my casanova

chapter four

on the friday of that week, ted and georgiana sterling arrive back home from their camping trip. the pair stumble through the front door, lugging bags and suitcases, all broad smiles and tanned faces. apollo rushes to greet them, hugging them both tightly and going off on a tangent about everything he did in their absence. lavinia stands back, temporarily forgotten as the sterlings' only son - their pride and joy - deserves all their attention.

her parents haul their belongings upstairs and toss everything on their california king, saving the unpacking for later. back downstairs, they pour themselves each hefty glasses of wine and settle down at the granite kitchen island.

"so," lavinia's mother says, turning to her son after he had finished telling her of everything he did at his friend's sleepover and more. "how's lucy?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

apollo rolls his eyes. "mom," he whines, dragging the word out. "we're just friends."

their father chuckles and slings his arm around georgiana's shoulders, bringing her close into his side. she presses her temple against his cheek and brings a hand to his chest. "that's what i said about your mother, too, at first."

lavinia thinks of wren. they had been friends first, above anything else. friends since elementary school; they had learned to ride bicycles together, learned to write cursive together, made volcanoes from paper mache and coke and mentos together. neither girl had ever thought it would turn into something more.

"besides," apollo continues. "she's not talking to me right now."

their parents frown sympathetically and pat his shoulder. "she'll come around, bud," ted reassures. "they always do." he winks at his wife and goes to refill his wine glass.

"and lavinia," georgiana sighs, reluctantly turning toward her daughter. "how was your week?" she asks it as though she's asking a distant colleague about the weather. their conversations have become a simple matter of formality, and lavinia sometimes prefers it that way.

the other half of her longs to have parents that care about her the way they care about apollo. sometimes, late at night, she misses the parents she had before everything went downhill her freshman year.

"oh, you know," lavinia says breezily, waving her hand nonchalantly through the air. "same old. hung out with ben and the girls, went out for milkshakes, that sort of thing."

ted comes back to the kitchen island from pouring himself the wine and sits back down. "sounds fun," he says politely, sparing her only a quick glance.

apollo brightens in his chair. "oh my god, mom and dad," he says excitedly. "you'll never guess who we saw."

lavinia's heart drops down to the pit of her stomach and her skin goes clammy in a matter of milliseconds. she tries to meet apollo's eyes - the only blue ones in the family - and widens her eyes in a warning, shaking her head a little and hoping that her parents won't notice her display. neither her mom nor her dad do, but apollo doesn't either - he just keeps going, unaware that lavinia's demise is mere seconds away.

"when lavinia picked me up from the sleepover, wren was in the car," he says innocently. "it was so cool."

and there it is. the other shoe has finally dropped, and lavinia nervously eyes her parents. anger flashes across both of their faces; georgiana's lips tighten and a vein pulses in ted's forehead. all lavinia can do is await her punishment at this point.

"oh, well, isn't that nice," georgiana says to apollo through gritted teeth. "how wonderful."

apollo nods in agreement. "it was," he says wistfully. "i've missed her."