“I think it’s good that we’ve moved to twice a week,” she says, standing. “We’ll pick this up Friday.”
I don’t want to go. I need her more than I need oxygen.
But I have to wait.
“See you Friday,” I manage, stepping out of the room—forcing myself not to look back.
9
You’re Perfect
Emily's Search History: How to tell your parents they’re not really helping you?
Emily
“Darling!”mydadgreetsthe second my thumb tapsaccepton his call.
“Hi, Dad.” A genuine smile tugs at my lips at the sound of his voice.
“How are you? We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
I wince. “I know. Sorry—I’ve just been busy.”Busy doing fuck all, I nearly snort to myself. “How’s Mum?”
There’s some shuffling on the line before her voice comes through.
“I’m here, love. We miss you.”
“Miss you guys too.”
My parents moved us to Italy when I was sixteen. At first, I was devastated—leaving my friends, my school, my life. But I adjusted quickly, learning the language, embracing the culture.
I would’ve never come back if it weren’t for her.
Gianna.
I thought she loved me. Thought she cared.
I was an idiot.
She shattered me so completely that I left the place I’d come to call home—left my job, my parents… even my cat.
“How’s Graham?” I ask, needing something warm.
Dad switches the call to FaceTime, and suddenly my screen is filled with my beautiful British Blue shorthair, his perfect pineapple eyes staring into the camera. My dad’s wrinkled, smiling face pops in beside him.
“Hi, baby!” I coo. “I’ve missed you.”
“We just wanted to check in,” Mum says, snatching the phone from Dad. “We’re worried about you, Em.”
“I’m fine. Work’s just been hectic lately.”
“Any interesting clients?”
My cheeks warm as Eli flickers through my mind.
“You know I can’t talk about that,” I say, avoiding her gaze.
She scoffs but lets it go. For a second.