Crumbling Cakes

Part XLII (42)

A/N: This the breather. The moments of reprieve and well deserved rest for these two.  I wrote strictly with the idea that they needed a moment of just being. Hopefully, you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just two more chapters left after this, wowza has it been a ride.  Happy readings y'all!

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I fretted over my night bag. A night bag I had to borrow from Sweets because all I had was my canvas pack and a massive duffel. Neither really appropriate.

This was big. Huge. We were spending a night at his parents' house for Christmas. In one room. With his parents who were going to officially know we were a two-person unit, Oh my God.

Swiftly, I yanked the zipper open again, ruffling through my options. "Lia, you ready? We really have to go. Otherwise, Ma is going to go file for missing persons." I heard him laugh to himself. Well, at least one of us was in great spirits. Although given our humping marathon last night, I'd be more shocked if he was being a sourpuss.

My hand twitched. "Uh—just a second!" I was stalling. Putting off the inevitable. My insides twisting at the thought of having to face Eilis. Trying to keep from fucking up with Renata now that her laid out plans were coming to fruition. Kiernan was the easy one, let's be real.

Then there was Tris. The blank sister, the unknown. I was hyperventilating.

"Little Lia," Ronaldo snuck up behind me. Two arms wrapped around my waist as he perched his head on my shoulder. I imagined his knees must have been bent to pull off such a thing. My theory was confirmed when he lifted me up and placed me away from my bag. He zipped it up quickly and set it by my former bedroom door. I have yet to move rooms. Baby steps.

"I wasn't finished," I huffed.

"You were finished two hours ago." He gave me a pointed look. "What's going on, Short Stack?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Nothing." Everything.

The word vomit was building in my chest, creeping up higher at an alarming rate. Spewing all over the space between us. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around this new step. And I don't want to fuck this up. I don't want repeat accusations a-la-Eilis with your other sister. And are you sure you really want this? I mean I'm a mess, Ronaldo. A giant, colossal mess. I have a ramen addiction. I'm harboring homeless minors in your spare apartment. I've only recently moved into an actual establishment meant for human habitation—thanks to you. I have my own goon squad stalking my shadow and, and a Mother who runs a brothel. Not even a legal one like the Bunny Ranch! No, a full-on prostitution ring with scummy contacts! And she keeps following me around like a fucking parasite. Are you sure that's what you want to tie yourself to? Because believe me, her maniacal ass popping up all over the place will get real old, real fast, Sweets. And things are going to get ugly as we get farther along this investigation process. I just think maybe I should stay here. It's not like we're that serious. Its only day one. They won't even miss me! And hell maybe you'll change your mind. I mean you didn't cave at the bridal shop—such wise instincts, you—so this can't possibly that serious...and so not important—totally, totally not important—but why didn't you cave at the bridal shop?!" I was practically heaving. The points no longer connecting in anything that resembled a coherent argument. Sebastian, bless his baking heart, took it all in stride. Eyes wide and getting wider.

His ability to shift gears when I was having a meltdown was marveling. Sweets pulled me to him, holding me loosely. Choosing to ignore my rantings of panic and address the real pressing matter; why I even cared he hadn't jumped my bones during our own runway lingerie show.