Leonard's expression shifted, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Naomi changed it. She's young. It's just a silly thing girls do."
Always the same excuse.
I stared at the custom sticker on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat—*Reserved for Nomi*—the words seared into my eyes like a brand.
Every single fight I'd ever picked over that sticker, and Leonard always came back with the same lines.
*She's young, she's immature—why are you acting just as childish?*
*Go ahead, rip it off. She'll stick a new one up. What's the point?*
*Would it kill you to just let her have this? It's a sticker. It's nothing.*
When it came to Naomi, I was always the one being ridiculous in Leonard's eyes—always the jealous girlfriend throwing a fit over nothing.
Six months of swallowed grievances, too many to count.
I rolled my eyes and didn't bother responding, just watched him pick up the phone.
"What's wrong, Nomi?"
Gone was every trace of the cold hostility he'd just shown me. The moment he spoke, his voice was gentle. Concerned.
I could hear muffled whimpering on the other end. Leonard sat up straight, tension pulling his shoulders tight.
"Okay. I'm coming right now."
He hung up and unlocked the doors.
"Naomi's apartment is flooding. I need to get over there."
"Take a cab home."
He spun the wheel and made a U-turn. "The surgery's settled. Quit with the act."
"Gone is gone. I mean, come on—what do you think tits are for? They're for men."
"*I* don't even mind you not having them. So what's your problem?"
Something detonated inside my skull.
Before I could get a word out, he'd already unbuckled my seatbelt and shoved me out of the car.
Dust kicked up behind the tires as he pulled away. I stood there on the roadside, unable to come back to myself for a long, long time.
Eight years. And maybe I was only now seeing who Leonard Delgado actually was.
Even the sky seemed to be in on it. I hadn't walked ten steps before the rain came down in sheets.
Leonard's car was still sitting at the red light up ahead. One second. Two. Three. The light changed, and the car shot forward without a moment's hesitation.
He kept saying he was worried about my illness. But one word from Naomi, and he could leave me standing sick in the rain without looking back.
He didn't even leave me an umbrella.
The walk home was endless.
I don't know how I made it back.
All I knew was that Leonard and I were truly over.
When I reached the door of our shared condo, it was slightly ajar. Through the gap came the sound of laughter. A man's voice and a woman's.
I pushed the door open. Leonard and Naomi both turned around at the same time.
Leonard said nothing. His gaze landed on me, dripping wet, and his brow creased.
Naomi let out a little gasp. "Oh, Connie, sweetie—what happened to you?"
"You absolutely cannot be getting rained on in your condition! If you come down with a fever, the surgery the day after tomorrow won't happen…"
So the surgery was the day after tomorrow.
Funny. My flight was the day after tomorrow too.
The moment he heard that, Leonard panicked.
He grabbed a bath towel and a hairdryer and rushed over, caught my arm, and shoved me down onto the couch.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I told you to take a cab!"
"If you ruin this surgery for Naomi, I'm telling you right now—this wedding is off."
The hairdryer roared. Every word out of his mouth drove into me like a needle.
It hurt.
My body didn't matter to him.
What mattered was Naomi's surgery.
In Leonard's eyes, my breast was Naomi's entry ticket—her one shot at keeping her place at Provincial General Hospital.
"Go take a shower. Don't catch a cold."
"These next few days, take care of yourself. No colds. No fevers."
He gave me another push.
Naomi smiled from the side of the room, chiming in helpfully with one pre-surgery reminder after another.
