a ghost in

ry disputes" in the South Side, a vague enough excuse to sa

rst rule of sa

s. I searched for Isobel de Luca. Her profile was public. Of

photo from

matriarch was there, looking regal and approving.

y over the chair. He was smiling at something Isobel wa

ement. It was a possessive g

ike he belo

hand resting on her barely-there bump.

se in my throa

h was heavy. It was a claim of ownership, a reminder

of warmth. Ju

room and poured myself a glass of vodka. I didn't even like vodka. It tasted

one swallow.

vilian friends. The ones who thought Dante was a

tting next we

kly, my visi

on't ask. Please

of questions could hit me. I couldn't handle th

nt door

s 2:0

d dead when he saw me sitt

His nose wrinkled in

said. It wasn't an observ

said, my voice sounding

pped. He took a step back, as if my s

smells," he said, his tone clin

, brittle sound that sc

sn't here

hing past me. "I can't smell like cheap vodka.

espe

ffending her nose whil

dered. "You're emb

ightly, but I steadied mysel

who should be emb

g. "We need to have a Sit Down, Nina. We need

. The baby wasn

hing to disc

st bathroom and locked the door. I tur

I wanted to wash off the vodka. I wan

to wash