The Don’s Eternal Loss Chapter 09
Wanted to tell her not to rip her heart out and hand it away
to someone else.
Wanted to tell her that the boy with that gorgeous smile
would one day post on Instagram: “One like and I’m dumping
this psycho Vivian Rossi.”
Wanted to tell her she’d turn into the exact kind of woman
she despised most.
I kept my mouth shut.
Because nineteen–year–old Vivian looked far too happy.
She deserved that moment.
Even if it was just that one moment.
Waking up, I found Mochi had completely settled into her
new home.
She migrated from under the couch to the cushions, then
upgraded straight to my pillow.
Her latest habit involved sneaking under the blanket in the
middle of the night to sleep pressed against my feet.
By the time I noticed, she had already claimed her spot.
squinting green eyes at me with a look that screamed, “Deal
with it.”
Elena said cats were just like women; once they get burned,
they don’t trust a second time easily.
“When she finally trusts you, though, it’s the real deal.”
“So you can’t let her down.”
I told her I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t let her down.
And I’d never let myself down again either.
never expected Michael to track me down again.
figured that last phone call had settled things between us
for good.
Seconds before I caught sight of him, I was debating which
trash movie to queue up for the night.
Lately, I had developed an obsession with bad movies, the
worse the better.
Brainless enough to turn off and crash right after.
Turning my car around the corner, his ride caught my eye
instantly.
I knew that car inside and out.
His very first super luxury vehicle.
The passenger door handle had a scuff mark left over from
scraping a pillar in the garage last year.
Micha
Michael freaked out over it for ages back then, whining that
the car was only two months old.
pointed out that his reversing angles were completely off.
He shot back that my terrible directions caused the bad angle.
We fought over that stupid scratch for an entire evening.
Thinking back, that might have been the final non–Isabella–related argument we ever had.
Michael wasn’t sitting inside the car, though.
He stood right outside my apartment building.
Well, well, the mighty godfather slumming it in a neighborhood like this.
From a distance, he looked a lot leaner.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was waiting for
down there.
He had no idea if I’d even come back.
Had no idea when I’d show up.
Didn’t even know if I still lived here.
Just like all those times I used to wait for him at home.
Clueless about when he’d return, who he was with, or if he’d
even come back at all. even
Then he’d stumble back reeking of booze and someone else’s perfume, laughing and asking why I was still waiting up.
Now the tables had turned, and he was the one waiting.
I stood under the streetlamp for roughly two minutes without him noticing.
Instead, I dialed the landlord’s number.
Hi, someone’s loitering downstairs, doesn’t look like a resident.”
Could you send security to check it out?”
I hung up and slipped into the building through the side door.
Michael hadn’t budged by the time I made it upstairs.
I could see security giving him an earful for a while.
Their words didn’t reach me, I just watched Michael standing there stiff as a utility pole.
Eventually, losing the argument with the security guards, he
fired up his sports car and peeled off in frustration.
Stepping back from the curtains, I dropped onto the couch.
Mochi poked her head out of her cat bed, let out a yawn, and curled back up to resume her nap.
Pouring a glass of water, I sat down at the dining table to grab a bite.
Catching the scent of tuna, Mochi trotted over, parked herself
by my feet, and hooked her tail around my ankle.
“Don’t even think about it,” I looked down at her. “You have kibble.”
She let out a disgruntled yawn, yet flopped down right beside me, resting her chin on my slipper.