I can't sleep. I've been tossing and turning in bed for the last two hours, and despite the fact that I have to be up in 5 hours for work, my eyes refuse to shut. I know that I'm going to have to pay for it tomorrow when I'm dragging my feet across the floor, but for now, my eyes are wide open, I'm leaning on the right side of my body, and my hands are placed underneath my pillow.

I wonder at what point Nico was going to tell me about his parent's anniversary celebration. Or the fact that they aren't going through with their divorce anymore...not that it's any of my business. But he really waited until the last second. He was right though, when he said that his parents find any excuse that they can to throw a party. I've been to a few Bradford events in my lifetime, and let me tell you, they're pretty out-of-this world. I'm nowhere near rich, but you can't help but feel like royalty when you step foot into a Bradford party. Women are dressed in gowns; men in tuxedos. There's a live band, fire performers...escargot being served on silver platters, for crying out loud. Knowing Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary won't be any different. If anything, it'll be even more opulent. I hate to say this, but Nico's parents are all about show. To them, it's not about how unhappy you are on the inside, but how happy you look on the outside.

I've always been dumbfounded by the fact that Nico is nothing like his parents. He's not spoiled, and he's definitely not a liar. He's intelligent, and my guess is that he picked up on his parents' flaws growing up and knew that he wanted to be nothing like them when he got older.

Knowing I won't be able to fall asleep until I text him, I reach for my phone on the nightstand and hold it above my head.

Me: Just curious, was it going to take my mom coming home to find you in our house at 12 AM for you to hand over the invitation?

Assuming that I won't hear from Nico until the morning, I go to drop my phone on the nightstand. But right as I do, my phone lights up with a text from him.

Nico: I was doing you a favor by not handing it to you, BC.

Me: Yeah? How do you figure?

Nico: That party will be the farthest thing from a celebration of love. It's just a façade.

My thumbs twiddle as I think about how to respond. But Nico beats me to the punch.

Nico: Goodnight, BC.

I know that this party is bothering Nico, hence the fact that he doesn't want to talk about it. The thing with Nico is, he feels deeply, but, sometimes, he downplays it to be strong. So, while I normally wouldn't press someone who doesn't want to talk about something, with Nico it's different. He needs pressing. And I'm going to press.

Me: I'm coming over tomorrow after work. Make sure you're home.

***

I find myself counting down the seconds until work ends. I can't stop thinking about Nico. How's he's feeling about the party; how he's feeling about his parents in general. Their marriage has always been a sore topic with him, so I always try to tread lightly around it. Nico does talk to me about how his parents' basically non-existent relationship affects him, but to a limit. I know that he still bottles a lot in.

Gillian Bradford has always been the "perfect" wife, and I put perfect in quotations because it's her version of what perfect means. In my eyes, she's far from it.

There are many facets to what makes a great mother, but a major one involves being there wholeheartedly for your children in times of need; making them feel loved. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for Gillian Bradford - or for Nico. If an expensive brunch with friends at the country club conflicted with Nico's extracurricular activities, you better believe that she chose dining on overly priced food over her own son.

And Mark Bradford...well, let me put it this way...the guy's an ass. The way that he speaks to Nico is just not acceptable. It's condescending and belittling, and nothing that someone like Nico, who's only been respectful and appreciative towards his dad, deserves.

And Nico's parents' marriage...it's a hot mess behind closed doors. Nico's told me about the verbal fights, the cheating, the lying. And if I had the power to erase that from his life, I wouldn't even think twice. I'd erase it completely.

I have mom drop me to Nico's house. When she asks me how long I'll need, I tell her I'm not sure. Worse comes to worse, I'll call an Uber.

Nico never answered my last text, so I'm hoping he's home. I guess I'm about to find out.

I ring the doorbell and Hayley answers. "Bella, hi," she greets me in her all black uniform.

"Hi, Hayley," I smile, bobbing my head to see who's inside. "Is Nico home?"

"He's by the pool. Please," she waves me in with her hand, "come on in."

"Thanks," I say, and enter. A delicious aroma comes from the kitchen. "Smells good in here."

"Chef Taylor is cooking Nico's go-to. Homemade pizza and pasta."

"Italian," I say. "Nico's favorite cuisine."

