“Don't you put this shit on me. You spent all day together. You walked around. You talked. All things that were in the original plan,” he pointed out. Mischa rolled her eyes.
“Sometimes plans go differently when they're put into motion!”
“No. No, they don't. I live my life by plans, and you know what? You make a plan, you follow a plan, you execute a plan. So far, you've only accomplished step one,” he informed her.
“You know what? Whatever, it's too late. Bitch all you want, the day is done, it's after ten o'clock. Tomorrow, I promise,” she swore to him.
“Did you fuck him?”
She was shocked.
“Is that a real fucking question!?” she demanded.
“Of course it is. You cheated on him with me, who's to say you won't cheat on me with him!?”
She felt as if she'd been slapped. She yanked the phone away from her ear and hung up.
How the fuck could he say that to me!? How dare he fucking say that to me! Who the fuck does he think he is!? What the fuck does he think is happening between us!?
Mischa clenched her teeth together and let out a mock shriek, pacing double time between the walls.
It's a very valid point. You're the bad guy here. Not Mike. Not Tal. Just you. Don't get angry. Understand where he's coming from, and move past it.
When her phone rang, she answered it.
“I'm sorry,” Tal immediately said, his voice even and flat.
“I'm sorry, too,” she managed to respond in an equally even, flat tone.
“Fuck, Misch,” he groaned, the flatness falling away. “I'm just … I know it's hard for you, I know. But it isn't exactly fucking easy for me, knowing you're up there with him. Knowing he's gonna sleep next to you tonight. What if he touches you!? What if he wakes you up the way I woke you up!? I'll fucking kill him.”
“Stop it, no you won't. And he won't do that, either, he's not like that. And even if he randomly decided to be, I won't let him. I promise you. You and me, right? You said that. You said it,” she reminded him.
“I know, I know. It's just … hard.”
They were both silent for a while and Mischa put her back against the wall before sliding down it, lowering herself so she sat on the floor.
“When I came to Italy,” she started, her voice thick. “I had my plan. But nothing went according to that plan. When I slept with you, that didn't go according to plan. Nothing has gone the way I thought it would, and nothing was easy like I thought it would be.”
“That's not true,” his voice was soft.
“All of it's true,” she sighed.
“Falling for you was the easiest thing I've ever done,” he whispered. She managed a watery smile and picked at the edge of her dress.
“Yeah. Yeah, there's that,” her voice was barely above a breath.
“Promise me you'll talk to him tomorrow,” the hard edge was back in Tal's voice. She nodded.
“I promise. I've already told him that after breakfast we're going to the beach. Nothing else, no other stops, just the beach,” she assured him, running her fingers up her leg and clasping her knee.
“If I don't hear from you by noon, I'm gonna call the room,” Tal warned her.
“I don't appreciate being threatened,” she snapped.
“I don't appreciate being shoved into the background.”
Touché, Mr. Canaan.
“Alright, alright. If you don't hear from me by noon, feel free to call. Would it make it easier if you had his cell phone number?” she couldn't keep the sarcasm from dripping off her words.
“I already have it. Noon.”
Then the line went dead.
How does he know everything!?
Mischa's foot tapped out a staccato beat on the cobblestones. She chewed on her bottom lip and tugged at a lock of hair. A blind person would've been able to tell how nervous she was; Mike just kept shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“Hey, wanna go for a run on the beach?” he asked.
“Huh?” she hadn't been paying attention to him.
“A run, on the beach. You said you wanted to go to the beach,” he reminded her.
The beach. The beach where I might have fallen in love. The beach where I'm going to end our love. I'll never be able to go to a beach again.
“Oh. Yeah. No, no running, Mikey,” she told him. He glanced over his sunglasses at her.
“Remember how gung ho you were about exercising before you left,” he said in a careful voice.
“Excuse me!?”
“I'm not trying to be a dick, babe, but you were so determined to lose weight. You don't wanna gain it all back while you're here,” he pointed out. She sat up and put her hands on her hips.
“Are you implying that I've gained weight?” she asked, glaring at him.
“No. Well, I mean, maybe a couple pounds, which is fine, you look fine. But it only takes a couple more on top of that, and then you're right back where you were,” he warned her.
Fuck this.
“Are you done?” she snapped, standing up from the table.
“What? I just started, I -,”
Mischa walked away from the table.
He caught up to her outside, laughing and giving her a quick sideways hug.
“C'mon, sweets, don't be mad at me,” he begged in his baby voice, kissing the side of her neck. She resisted the urge to push him away.