Page 102 of Mafia Obsession

“I wanted to surprise you,” I reply, breathing in the smell of lavender.

It’s pleasant, but the smell is everywhere. It has calming effects on the patients.

She pulls back to study my face, her gaze clear but faintly searching. This is challenging her brain and maybe setting her therapy back a few weeks. In the end, getting her out of this place is the best thing for her.

“How long will you be here?” she asks.

Bracing for what I have to tell her about what happened, I say, “For a while.”

“David doesn’t mind?”

“No.” I shake my head, then add gently, “David and I have separated.”

Sandrine studies me for a beat, like she’s deciding how much that means to her. “Oh. That’s sad. When people break up. Right?”

I stare at her, realizing I don’t know if she’s ever had a boyfriend. She never mentioned one to me. Maybe someday when she’s more stable, she can date.

I just nod and close the conversation. “It is sad.”

It’s the breakup with Ares that’s tearing me apart inside.

The rest of the day, knowing I’m safe, that no one will find me here, I just sit with my sister and blend into her world. I ask about her art classes, the food, and other patients, if she has friends here.

When the conversation drifts toward the edges of the harder parts about living here, I smile optimistically with responses,I’ll fix that. I’ll take care of that.

Because I will.

Later, I meet with her primary physician for a full update. I don’t mention moving her. I don’t want to come off as irrational and impulsive on my first visit in years.

When I leave the building that evening, the sky has already darkened. Although I tell myself the sensation prickling along the back of my neck is nothing more than exhaustion, I can’t shake the impression that there’s an earthquake happening in New York over my disappearance.

I take a cab to a motel that out-of-town relatives of another patient at the facility suggested. It’s the kind of place where a front desk clerk doesn’t ask questions or look too closely at my ID. Inside the bland, sterile room, the silence is loud and annoying. A wall of tension presses down on me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

For the first time since stepping into the car in New York, the enormity of what I’ve done finally hits me.

I left without saying goodbye to Ares.

I left knowing he would worry.

And while I strongly bristle at the idea of belonging to anyone, I can’t deny how I loved being pampered and protected by him in Santorini.

I press my fingers to my eyes and let the tears flow out. It’s been two weeks since a brutal man dragged me from my bed in the Hell’s Kitchen apartment, where I watched him and his partner die.

Thanks to Ares.

I allow myself a few minutes of weakness. I’ve fucking earned that after years of being strong and hiding my feelings.

After my pity party, I activate the burner phone I bought from a vending machine at the airport. I text my cousin Elodie in Scottsdale with the new number to pick up when I call to give her an update. I’d been texting her from the old phone for the last few years. She knows all the gory details of my life, but I delivered them in small doses.

When I last talked to her, I’d told her my plan to move Sandrine to Arizona. She was excited to see us and seemed very open to helping me.

“Hey,” she says, answering on the first ring. “Did you make it to Chicago?”

“Hi. I’m here now. I saw Sandrine today. She’s strong. But she’ll be better off in a specialized place. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the director about the transfer.”

“I can’t wait for you both to be here,” she says. “Family is what’s best for our Sandrine.”

I choke up at how she cares about my sister even if we haven’t seen each other in years.