AYLA
Disoriented wasn't word enough to describe the chaos taking root in my mind.
Did God hand out birthdays with a twist of unhappiness?
In less than twenty-four hours, I'd been greeted with the news of Dad's death; an insinuation from Don Cassian my mother was alive; my almost involvement in the attack in Don Cassian's penthouse; Kevin's bloodied furs.
I sat on the floor in front of our apartment as Millie appeared on the stairs with Peter.
"Ayla?"
"Hey," I said, getting up, looking like I was fucking stoned.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady." Millie's voice clipped as she opened the apartment door.
Her eyes didn't register the ripped part of my top.
Not yet.
She was ranting. Pissed.
"Have any idea how long I've been…" Millie gestured between her and Peter, "how long we've been searching for you?"
"I'm really sorry for disappearing like that."
Millie shook her head. "I think it's now a habit. You've done it before, remember?"
Shit!
