mrs. Adrian Emporio

LOLETTE.

It wasn’t a dream.

Those words kept repeating in my head all day after the night we spent together.

It was one thing to love Adrian when he was my closest friend, when he was just the kindest boy I'd ever met who stuck up for me like he was being paid to do it.

But that night, we crossed a line I didn’t think we’d ever be able to come back from.

It had only been two days. And he was all I could think about.

After getting his text yesterday morning, it made matters so much worse. He wanted us to meet at our usual spot––a restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, tonight.

How was I going to act around him now that we’d had sex?

Right after it happened, he cleaned me up and held me in his arms the entire night. The following morning, he drove me home at dawn, before either his parents or Mabel’s would notice I was with him the day before.

Other than the phone call we had before I went to bed that day, I hadn’t heard from him.

Until yesterday, when he arranged our date.

It wasn’t just a meet-up this time, it was an actual date. I couldn’t put into words how that made me feel.

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, I got out of my chair and walked over to where my phone was charging on my nightstand to check my messages.

It was already 9 a.m., and other than the one message I got from one of my friends, wishing me a happy birthday, there were no other notifications on my phone.

There was still no text from Adrian.

That wouldn't have been a big deal on any other day. And it wasn't even bugging me because we’d now entered romantic territory.

But because for the last two years, Adrian had been the one who wished me first, always at the strike of 12, never an hour later.

But the morning was almost over and he still hadn’t texted or called.

I chewed on my bottom lip.

I knew he was busy. I understood it.

I stared at our empty text thread for a little moment longer before putting my phone down and going back to my thesis.

––*––

When I walked past the entrance of the diner that night, I felt so naked.

My heels clicked on the linoleum floors as I walked further in. My shoulders were cold; the thin straps of my dress gave me zero warmth. I checked my phone again, looking at the time, looking for a notification.

It was pushing nine p.m., and Adrian still hadn’t texted.

Not at all.

I exhaled slowly as I found my seat at our usual booth. I reached up and fretted with my hair, shifting in my seat, my foot tapping nervously on the floor.

I watched the door with anticipation.

We’d agreed to meet at 8:30, but the minutes slipped by like hours.

The diner buzzed quietly around me as customers came and went, but I stayed rooted in that booth, gripping my phone like a lifeline.

I called Adrian five times in total. Each ring sent my heart racing and crashing all at once.

Every single time, his voicemail picked up.

I didn’t have the courage to leave a message after the beep. Something about admitting I was still waiting, alone, made me feel vulnerable in a way I wasn’t ready to face.

There was a sinking feeling inside me that grew more and more every time the automated voice told me to leave a message.

The waiter who had been polite earlier approached again, her sympathetic gaze softening as she cleared nearby tables. “We’re closing soon, Miss,” she said quietly. Defeat was a hard pill to swallow down as I gathered my bag, disappointment pressing down on my shoulders as I forced myself to say, “I think I’ll be going.”

Adrian had stood me up.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe deeply, fighting the sting of tears threatening to spill. I glanced down at my phone screen. Fifteen unanswered calls in total.

Was he intentionally shutting me out?

Would Adrian do that?

After...?

I swallowed thickly, hating the fear in my chest as I put my phone away.

When I finally got back to the house, I saw the kitchen lights were still on.

Cursing, I tried to sneak in quietly, hoping to avoid any confrontation with whoever was still up.

But the clatter of keys and a gruff voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Who’s there?” I cringed and stepped into the light, seeing my adoptive father leaning against the kitchen island.

A glass and a bottle of whiskey sat in front of him. His red eyes locked onto me, cold and bitter. “Back from whoring yourself like your mother used to?”

His words cut sharper than any blade.

Especially today.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to react.

It wasn’t the first time he’d called me a whore, nor the first time he’d dragged my dead mother’s name through the mud.

She passed away when I was just fourteen, and after a year of foster care, I was taken in by the Eastwoods. But enough conversations since my adoption made it clear to me that Mabel’s family knew my biological one.

Theodore Eastwood knew my mother.

And for some reason, he hated her.

I watched silently as he took a long, bitter swig straight from the bottle. The man was a respected doctor––retired, yes––but the owner of the most influential private hospital in the city.

And yet, here he was, hurling venom at the girl he adopted just for putting on makeup and wearing a dress.

His words slithered through the silence, heavy and poisonous.

“I’m tired, I just want to go to bed,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His glare deepened, sharp in the dim light of the kitchen. “Are you talking back to me?”

I bit my lip, heart pounding. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

He snorted derisively. “Of course you are, working on your back all day.”

Those words stabbed at me, sharper than his other insults.

But I said nothing, knowing calling him out for all the nasty titles he gave me would do nothing but make him angrier.

Give him more reason to hit me.

I clenched my jaw until he finally dismissed me with a wave. And then I retreated to my room, hating myself for letting the weight of his bitterness settle into my bones.

Once inside, I checked the clock.

It was past midnight. The day was over.

My birthday was over.

Not once had my phone beeped during that exchange downstairs, not once had Adrian reached out.

I slumped onto the edge of my bed, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles ached. Tears welled, and I was getting closer and closer to letting them fall.

Something was wrong.

And first thing tomorrow, I was going to find out what.

––*––

From the moment I opened my eyes, all I could hear was the commotion.

It didn’t stop me from checking my phone first though, letting my hopes crash and burn when I still saw nothing from Adrian.

I crept downstairs and overheard Mabel’s mother on the phone, “I’m so sorry for the short notice,” she said, “but this needs to be perfect.”

Were they having a party?

The staff buzzed around, moving in flurries of frantic energy. Once I got to the dining room, Mabel was surrounded by her friends, excitement practically radiating off her as she shuffled through a pile of magazines.

When she caught sight of me, her smile widened, and I felt the hairs on my neck stand up.

“What’s going on?” I asked cautiously.

Mabel folded her arms on the table, “We’re making plans for my upcoming wedding.” 

I blanched, in confusion. “Wedding? Since when are you engaged?”

She shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “People’s lives move on, even if you live in your own bubble.” Her smile twisted cruelly. “But if you must know, it’s in three weeks. I can’t wait to live with my husband. I just know he’ll be the best partner.”

Her gaze locked on mine suddenly, “After all, he treats trailer trash like you just fine.”

My stomach churned violently.

I knew who she was engaged to?

Mabel’s smile only grew. “But all that will have to end once I’m an Emporio. No way I can have my husband associating with the likes of you.”

My ears rang and my mind struggled to keep up.

She was marrying one of the Emporios?

She grinned knowingly, resting a hand on her chin. “Still hasn’t sunk in?”

Before I could ask for clarity, or even find it myself, she spelled it out carefully, like a teacher correcting a slow student.

And I wasn’t prepared.

I wasn’t prepared at all for my entire world to come crashing down at my feet.

“In a couple weeks’ time, sister,” Mabel grinned, “I’m going to be Mrs. Adrian Emporio.”