Diary of a Bad Boy(107)
“Wow. I’m proud of you. What did she say?”
“She basically told me I have the right to say no, that I should say no, and anything my mum or dad might say to me in return is only to spur a reaction from me. She told me to be calm, to tell them if they want to have a relationship with me, they know where to find me, but I won’t be sending any more money to them.”
“And did they call?” I nod. “Did you tell them?” Bram asks, now on the edge of his seat.
“No.”
He deflates. “What? Why not?”
I smile. “I had my own way of saying things.”
“Oh hell,” he chuckles. “What did you say?”
“She called yesterday, like I knew she would. She asked for some money for food. Said they were starving. I listened to her pleas and at the end of her rant, I told her I’m sorry for not being there, sorry she believes I’m a fuck-up who owes them something. Told her I wanted and created my own life and she should be proud of that. If she can’t accept that, it’s on her, not me.”
“Do you believe that?”
“In time I will. And then I told her if she wanted more money, she’d have to take out a loan with interest, but in order to get the money, she has to pay me back everything I’ve given her first.”
“Shit.” He laughs. “I bet that didn’t go over well.”
“Not even a little. Called me some pretty shitty stuff, but I let it go in one ear and out the other. I know I’ll never have a positive relationship with them, but hopefully the phone calls will stop after a while. It’s a start.”
“You sound good.”
I play with the fork on the table, moving it up and down. “I’m not saying I’m completely better. I still got lost in a bottle last night, but at least I didn’t send them any money. That’s progress.”
“That is progress. What’s next?”
“Getting rid of these black eyes.”
“And then . . .?” Bram asks, leading me to my next topic of conversation.
“And then I see if Sutton wants me back.”
“She will. Are you going to do that tonight?”
I gesture to my eyes. “What did I just tell you?”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long. It’s already been close to two weeks. You don’t want her to build up hostility toward you. And since I’m pretty sure Sutton and her dad have a seriously close relationship, she probably knows her dad talked to you.”
“Oh shit,” I say as dread starts to fill the pit of my stomach. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah. If she knows you talked to him, and you two are cool with each other, she probably thinks you don’t want her anymore. Wondering why didn’t show up at her doorstep immediately after talking with Foster.”
Sutton and Foster are super close. She’s the reason he came to see me, because she told him the truth. So she knows I met with Foster. Fuck.
The last thing I want her to think is I don’t love her anymore, even after her dad spoke to me, gave me his blessing, that I still don’t want her.
I glance at Bram who nods. “Yeah, you can leave. I’ll order something to-go for me and Julia.”
“Thanks.” I stand and start to move away when Bram stops me.
“Hold up.” He nods at my chest. “Lose the tie, you look like an idiot in it.”
Laughing, I loosen the knot, pull the tie over my head, and toss it at Bram who looks at the label.
“Stefano Ricci. Nice. This thing is expensive.”
“Consider it a thank you.”
“A thank you? For what?”
With a smile, I say, “For being a constant in my life.”
“Dude,” he breathes out, “don’t you make me fucking cry.”
I roll my eyes and leave the restaurant with one thing on my mind: getting Sutton back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dear Yori,
That is the name my parents were originally going to give me. Yori. What kind of name is that? Not a strong one, that’s for damn sure.
Do you know what I love about New York City? It’s alive all hours of the day.
Do you know what I hate about New York City?
Traffic, especially when stuck on the Brooklyn Bridge when I’m trying to get to my girl. I’ve been in this damn cab for over an hour, listening to the same damn ads on the TV in front of me over and over again because the touchscreen doesn’t work, and I can’t turn the volume off. After an hour, I’m just about convinced this could be considered psychological torture and I should turn this cab driver in to the proper authorities.
I needed a distraction, so that’s why I’m typing in my notes app as my knee bounces up and down impatiently. I thought that maybe writing down my feelings might help me figure out what I’m going to say to Sutton when I see her, but frankly, I can’t think of a damn thing other than: I’m sorry, please take me back, and I love you so goddamn much.
I know that should be good enough, but a part of me thinks it’s not. Sutton is special. She deserves a big declaration. Then again, when has she ever been that girl? She even paid for some of our meals when we were out, even when I told her not to.