Chapter 3 3

The car rolled to a stop in front of the peeling white paint of her father's house. The lawn was overgrown, dandelions choking out the grass.

Carmine put the car in park. He reached for his door handle.

"I'll come in," he said.

"No," Kiley said quickly. Too quickly. She unbuckled her seatbelt, her movements jerky. "I want to tell them myself first."

Carmine looked at her, his dark eyes assessing. He nodded slowly. "I'll be right here. Call if you need me."

Kiley took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the familiar scent of suburbia and exhaust fumes. She pushed the car door open and walked up the cracked concrete path.

Inside, the television was blaring a game show. The volume was high enough to rattle the windows.

She pushed the front door open.

Joyce, her stepmother, was sitting on the beige sofa, a bottle of bright pink nail polish in her hand. The smell of acetone hung heavy in the air. Tiffany, her stepsister, was sprawled on the recliner, scrolling through her phone, chewing gum with her mouth open.

Her father wasn't there. He was never there.

Joyce looked up, the brush hovering over her pinky nail.

"Did Javon transfer the wedding sponsor money yet?" she asked. No hello. No 'how are you'.

Kiley felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. "Me and Javon broke up."

Joyce's hand jerked. The bottle of polish tipped over, spilling pink sludge onto the coffee table.

"What?!" Joyce shrieked. "Are you insane? He was a gold mine!"

Tiffany didn't even look up from her phone. She popped a bubble. "Told you Javon would dump her. He can do way better."

Kiley felt her hands curl into fists at her sides. Her nails dug into her palms.

"He cheated," Kiley said, her voice rising. "And... I'm married."

The room went dead silent. The only sound was the cheering audience from the TV.

Joyce stood up, her face twisting. "Married? To who? That mechanic from down the street? The one with the grease under his nails?"

"No," Kiley said.

"Well, who is it?" Joyce demanded, stepping over the spilled polish. "Does he have money? Can he cover the fifty thousand Javon promised for the house repairs?"

Kiley felt like she was suffocating. The air in the room was too hot, too thick. They didn't care about her. They didn't care that her heart had been ripped out hours ago. They only cared about the check.

"I have to go," Kiley whispered.

"You walk out that door, you ungrateful brat, and don't you come back asking for a dime!" Joyce yelled.

Kiley turned and ran. She burst out the front door, gasping for air.

She didn't go to Carmine's car. She couldn't face him right now. She turned left and sprinted toward the bus stop at the end of the block. She just needed to get away.

A sleek black car pulled up alongside her, moving at a walking pace. The passenger window rolled down.

"Get in," Carmine said. His voice wasn't asking.

Kiley wiped her eyes aggressively. "I'm fine. I'm taking the bus."

Carmine stopped the car. He got out, walked around the hood, and opened the passenger door. He didn't touch her, but his presence blocked her path.

"Get. In."

Kiley glared at him, but the fight was draining out of her. She slid into the leather seat.

"Where?" he asked as he got back in.

"Sunnyvale Nursing Home," she mumbled.

The drive was silent. When they arrived, the smell of antiseptic washed over her. It was sharp and chemical, but to Kiley, it smelled like safety. It was the only place she was loved.

She walked into Room 304.

Grandma Rose was lying in the bed, a clear tube running under her nose. Her skin looked like parchment paper, fragile and translucent.

Kiley pulled up the plastic chair and took her grandmother's hand. It was cold.

"Hi, Grandma," she whispered.

Rose's eyelids fluttered open. They were cloudy, but they focused on Kiley's face.

"Kiley..." Her voice was a dry rasp.

"I have news," Kiley said, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack her face. "I got married. To a... a good man."

She didn't mention Javon. She didn't mention the cheating. She couldn't break Rose's heart.

Rose squeezed her hand, a weak pressure. "Bring him... let me see."

Kiley froze. She hadn't thought this far ahead. Carmine was in the car. He wouldn't want to come into this depressing room. He wouldn't want to play pretend for a dying woman. He was just here for the insurance papers, not for the emotional baggage.

The door creaked open.

Kiley turned.

Carmine was standing there. In his hands was a massive bouquet of white lilies.

Kiley stared at him. When did he buy flowers? Did he stop on the way? Or did he have someone bring them? It didn't make sense, but she was too grateful to question it.

He walked into the room, the heavy trench coat making him look out of place among the beige medical equipment. He placed the flowers on the bedside table and bent down.

The hardness in his face vanished. His eyes softened.

"Grandma," he said, his voice gentle. "I'm Carmine."

He took Rose's other hand. He didn't flinch at the dryness of her skin or the smell of sickness.

Rose looked from Kiley to Carmine. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. She pulled their hands together, placing Kiley's on top of Carmine's.

"Good," she whispered. "Good."

Kiley looked at their joined hands. Carmine's thumb brushed against her knuckle, a slow, reassuring stroke.

Tears pricked her eyes again. She looked at this stranger, this man she had married in a fit of rage, and felt something warm bloom in her chest.

Gratitude.