32. Petra

Chapter thirty-two

Petra

When we wipe away our tears, I clutch Livi to me. Our behavior as children isn’t a valid reason to keep shutting her out. She’s right here, showing an interest in my life, wanting me to be happy, bringing Silla home. I’ve done her a disservice by pushing her away. “Thank you.”

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for the silent treatment,” Livi warns. Even with Hailey on her hip, she’s freakishly strong as she drags Silla and me into the living room. She shoos everyone else out, but Tommy lingers. “Girl time! Go away.”

“Let him in, Liv,” I say, taking the baby. “He’s as much of a gossip as you.”

Livi huffs, but lets it go. “What happened with Reed?”

“He was visiting, he went home. End of story.”

“Hey, I want auntie time,” Silla says, stealing Hailey. “I missed it all. Livi says Reed was head over heels for you. How long was he here?”

“A week,” I snorted. “Livi’s fantasizing. You can’t fall in love with someone that fast.”

Silla shrugs, eyes on Hailey. “I was in love with Josie by the end of our first date. I mean, I didn’t say it that fast, but I knew.”

“Reed went back to his life. I’m back to mine. It’s all good. No heartbreak,” I pin Livi with a glare, “and no life-changing revelations.”

I pause, considering that, and Livi spots it. “Liar,” she says.

She’s right. I need to let them in. “Gimme a sec. ”

“That’s fine,” Silla coos as I stand up. “Just gonna wait here with the cutest baby in the whole world!”

I can hear Tommy’s dry tone as I walk down the hall. “Have you told Josie you’re desperate for a baby?”

“I’m not desperate, ” Silla retorts. “We’re fine without. I’m getting my baby fix now. What about you, dating multiple girls?”

“Hey, I’m down to one,” he protests. It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one with issues.

I collect my manuscript with trepidation. There will be no going back from this, no pretending that this part of me has faded. I sink into the sofa next to Silla, but her hands are full, whereas Tommy is perched on the coffee table right in front of me. I pass it to him first.

“What is it?” Livi asks, but I don’t answer. I play with Hailey’s hand so I don’t have to watch Tommy’s reactions while he reads the first few pages.

“You wrote this?” Tommy asks. His face is filled with a wonder I’ve only seen a few times—once when the twins were born. “You don’t talk about her at all. I never thought—”

“What is happening?” Livi snatches the book from him. Her eager gaze melts into one of heartbreak, and I have to turn away. I don’t need Livi’s high emotions clawing their way into my chest and becoming my own.

What I’m not prepared for is Tommy leaning forward to take my hand. “Troni.” It reminds me of the last time we were vulnerable with each other. When he couldn’t save a woman and worried I’d end up the same. “Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t about Nate?”

I squeeze Tommy’s hand and he squeezes right back. “It was, a little.”

“You’re going to keep writing, yeah? Publish it?” he asks. Livi trades Silla, a baby for a manuscript, and tears course down Livi’s face as she tucks Hailey in close. Livi, who struggled carrying twins, knows the fear of losing them.

“I started writing it a long time ago. This is one through four. Of twenty-two. ”

“Twenty-two?” Tommy’s eyebrows sit high. “You’ve been sitting on this for a twenty-two book span?”

I nod. Silla tucks the pages between us as she pulls me into her chest. Livi drops into the cushions on my other side, Tommy leans in, and then it’s a big ball of us. All the Diamante kids, constantly divided, now congealed around each other more firmly than a clump of cold noodles.

I didn’t need Reed to see me, or fill the void in my life. I needed this. My siblings and their unending love and support.

We sit in the quiet for a minute, but then everyone’s got something to say. “I’m proud of you,” Tommy starts. “But here me out: Natalia’s fox friend should be named after me.”

“Lilly’s going to want to read them all,” Livi adds. “Natalia’s adventures are totally her speed.”

“How did you picture Natalia?” Silla asks, pulling out her phone. “Do you want to add illustrations? One of my good friends in Seattle is an illustrator, and she does art for books all the time. Let me pull up her profile.”

Our usual silence is filled in with praise, suggestions, and jokes. It’s foreign for us to talk about Natalia without crying. For us to say her name with joy. For her to be a light, not a shadow on our happiness. I can finally breathe, and the grief I’ve carried lightens with each one.

Natalia, Natalia, Natalia. Her name is a salvation.

“I’d love illustrations,” I say. “But I don’t know that anything will come of this.”

“Are you kidding?” Livi asks. She’s got the book in her hands again, flipping avidly through the chapters. “You have to publish!”

“Nothing about this to the parents yet, okay? It’s a lot in one night.”

They all agree, and it’s Silla’s laugh in my ear that makes it all perfect. “Keeping secrets like we’re kids again. Did we fool Ma with the missing marshmallows?”

“Not in a million years, Silly.” Silla and I share a grin identical to when we were middle schoolers. When we join the others for dinner, we’re the band of thieves we were twenty years ago, except now Livi and Tommy are on our team.

“Hey, Liv,” I ask, as we head to the kitchen. “Would you go to Rosary with me sometime? I can’t handle Mama and Carla on my own.”

Livi quickly masks her surprise with a smile and a squeeze on my arm. “Absolutely. Whenever you’re ready. And when you’re ready to share your story, Mama will love it. You know she and Zia attend every Rosary for Natalia, right?” I suck down a gasp, but there is no lie in Livi’s eyes.

