In My Godfather’s Bed

Tabitha:

I dragged a box across the glossy floor and huffed.

“Be careful with that one!” I called out, watching one of the movers juggle my vanity mirror like it was a football. “It’s glass, not a damn frisbee.”

“Sorry, Miss Hyest,” the young lad muttered, adjusting his grip. I sighed, wiping sweat off my forehead. Moving sucked.

Moving into this place? Ten times worse.

The damn penthouse was massive, and every sound echoed like I was living inside a concert hall.

“Okay, that can go in my room,” I pointed upstairs where the double doors were already open.

They nodded as they carried the last box up.

"Finally," I let out a breath that came from the depths of my tired soul. I was doing less than 20% of the actual work, but even that was a Herculean task.

I plopped onto the couch, half-dying already.

Who knew telling people where to put stuff could be so exhausting?

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, but before I could grab it, the front door swung open. Nora.

Polished as ever, hair in a tight bun, blazer probably worth more than my entire wardrobe.

She was that kinda gyal.

“Miss Hyest, I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” She hurried in, setting her bag down on the console.

“Hey Nora,” I greeted, sitting up straighter.

“You’re fine. I was starting to think you’d ditched me.” I grinned and she smiled politely.

“Never. Mr. Ross asked me to check in.” I squinted.

Mr. Ross? Who was Mr Ross, oh Mr. Ross, my godfather and legal guardian. The man who owned half of Manhattan and somehow still made time to manage my life, but I knew him as Enzo.

I leaned back, twirling a loose strand of hair.

“Speaking of, where is he? I thought he’d be here.”

Nora blinked, looking caught off guard.

“Mr. Ross?” She asked and I nodded

“Yeah. Enzo.” Recognition clicked in her eyes.

“Ah. Yes. He had an impromptu meeting out of state. He won’t be back until Monday evening.” I blinked.

“So, it’s just me? All weekend?” She smiled again.

“Technically. The housekeeper’s off today too. But if you need anything, you can always call."

I groaned dramatically, tossing my head back against the couch.

“I should be hung on a stake if I ever do something to bother you." She shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Like I'm not paid for it." A lot. She was paid a whole friggin lot.

“Guess I’ll be throwing myself a solo penthouse party, huh?” Nora chuckled softly.

“Please try not to burn the place down.”

“No promises.” I laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure Mr. Ross wouldn't mind, anyways," she winked before leaving out the front door again, right where she came, leaving the young man who was helping me move in a frangled mess.

"She's pretty," I hummed.

He looked frantically at me like he'd just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar and hurried off.

The last box thudded shut somewhere upstairs.

“We’re done, Miss Hyest,” and I gave them a halfhearted wave from the couch.

“Thanks, guys, wanna stay for dinner?" I asked.

"Would've loved to, but you look like the type of girl who would poison us as an honest mistake." The leader of the team, blonde bearded man with a limp said. He wasn't wrong, and I told him so with a laugh.

"Sides, you're probably not going to be pleased getting off that chair for another half hour, so, best leave you be."

"I'll never forget your kindness," I said after them as they piled out of the house.

The door clicked shut behind them, and just like that, the penthouse fell into this weird kind of silence. Big, echoey, almost too still. Even my breath felt hollow.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and looked around, all that glass and marble, designer furniture, art pieces I couldn’t even pronounce. This was Enzo’s world and I was back in it.

Funny how life came full circle.

I leaned my head against the couch and closed my eyes.

Two years ago, I’d walked through these same doors with nothing but a suitcase and a heart that felt cracked in a thousand places.

“Tabby,” he’d said back then, God, I could still hear his voice. Deep. Warm. A little rough when he got emotional.

“You’ll never be alone. Not as long as I’m here.”

And the look in his eyes, I’d never forget it.

Sad. Not just the sadness of a man who lost his best friends, though that was there too. No, it was deeper, it was a raw aching guilt that he couldn’t take my pain away, that he couldn’t undo the worst day of my life.

Enzo had pulled me into a hug that night, no hesitation, no awkwardness.

I think he needed it as much as I did,maybe more. For a while, I believed him. I let myself believe he’d always be there but then, life happened, work and school became an excuse.

The moment the funeral was over and the bags were packed, I left for college and stayed away longer than I should’ve.

Every time he called, I’d find a reason not to visit.

It wasn’t about him.

It was about, me. About not wanting to face this place and all the memories that haunted it.

And still, he kept trying.

“Come home, Tabby,” he’d say over the phone. “I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do this alone.”

I bit my lip, a small, guilty smile tugging at my mouth and here I was now, back where I’d sworn I wouldn’t be.

The funnuest part about this whole thing was that this place that I had been running away from for so long, was the closest thing to home.

At some point, hunger won the battle over nostalgia.

I stood up with a stretch, stomach growling like a pissed-off bear.

“Alright, chef Tabby it is,” I muttered, heading toward the kitchen, remembering the movers' joke about me poisoning them.

The place looked more like a showroom than an actual kitchen, sleek, stainless steel everything, more buttons than I knew what to do with.

Enzo probably hadn’t touched a stove in years.

I grinned at the thought.

I rummaged through the freezer and found a tray of frozen lasagna.

“Perfect. Minimal effort.”

I preheated the oven and popped it in, setting the timer with what I hoped was enough time.

Then I padded upstairs.

Quick shower while that magic worked.

I cranked up the water, letting it run hot and steady.

For a few moments, I stood there, letting it all wash away.

The travel fatigue, unpacking stress, old ghosts,everything went down those drains.

I got lost in the heat, fingers trailing lazily through my hair. Maybe a little too lost.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. My eyes snapped open.

"Shit."

I killed the water, scrambling out, heart pounding. The goddamn smoke detector was screeching downstairs.

“Oh my God!” I grabbed my tank top and threw it on with a pantie, I yanked a towel off the rack, wrapping it tight around me.

Dripping wet, I bolted out of my room, water trailing in my wake.

The kitchen was a cloud of smoke.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hissed, coughing as I reached the oven.

“Please try not to burn the place down.” I remembered Nora's words and would have laughed at the irony of the outcome of things if it wouldn't flood my throat with smoke and suffocate me.

Through the haze, I could see the poor lasagna, edges charred like a campfire gone wrong.

No thinking, just panicking, I yanked the door open and grabbed the dish with my bare hands.

The searing pain hit instantly.

“Agh! Fuuudgeballs!” I screamed, dropping the dish with a loud clang on the counter.

Tears clouded my eyes as I clutched my burning palms.

“Tabby!” The voice came from somewhere in the room. Likely behind me, since it couldn't be from the smoke in front of me.

No human could survive in that.

But it was filled with worry - the voice. That much was obvious.