Page 70 of Let's Be Forever

I understand what she’s saying loud and clear and that fills me with hope, but it slowly fizzles as I think about what’s been said online. I already spoke to Harlow on my way home, and we’re not stressed because we prepared for this. I just need to talk to Anna.

Although I’m surprised my parents haven’t called, it’s for the best. I’m more levelheaded than I was a few days ago, but I still don’t trust I’ll be able to hold back.

“If you’re okay with it, I’d love to stay with Rosie. I almost need to put her down for bed anyway.”

“Yeah, definitely stay with her as long as you want. You don’t need to ask me, but I don’t want you to think I’m not going to help or be present. She’s my responsibility, and I want to help as much as I can.”

The corners of her mouth jerk up a tad. “You don’t need to worry about what I think.”

“You’re her sister. Everything that revolves around Anna and Rosie is important to me. I know how important it is for her that you’re back in her life. She missed you a lot, and while she didn’t voice it, I knew. She cares about you, and I know she’s happy.”

“Oh.” Her face softens as does her voice. She blinks rapidly, looking away. “Well, I’m lucky she doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Even if she did, I know she wouldn’t hold one against you.”

“God, can you stop talking?” She sounds like she’s halfway between joking and serious.

I rub the nape of my neck. “Uh, yeah…”

“I didn’t mean that literally. I just…you’re not what I thought you’d be.” She clicks her tongue. “So, I actually need to make a phone call. Can you stay with Rosie?”

“Yeah.” I round the couch and drop down on the floor next to her.

As Maya walks away, she peers over her shoulder, watching me with an expression I can’t read. But when she’s out of range, I draw my focus to my toddler.

“Sy, let’s play.” Rosie grabs my arm, a cheery smile on her face as she lists all the things we’ll be playing with.

“Yes, my love.” I answer her with all the enthusiasm I can muster, doing my best to focus on what we’re doing and not what they’re saying online.

I hope Anna won’t hate me.

29

SYLAS

I’m pacing the terrace,debating grabbing my phone from my pocket and lighting a cigarette.

Harlow already warned me not to look at the tabloids. I know it’s in my best interest that I don’t. I can only imagine what they’re saying and how they’re blowing everything out of proportion.

As suspected, everyone is losing their minds over the news. People I haven’t spoken to in years are crawling out of the woodwork, and new and old teammates are blowing up my DMs. Everyone seems to have reached out, except for my parents.

Thea and I already spoke, and just like Harlow, she cautioned me against looking at my socials.

It seems like everyone knows except for Anna because when she got home from work, she didn’t seem to be aware.

I told her we needed to talk, but she said she desperately needed to shower. Which is why I’ve been waiting out here for thirty minutes now.

Just as I’m about to reach for my phone, Anna steps outside. Her damp hair is down, her glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, and she’s wearing a baggy T-shirt baggy that sits mid-thigh.

When we were together, she’d wear my shirts to bed with nothing underneath. As much as I’d love to know what is or isn’t under the material, I don’t allow myself to ask.

“Hey?” She observes me, cautious eyes perusing my face. “Everything okay?”

“The media knows.” I get to the point. It took everything in me not to text her earlier, but she was at work. I assumed she didn’t know anything because Maya didn’t, not until I told her before she said good night. “It was posted just a few hours ago, and I’m convinced your loud-ass neighbor Joel had something to do with it.”

Her nostrils flare, and her lips flatten in a tight line. She releases them and tsks, standing by the railing. “Of course he did. Let me guess, he took pictures and sold them?”

“Yeah.” I stand next to her and force myself to focus on what we’re talking about and not the fact that she’s here. Every night, I’d stand here with a cigarette in my hand, staring at nothing in particular, sifting through memories. “Don’t look me up. It’s all they’re talking about, and…”