His Mafia Queen

Breaking Apart

"Oh, would you look at this?" I shake my head at the cell screen, while pretending to swipe and tap. "There's been a terrible car crash on the interstate. Six killed. All hands on deck in the newsroom. I'm so sorry, but this is the reality of my job. Cath, I'll call you to reschedule?"

Maybe because I spoke quickly, as if uttering one long word, or because anxiety and possibly anger are radiating off Gabriel in waves, Catherine nods.

"Um. Sure. That's terrible. Where's the crash?"

I sip in a breath and furrow my brows. "By the mall."

Gabriel's eyes finally focus on me, and I suspect he knows I'm lying.

"Oh dear, that's awful. Well. Maybe we can get together for drinks?"

"Fine. Maybe! Yes. Talk soon."

I refuse to acknowledge Gabriel on my way out, and would promise anything at this point to be through with this situation.

"Maybe the three of us can go to dinner, wouldn't that be cool, Gabe," she chirps.

My hands hit the door and I shove it open, banging through without saying a word. Once I'm outside and out of eyesight, I break into a run all the way down the street to my car.

Inside, I peel away, not wanting to know how long Gabriel stays in the gallery.

A few blocks away, I'm crying so hard I can't drive, and I pull into the parking lot of a restaurant. Giant, heaving sobs wrack my body, and I stay there for many long minutes. I wail until there's nothing left inside but a dull, soul-crushing ache, and then I'm ready to go home.

***

Once in my apartment, I take off my work clothes, feeling as though I should burn them merely for being present on one of the worst days of my life.

Not the worst, of course, that's reserved for the day I found out that Lorna died. Today comes in as a distant, yet surprisingly emotional, second.

"How could he fucking do that?" I mutter, pulling open my freezer and grabbing the bottle of vodka. I'd bought it when I moved to Tampa, thinking I'd need it because I'd be inviting newsroom friends over. Since then, it's sat unopened.

I twist the cap off with a satisfying crack and splash some into a glass. Thank God I have some cola in the fridge, and I mix a strong drink and take a giant gulp.

My phone buzzes with a text, for real this time. I mutter a curse word and check the screen. It's from Gabriel.

Riley, we need to talk.

"Eff you," I say aloud, taking another sip. Not only do I feel betrayed, but I feel used. Maybe he's been juggling both Cath and I all this time. She seemed so nice. I almost feel as bad for her as I do for myself. He's playing her, as well.

As I'm considering whether I should return his text with a hearty "fuck off, don't ever contact me again," another message comes through.

I can explain everything. Please don't worry. I know that was awkward. I have a work thing tonight but we can talk when I'm finished. I'll be done by midnight. Promise.

A snort comes out of my nose. He probably wants to fuck me one last time. "Yeah. I'm sure you can explain it all. Slick bastard."

The phone then rings with a call. It's him.

"Nope. Nope. Nope." I set the phone on the kitchen counter and walk into the living room.

There's no way I can send a reply text or call him without losing my shit. I'm teetering on the edge of anger while filled with deep despair. I'm in no shape to have a conversation with Gabriel.