Mama and I were never close, but I should’ve known.

Everyone finds a seat but me. I quietly refill Mama’s glass of wine, kissing her cheek as I set it beside her plate. She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. Though we say nothing, it’s more than enough.

The next morning, Silla and I creep down the stairs to surprise Mama and Papa with breakfast.

“Tell me about Reed,” Silla says as she cracks eggs over a large bowl. “How far off is Livi?”

“Far, but not outer space far. I like him, Silly. He’s funny, kind, mischievous, a little dirty.” My mouth quirks up at that. “A lot dirty. You’d get a kick out of him.”

Silla pushes my arm, laughing. “Petra! Even in your wild years, you were always quiet about sex. Did he pull you out of your shell? Is he amazing in bed?”

“He…Okay, no judgment? He’s an erotic voice actor. When I met Reed, his voice was so sexy, and I’d just been listening to one of his scenes so—”

Silla’s jaw is on the floor. “ You listen to naughty stories. You went out with a naughty storyteller. You. Petronia.”

“No judgment, remember?”

“Oh, I’m not judging! My friend Giselle is a cam girl—you do you. But you, Good Girl Petra, don’t do that.” She barks out a laugh. “Apparently you do! Get it, girl!”

I grin and smack her shoulder. “Shut up. Anyway, I didn’t hide it well. He assumed I recognized him and then we spent time together. I got to know him, and it got messy. Not externally, but internally. I do miss him.”

Silla frowns. “He’s an asshole if he made you think you had something together and then he ditched.”

“He texted me the other day, but I didn’t respond.” I wanted to. So bad. My fingers locked up around my phone when I deleted my text to him, begging me to reconsider.

“What?” Silla’s brown eyes are round in her face. “You like him, he likes you, he wants to continue talking and you don’t call? Have I taught you nothing?”

I roll my eyes at her, but my heart picks up speed, jumping on Silla’s train. “It wouldn’t work, anyway. He doesn’t know if he’s moving to San Diego or Iowa or who knows where. Long distance always fails. ”

Silla grabs my shoulders. “Troni, planes exist for a reason. You’re not paying rent, you don’t go out, you’re obviously not spending your money on clothes—can I please take you shopping? You’re squirreling your money away. Use it to see him, or use it to move wherever you want. Make it happen. Whether it works with Reed or not, you’ll be where you want to be.”

“It’s expensive.”

Silla raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re defensive.”

“Okay, Reed,” I mock.

“Oh, he saw you under all the layers. No wonder you’re running.” Silla nods, determination pulling over her features. “Call him this afternoon, or I’m doing it for you.”

I bite my lip in hesitation, but I miss him like crazy. “I have to work.”

“Call. Him.”

“I’ll consider it.” Silla narrows her eyes, but lets me go so I can pour the eggs into a hot pan. I love having her here. I didn’t realize that the distance between us was brutal until I got her back. “Sill, what if I moved to Seattle?”

“Seriously? I’d love to have you close by! You could stay with me and Josie for a while, or Giselle, since you’re cool with her work. You could do that on the side, you know, if you wanted to earn extra,” she says with a wink.

I roll my eyes. “No one wants to see a cam girl over thirty.”

“Uh, people love that. And your whole girl-next-door thing? Super hot.”

“Pass. If I were to do anything, it would be like Reed. Audio appeals to me.”

Silla hums. “You’re an auralist. Not super uncommon, though most people don’t lean into it that far. I’m proud of you. You were always Papa’s good girl who went to church and pretended sex didn’t exist outside of your bed. Just talking to me about this? It’s a whole new Petra. You aren’t hiding either side of you, and I love that. ”

Something settles in my chest at her words. Though I look the same, I feel different. More confident.

“Seattle’s less than four hours away,” she notes. “Portland is an hour. You can find big city life up here, too. It’s not Los Angeles or bust, you know? You could have it all. Us and the life you want.”

“We need to see each other more often,” I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. The bubble of hope swelling in my chest is terrifying. More terrifying than growing old alone in my parents’ house—or worse, me and Tommy growing old here together.

When Silla leaves after breakfast, I wait for life to return to normal. I wait for the hope in my chest to fizzle out. For the spark of new life to fade to ash. For the varnish over my reality to yellow and brown, and wipe the color from my world.

But it doesn’t.

Reed texts again.

Do you still spend nights in the tub with me? Call me. Please.

But I can’t bring myself to do it. I edit Natalia’s story, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for Reed to move on.

I dream of a studio in Portland with barely enough space to write, and a window looking out over the bustling, wet street. A wall full of ideas and illustrations for Natalia’s series, and new friends that come over and eat delicious food.

At night, tucked in the corner of the dream, is a hope beyond hope.

The impossible version of my dream turns the studio into a three-bedroom house. Ours, my office, and Reed’s sound booth. We would drive each other crazy—both working from home—but the dream doesn’t care. We’d find happiness together when Reed works through story ideas with me, or when he pulls me into his sound booth for recordings that make me blush.

Our families would visit, filling up our kitchen with laughter. We’d come home for occasional Sunday dinners, or drive up to Seattle. We’d fly to see his sister and his family, and we’d eat puppy chow together on a park bench in Iowa.

That dream is cradled in the dark of my heart. It’s a mushroom, growing steadily despite the lack of optimism. Flourishing, despite the toxic stuff I’ve buried deep down.

Until I want nothing more than for it to be real.