CHAPTER 3.2

I looked into my disorganized living room after turning my back to the door.

I also believed that he definitely felt the trembling.

My home was a former farmstead that previously adorned fields, but it was now located in a neighborhood of much newer homes, or those constructed within the previous fifty years, on the outskirts of Metro Manila.

My house featured a living room that stretched the length of the front after you got past the entryway's slender walls and amazing stained glass. A dining room or den existed to the right behind sliding inlaid glass doors, although it was empty at the time. Unoccupied area. A large kitchen's swinging doorway is to the left. Three bedrooms and a huge bathroom were upstairs, along with a slightly tiny bedroom that I turned into my office.

I was not allowed to move in by my father until he and his friend Rob had renovated the bathroom. He said that the bathtub was about to fall through the floor and that is why. Considering how much he detested my place and still does, I felt he was being theatrical. Even yet, my father was not a theatrical guy, so I truly don't know why I had this impression. I shouldn't have been shocked when the bathtub crashed through the floor of the bathroom as they were renovating it.

Dad then renovated my bathroom, naturally after rebuilding the floor, and it was really lovely now with a claw-footed tub, a pedestal sink, heated towel racks, and everything. He also redone the wood plank flooring in my office and bedroom as well as the re-skimmed the walls in both spaces. Melinda and I painted my bedroom, and she also created me wonderful roman blinds for my office and the windows in my bedroom. My workplace was decorated by me and my buddy Antonette. After that, I started the exciting part of the renovation: Dad went to the kitchen, where he worked with Enrico, while Mom continued to decorate the room. The completion of this took five months since both of them were distracted by other issues, such as their personal life, the faucet in my downstairs half-bath not shutting off, the roof leaking, the light switch in my bedroom not functioning, and the furnace breaking down, etc.

But now the kitchen was fantastic, with cabinets painted a buttery cream, a large battered rectangular farm table in the middle with six chairs, butcher block countertops, and fabulous appliances that Dad sourced for me on the cheap through his construction network and because they were damaged but in places you couldn't see them. It was embellished with a quirky twist on country charm. The kitchen was an old farmhouse kitchen, so it needed country, and there were occasions when I could be whimsical, even though I was by no means country.

In order to make chocolate chip cookie dough, I walked to my kitchen after ML had left. I then brought the bowl, a spoon, and a cup of coffee to the table and picked up my phone.

I then sat down, one heel on the chair and one on the floor, and I just gazed at it.

Call Micah, I should. Micah spoke truth to power. She was wise. She was intelligent and well-traveled. Ryan, a police officer, and Micah had been dating for five years and were living together. Because Ryan and Micah both had attitudes, the relationship was nice and loving yet difficult. But if they ever split up, it would be like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell splitting up—proof that the end of the world was just around the corner.

However, Micah was well aware of ML, and she believed that I was partially insane for allowing him to approach me in the middle of the night while remaining completely unaware of his identity. She continually urged me to kick him in the gonads and phone the police during my very next visit, both of which I did.

Hmm.

I might even call Antonette. The romantic Antonette was. Antonette wasn't a direct speaker. Antonette would sooner be tortured than say something that might make you feel uneasy or upset. Even though all three of Antonette's lovers were jerks, she stuck with them because she lacked the courage to stop her relationships with them. My dear Antonette didn't have a backbone, so she put up with a lot of crap at work before becoming bored and moving on, which she regularly did.

Antonette also cherished the concept of ML. She was sure that one day he would reach out, switch on the light, frame my face with his hands, and tell me that I was the reason the sun rose and set for him. He would then marry me in a fairy tale wedding and treat me like a princess for the rest of my days. She was quite certain that this would happen even after all this time had passed, and she never wavered in her conviction. She'd definitely dance in excitement at ML's most recent visit. She would never recognize it for the abrupt, obtrusive, and utterly irritating thing that it was.

Enrico terrified me off after what ML stated about him, so I was unable to call him. It had always just been Enrico. Prior to Micah and Antonette, there was Enrico. Enrico was there before I met Jonas De Ryann, during our courtship, during our marriage, and after Jonas De Ryann broke my heart.

Enrico was a buddy, and the idea that he could want to pee in my trousers terrified me nearly as much as everything else that day.

I prepared some dough while focusing on my phone.

Then, after dropping the spoon and picking up the phone, I forced the dough into my mouth. This was the first wise move I had made since ML's hand had struck the small of my back the previous evening.

I placed the phone to my ear after dialing and swallowing.

Micah said, "What's up, girl."

Last night, "The Great ML visited."

Silence. Nope—complete quiet.

