Chapter 11
The phone lay face-down on the glass coffee table. That was the first thing I noticed when the doorbell rang.
It was seven o'clock exactly. I knew because the microwave clock glowed 7:00 behind Gloria's shoulder and the arc lamp hummed faintly in the quiet we'd finally made.
The bell rang twice, quick and familiar, then knuckles followed. Voices came through the door, muffled by the wood.
"Marco? Gloria said seven. We're here."
Vanessa smiled. She didn't stand up from the edge of the gray sofa. She just looked at Marco and crossed her arms in that way that said she'd already won.
She'd been waiting for that sound since Gloria's text had gone out hours ago.
Marco didn't move at first. He stood in the center of the living room in that same black suit and gray tie, his shoulders tight. Leo was pressed against my side, his forehead damp against my neck, his little hand fisted in my black sleeveless top. I could feel his breathing, fast and shallow, against my collarbone.
"That's my cousin," Marco said quietly. He was looking at the door, not at Vanessa. "And my aunt."
The voices outside tried again, a little louder, cheerful in the way people get when they think they're helping. "Hello? We brought extra food. Gloria said Leo wasn't doing well."
Gloria sat very still on the sofa, her hands empty now, her beige blouse creased where she'd been holding that black smartphone for hours. She stared at the face-down phone like it might ring on its own. She didn't answer the door. She didn't look at Vanessa.
I shifted Leo higher on my hip. My legs ached from sitting on the floor all afternoon.
Marco took a step toward the entryway and then stopped. He looked back at me. I didn't say anything. I just held Leo tighter and stepped closer, so I was right behind Marco's shoulder. Close enough that the warmth of his suit jacket brushed my arm.
Vanessa's smirk thinned. "Well, open it," she said. "They drove over. Don't be rude."
Marco's hand hovered near the deadbolt. For a second I thought he would turn it, the way he'd always turned toward them before when they called. The hallway outside went quiet, waiting.
He didn't open the door.
Instead he leaned his forehead almost to the wood and spoke through it, his voice low and steady. He kept one hand on the lock, holding it closed.
"Hey, I hear you. Thank you for coming. Not tonight, okay? Elena and Leo need quiet tonight. We're going to handle this ourselves here. I'll call you tomorrow."
That was it. One exchange. No explanation, no debate through the crack. Just the words and the closed door between us and them.
Outside, there was a pause. I heard a woman's soft laugh, confused. "Marco? Is everything okay? Gloria said—"
"I know what she sent," Marco said, still not opening. His voice didn't rise. "I love you for showing up. But not tonight. Please go home. I'll explain tomorrow."
Leo made a small sound against my neck, not quite a word, and buried his face deeper. I rested my chin on his dark hair and kept my eyes on Marco's back. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand gripped the lock like he was afraid it might turn on its own.
I reached out with my free hand and touched the back of Marco's arm, just between his shoulder blades. He didn't move away. He pressed back, just slightly, so I knew he felt me there.
Behind us, Vanessa stood up abruptly. The glass coffee table rattled when her knee bumped it.
"You cannot be serious," she said, her voice sharp. "They're family. You called them. Your mother called them because she was worried about Leo."
Gloria finally looked up. Her eyes were red. "Vanessa," she said, very quietly, "that's enough."
The voices outside had gone quiet again. Then footsteps, a murmur, the soft thud of a car door closing out in the lot. Someone said, "Call us then," and then the hallway was empty.
Marco stayed at the door for a long breath, his head still near the wood, listening to make sure they were really gone. The apartment felt small and too bright, the sheer curtains still diffusing that late warm light across the living room floor where Leo and I had sat crying hours earlier.
He turned around. He didn't look at Vanessa. He looked at me, and at Leo still clutched in my arms. His stern expression from that afternoon had softened into something tired and determined.
May you like
"We stay in tonight," he said to me, not to the room. "Just us."
I nodded. I couldn't speak yet. Leo's tears had dampened the front of my top. I held him with both arms now and let Marco step the last half-step closer, so the three of us were in the narrow entryway together, facing the locked door, with the sofa and the two women behind us and the empty hall beyond. For the first time that day, we were the ones on the same side of the threshold.
