“See, I knew this was what you needed. You get a solid orgasm, and you are glowing.”
The waitress drops off our food, and we eat in silence for a few minutes, hunger winning out over any potential conversation. The satisfying crunch of the freshly toasted sourdough is music to my ears. Good friends, good food, good coffee, and a good orgasm. All a girl needs.
“I still can’t believe you snuck under the table to give him a handy. That was ballsy as hell.”
“More like risky as hell. I blame the orgasm brain.” I curl my hands into fists and stack them on one another. “It was like this big by the way.”
She tilts her head. “Not bad.”
I scoff at her, taking another large bite of my toast. We polish off the rest of our food, mindlessly chatting about the rest of the event. My mind keeps slipping back to Blade, and it frustrates me because it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. It was one night, but I’m treating it like forbidden fruit I want a second bite of. Plus, if the articles are true, he already has other drama going on with streamers, and I don’t need that in my life. It was bad enough that I got close to being front-page news, the last thing I need is to actually be front-page news and have my family see it.
Deanna and I split the bill, promising to meet up again later in the week when our schedules aren’t so busy. I pop a quick kiss on her cheek and head out to my car. I’m a few feet away when my eyes catch on something pink on my windshield.
There is a rose stuck under the left wiper blade. A single pink rose.
I hate roses.
Chase, however, thinks pink roses are a timeless symbol of love. I pick up the flower with the very tips of my thumb and pointer finger, like it’s poisonous.
What in the ever-loving shit is this?
I whip my head around, scanning the parking lot for Chase’s BMW. How did he know I was here? Sure, Deanna and I frequent Glass & Grass at least once a week…but he couldn’t have known I would be here today. I didn’t post about it on social media, and a quick scan of Deanna’s socials show she hasn’t either.
Paranoid, I scan the backseat and trunk of my car through the windows, just to make sure he didn’t do something stupid like break in as well. Chase isn’t the brightest guy I’ve met, but he is resourceful, has a lot of money, and is used to getting what he wants. I quickly slip inside and lock the doors after throwing the rose on the ground.
Not wanting to stick around, I turn on my car and head back home, blasting my favorite playlist in an attempt to block out any thoughts. For thirty minutes, I scream lyrics into the void. It’s not until I scan into my apartment complex that the tension in my shoulders finally drops. I’m checking my mailbox when my phone starts vibrating in the side pocket of my leggings, and I freeze. If it’s Chase, I’m not sure if I should answer or not. On one hand, I don’t want to give in to him, on the other hand, I want to rip him a new one for basically stalking me.
I slip my phone out and peek at the caller ID.
Mother.
I kind of wish it was Chase instead.
“Mother, hello, to what do I—”
“Stephanie Andwell, do you want to embarrass this family?”
“Pardon?” I can hear her heels clacking on the floor in the background.
“I just had lunch with Marisol Broadshire, and she informed me that you and Chauncy have not only broken up again, but that you have been acting like a complete child and are ignoring his calls?”
I gag a little at my mother’s use of Chase’s given name.
“Well, if you must know, I caught him with—”
“The Taylors are hosting their annual party in a few weeks, and I expect you to have this situation sorted before then. Katalavaineis?”
Do I understand? Seriously. I don’t even want to touch the irony of that sentence with a ten-foot pole. Sort the situation. I scoff. Yeah, like I’m so excited to reconcile with my ex-boyfriend so we can attend a party hosted by the family of the latest girl he cheated on me with. A real hoot. Let me just go pick up my rose-tinted glasses while I’m at it, maybe a dunce hat as well.
“Stephanie, did you just scoff at me? Since when did you become so disrespectful?” She tsks. “This is what happens when you spend all that time inhaling paint fumes.”
I don’t bother reminding her that her friends have bid on my pieces before. That they’ve paid me tens of thousands of dollars just to hang my work in their homes. Instead, I tune her out as I walk the five flights up to my apartment. There is an elevator, but it is atrociously slow, so I only use it when I have groceries or large packages. She is still droning on, slipping into Greek every once in a while, by the time I reach my door and unlock it. Dumping my purse on the table, I toe off my sneakers and flop onto my couch.
“I’ll have your father wire you extra money to pick out a dress. Vittoria is wearing red, so please do not clash with her like last time.”
Vittoria is my older brother’s fiancée, and my mother is in love with her. I don’t blame her; I adore Vittoria, too. She works as a neonatal nurse practitioner and is literal sunshine. She met my brother when he was a resident at her hospital. Now Michail works as a facial plastic surgeon at his own private practice, which my mother also loves for obvious reasons. Practically free Botox at her disposal and a heavily discounted face lift she will deny she had if you ask her. Really. She won’t even admit it to me, and I saw her the weekend after with her face covered in gauze.
My mother and I weren’t always at odds. We had a pretty good relationship when I was young. I was her little star. Her asteraki. I loved going to parties with her and getting dressed up. I still do. But I’m no longer her prized daughter to show off unless I’m attached to Chase’s arm or the arm of an equally outstanding man. It’s frustrating. It’s almost worse that she was so amazing and attentive growing up because I know what her love feels like. Not that she doesn’t love me, but her judgement always comes first. I had my role in the family, and I’ve ignored it. Apparently, I’m choosing to be selfish by pursuing my own dreams. My choices are disrespecting how hard my yiayia and papou worked to make it in America. My chest goes hollow, and my eyes begin to prickle. I know it’s not true. My grandparents only ever wanted me to be happy—it’s why yiayia left me this place. I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds, focusing on my breathing.
“Stephanie?”
“Yes, Mother. I won’t clash with Vittoria, and I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“And Chauncy. Every relationship has its hiccups, but that is no reason to throw away the last five years of your life. You aren’t getting any younger.”
I’m twenty-five, not fifty-five.
“Love you, Mother. Talk soon. Bye!”