Invisible String

Chapter One- Time, Curious Time

Outside, Peter's waiting by the car, arms crossed over his chest as he eyes Natali, who's clearly overcompensated for her lack of enthusiasm.

"She's fine," is the hasty explanation and Peter nods. He's been with her long enough not to ask questions.

Everyone piles in the SUV and they set out to drop their small assembled group off, one by one, until it's only the two of them left.

Natali's fallen asleep, head against the window, and she shakes her head affectionately. At least someone took full advantage of the night.

Again, she realizes she's left to her own thoughts. A dangerous place to be and desperately, she lets her fingers sift through her clutch only to be faced with disappointment. No cigarette because she'd given them up for the fifth time in three months.

"Fuck," she mutters. Natali stirs and she quickly pats her shoulder, shushing her. It wasn't the best timing to quit smoking and as the days pass, it's becoming more apparent. It was her vice of choice that her fiancé absolutely hated, gave her massive shit for, so it's either sneaking one here and there or making a concentrated effort to stop because he catches her red handed almost every time. 

In lieu of absolutely nothing better to quell the return of her anxiety (and Natali's certainly in no position to talk), she thumbs absently at her phone, scrolling through social media without really reading anything. David's texted only once, telling her to "have fun, but not too much fun," and for some reason, the sentiment makes a little puff of air escape through closed lips. He's away for the entire weekend and that's the only thing he can think of to say to her? 

He's not trying to deliberately piss her off, she knows that. Little things are getting under her skin, though, and she's been chalking it up to not being able to pinpoint what was off lately and how to fix it. 

Mercifully, they finally pull into the long driveway, through the gates and up to the main house. Peter gets Natali inside and upstairs to the guest bedroom and she rouses just enough to smile and thank him profusely, making him redden.

"I got it from here," Stefani tells him, biting back an amused smile, "go home, okay?"

He nods silently and she sees the question in his eyes. Peter is good like that; she never has to say much for him to suspect something isn't quite right and fleetingly, she reaches out to touch his shoulder.

"It's okay. All good. Please...go get some rest."

He's not a stupid man, by any means. He also knows when to leave well enough alone, so he gives her hand a brief squeeze on the way out. She hears what he isn't saying: if you need to talk, I'm here.

It's very sweet and if she had the ability to wrap her head around what was wrong, she'd be more than happy to talk about it. There was no point, otherwise. Just a terribly vague mishmash of whirlwind thoughts that made no sense at all when you laid them out next to each other. She isn't going to burden anyone with that kind of nonsense.

Sleep is probably the best course of action, so Stefani makes sure Natali's on her side, kisses her forehead, smiles when she mumbles that she's "the best sister in the world," and retreats to her own room down the hall. 

Everything she loves about the suite, how bright and open it is, how crisp and clean the all white linens appear, seem to turn on her on the nights David is gone and she's totally out of sorts over whatever this is. It's just too much space and even with lamps and the overhead light fixtures, she can't keep some of the shadows out. She debates calling him or texting, doing the numbers in her head, only to determine it's 10 am in Madrid and it's highly likely he's in a meeting.