yes, fine. I’ll be home tomorrow and we can discuss details in person. Goodbye, Saige.” He hangs up and I nearly collapse on the ground. Now I know what happens to Sylas when he has his episodes. My chest feels like it has something pressed on it and I can’t seem to take a deep breath. I tell myself the same things I tell Sylas and start breathing slow and even. The horrible feeling passes and I’m able to unstick my feet from the sidewalk and go back into the bar.