"That's right," she says, looking at me. "Will you be joining us tonight?"

"Oh, no. I'm just here for a few hours."

"Right. Well, if that happens to change, we've got plenty of food to go around."

"Thanks, Hayley." I look around the room. "You said Nico's by the pool?"

"Yup."

"Great. Thanks."

Nico's laying on a pin-striped lounge chair wearing just a pair of blue swim trunks and reading The Alchemist. I remember Nico mentioning that the book was required reading for an English Lit class he's taking at Columbia. Like me, Nico has a passion for story-telling. He was always fascinated by movies, books, anything that involves characters and plots. If he had it his way, he'd be an editor of some sort. But he put that passion on the back-burner, knowing that his father had plans for him to take over the family business.

"Look at you being all studious," I tease as I make my way over to him.

He lowers the book down, and makes eye contact with me, then watches me walk over to him. "It's a pretty good book."

"Yeah, no kidding. It's an international bestseller."

He smirks at me as I take a seat on the chair next to him. "You always know everything?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Sometimes. The other times I just pretend to."

"Well, you had me fooled."

I rub my bare knees with my palms. It's so hot out that I'm sweating just being outside, despite wearing denim shorts and a light tank.

"So, how was your day?" I ask.

He looks at me skeptically and then says, "good?" like a question; like he's trying to figure out why I'm asking.

"That's good," I say, trying to decipher the best way to segue into this sensitive conversation. "You ready for this weekend?"

His skeptic expression turns frustrated. "Why are you asking me that, BC? You already know the answer."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he states, leaning his body forward and closing the book. Then he speaks to me in a sarcastic tone like I'm a stranger to him. "But thanks for asking."

"Nico..."

"Don't, Bella," he stops me with his hand and says, then stands up. "I'm not in the mood."

I stand up, too. "I know. You're never in the mood to talk about what's bothering you."

He makes his way back to the house, and I trail behind him. "Right, so don't push me."

"I'm not pushing you, I'm just trying to talk."

He finally stops walking, and then turns to face me. "Fine, you want to talk? Let's talk about something else. How was your day?"

"My day was good."

He shakes his head and waves his hand at me like he's waiting for me to go on. When I don't, he says, "great," and proceeds for the house.

"It's okay to be mad, Nico. You're entitled."

"I'm not mad," he says, swinging the door open with so much force that it sways back and almost hits me in the face.

"Dinner will be ready in 2 hours, Nico," Hayley interrupts, but Nico passes her and makes his way to the stairs.

"Not hungry," is all he says, and I give Hayley a look like 'I'm sorry he's being difficult right now', but she just drops her hand down like it's no big deal.

"Don't follow me, Bella," Nico orders when he hears me walking behind him and up the stairs. Obviously, I don't listen.

Once we're in Nico's room, he enters his walk-in closet and starts rummaging through the drawers.

"You can stay here all you want, but I'm going out," he tells me, whipping out a white crew-neck shirt. He pulls it over his head and slips his arms through the sleeves.

"Great, I'm coming," I state, and he stops in place, flaring his nostrils at me.

"Would you just let it go? I'm serious."

"No, not until you talk to me."

He lets out a deep breath and clutches onto his hips. "What do you want me to say, BC? You asked me if I'm ready for this weekend? Sure," he shrugs his shoulders and says, "I'm ready. Can I go now?"

He goes to walk past me, but I stop him by placing my palm on his chest. He looks down at it and stares at it, like me touching him is some sort of foreign feeling. I guess, in a way, it is.

"How are you feeling about it?"

"Nah-uh," he chuckles, wagging his finger at me. "That's not how this works. You asked me one question, I answered it. Now, me move on."

"Nico," I say in a concerned tone as I grab onto his shoulders. My eyes search his moving eyes until he's finally looking at me and nowhere else. And that's when his body language finally changes. His stiff shoulders soften. His tenseness relaxes. His protected demeanor shatters. His vulnerability comes to light.

"I can't, Bella," he finally relinquishes, showing that he is a real person. With real emotions. "I don't think I can go to this party. I can't stand there with a smile on my face and pretend like my parents' marriage is this thing to idolize. I just can't. I'm sorry."

"I know," I hug him and whisper in his ear. "I know."