"Girl," next, and then nothing.

He returned today as well; he was around when I arrived back from something and he just departed a short while ago.

Even more silence, this time feeling more complete as though the world's noise were being sucked into a vacuum.

I yelled into the void, "Mic?"

She questioned, "He just departed twenty minutes ago."

Yes, I replied.

He was there while it was daytime, she questioned.

Yes, I replied.

And his skin didn't burn at all? she questioned.

I smiled as I said, "Nope.”

“What happened?”

It was then that I explained it all out for her, from yesterday night through Arlene, Big Ben, and Finn, to The Great ML's surprise visit, loving talk, and delicate explanation of our relationship's boundaries.

When I was done, she murmured, "Shit."

"Shit what?" I inquired.

"Girl, I know about Andrew Fontanilla, aka Finn, the current leader of the Mayhem MC, and I understand you don't want to go there. Rumor has it he's spent his term tryin' to clean up the club, with some accomplishment, but clean for those boys does not have the same meaning as it does for the rest of the population. They call themselves Mayhem for a reason, and these boys are not like other boys.

Oh boy.

"Well, I didn't exactly set up a date with him," I pointed out.

"And never, ever. Once you enter that world, there's no way back. You get me?"

Yikes.

"He was frightening, Mic, and I'm not going there," I informed her.

"God, I hope not," she responded, implying she didn't believe me. But I'd met her in the midst of my divorce, so she was well aware of Jonas, who was both hot and a terrible jerk. And she was well aware of ML, who was also attractive, much hotter than Jonas, and was proving to be of the Jonas persuasion, namely a jerk.

Mic said, "I'll speak to Ryan and see what I can learn about your sister. I listened to her take a large breath and I knew what that big breath meant. "The one thing I can say about ML is that he offered you solid advise. You need to lie low. Isabelle is Isabelle and she's been headin' down a path that's leadin' her to major problems and looks she found it." She was about to say something that I wouldn't appreciate. Although Micah was direct in her speech, this did not imply that she lacked compassion. Did she? the most compassionate.

As a result, she proceeded with caution. "I know she's your sister, but Isabelle Gomez doesn't care who she drags down with her and will use anybody as a shield to defend her tiny, white ass.

She's in difficulty, and if she gets a sense that she can exploit you in any way, sweetie, she'll do it without hesitation."

This was clearly correct.

"I am formally disowning her as of now," I announced.

"Finally," Mic grumbled.

"Call me after you speak with Ryan," I said.

"Gia?" she inquired.

"Yeah, girl," I said.

"I'll also talk to him about ML."

Oh No. No way. Dad and Melinda were unaware about ML.

Enrico was unaware of ML. And Ryan Garcia was unaware of ML. Micah and Antonette were the only ones who knew about ML, and I'd promised them to silence.

This indicated a lot about me and how I felt about ML, primarily that I was embarrassed of what I was doing and why. It smacked of desperation and slut, two things no female should be.

Ever. Dad, Melinda, Enrico, and Ryan were all people I adored. I didn't want them to think I was a desperate slut.

"Gia -" Mic began.

"No, Mic, no, don't talk to Ryan about The Great ML," I said emphatically.

"All right, girl, listen to me," she said forcefully back. "This man can stroll through doors. This guy has the means to probe you and keep tabs, so now I know this guy has to be on the grid, and if he's on the grid, Ryan can get a hold on him."

"Perhaps, but I don't want Ryan to get a hold of him."

"Why?" she inquired, growing irritated. "He looked into you."

"That may be true, but as of today, I am formally disowning my sister and terminating my twisted up, non-relationship with The Great Mysterious Lover. It's done. It's completely finished."

Silence once again.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Really, Mic?" I exclaimed. "I told you how he spoke to me, what he claimed about our connection, and how he probed me.

He knows everything about me. He claims only he has the authority to terminate things. He won't tell me his name. That scenario was completely insane before, and now that it has, wake up call. It's finished."

"I hope so, girl. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There are hot guys out there who aren't motherfucking assholes. They don't use you to get off. There are men out there who know how to treat a woman right and you're going to find one, babe, but the only way you can do that is to scrape off the one who doesn't."

Straight-talker Micah Vasquez was there. And Micah Vasquez, the astute young lady who has her head screwed on straight.

"Well, today was the day of enlightenment; Isabelle and The Great ML are no longer," I said triumphantly.

Mic responded, "Hallelujah."

We hung up after ten minutes. After that, I sat at my table, spooned some dough, ate it, and glanced at my phone, hoping to make good on my bold claim.

Then I took up the phone and dialed Antonette's number.