“Good afternoon,” one of the groundskeepers says as he quickly passes us, and I nod.
“Afternoon, Jeremy.”
Once he’s out of earshot, Glenda relaxes against me and then begins to straighten her sweater where I’ve mauled it.
“I should get you to the cottage,” I say, because now the moment has passed, and she won’t look me in the eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve got enough to do without having to babysit me.”
Her words don’t have the warmth they held from earlier, and I want to kick my own ass. I’ve ruined things between us, and I’ve missed my chance. I should have known better than to kiss her. Why would anyone want to kiss a scarred freak like me? It’s better this way because I’ve already fallen hard enough. If she were to string me along out of pity, it would only make things more difficult in the future.
“This way.” This time I walk quickly instead of trying to draw the time out. I’m sure she can’t wait to get as far away from me as possible.
It’s too bad because all I want to do is get closer to her. I guess some dreams aren’t meant to come true.
Chapter Seven
Glenda
It’s been a few hours since Cillian left me alone in the cottage. As soon as he opened the door for me, he bolted. I truly don’t understand what went wrong. When I touch my lips, they still tingle, and I hope the feeling never goes away. I’m certain Cillian won’t kiss me again, so this is all I’ve got to hold on to.
When we heard someone coming, he ended the kiss so quickly I couldn’t help but think that he didn’t want anyone to know that he’d kissed me. Was he embarrassed about it? The only other thing I can think of was that I’m a terrible kisser. I’d never kissed anyone before, and the thought of being bad at it hadn’t occurred to me until now.
Sure I’ve read about thousands of kisses in books, but there’s no way I could have tried to recall any of it at that moment. The only thing I could think about was the fact that Cillian was kissing me.
Then I thought I felt something hard pressing into my stomach. My mind and body went haywire after that because I thought that I’d turned Cillian on. For a brief moment, I felt sexy. I’d never had that desire before, but with Cillian, I wanted him to see me that way.
None of that matters now, I suppose. I don’t think it will ever be happening again. My heart feels heavy, and I will myself not to cry. I was so excited to get here, and now I’m wondering if there’s a way to leave. I’m not sure I can spend the next few days with Cillian avoiding me and an awkward tension looming over me whenever we’re in the same space.
My phone starts to ring, and I rush over to my bag and dig it out. “Great,” I mutter when I see it’s my mom and not Cillian. I’m actually a bit surprised she’s calling because when I was away at boarding school, her calls were few and far between. It was actually Felipe that checked up on me more often than not. Which is crazy because I know my brother is a million times busier than my parents.
“Hi Mom,” I say in a chipper voice when I answer.
“How are things going?” She asks one question but doesn’t wait for a response before she’s asking another. “Are you being polite?” When have I ever not been polite? It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, but in true fashion of my mother, she keeps going with her questions. “Are you cleaning up after yourself?”
I glance around the cottage as my open suitcase sits off to the side of the entryway with a few of my belongings piled next to it. I needed my Kindle charger, which is why I tore through it. I want to defend myself and tell her it was dead, but I don’t say anything. On top of the mess from my suitcase, my purse is on the couch with everything that was inside of it now dumped out.
“Of course I’m polite,” I respond. That’s probably the safest question to respond to.
“That’s good.” Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. “I was calling to talk to you about Travis Rollins.”
There it is.
“Why would you want to ask me about him?” Travis’s family might have money, but it’s what most would call “new money.” By most, I mean my own parents. His family isn’t even from here. This conversation cannot possibly be going where I think it is, but something tells me I’m wrong.
“Your father met with his father today. They both seem to think that Travis and you might make a good match.”
“But he’s not—”
“Don’t start with this, Glenda. I didn’t think you were such a snob.” My mouth falls open. Did she really say that? That’s beyond ludicrous, especially coming from her. What’s the point of sticking to this tradition if it’s not even done properly?
“I’m not a snob, and Travis is an asshole,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. Between what happened with Cillian and now this, I think my emotions are getting the best of me.
“What did you just say to me?” Mom gasps through the phone.
“I’m sorry. I don’t find him to be a very kind person.” Especially to women.
“I’m sure he’d say the same if he knew what you called him.” I drop down on the couch, making some of the contents of my purse slip off and onto the floor. I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to say sorry again. Silence stretches for a long moment, and she starts to speak again when she realizes I’m not going to. “When you get back, we’re going to have Travis and his parents over for dinner.”
“Okay,” I say so I can get off the phone with her.
“Don’t mention this to your brother.”
“What?” Did she really say that?
“You heard me. Don’t make me punish you.”
“I’m an adult. Besides, when have you ever punished me?” I’m completely blown away by this whole conversation right now. What has gotten into her? She has really started to change since Felipe announced he was choosing his own bride.
“And maybe that’s why you’re now cursing at me and being willful.”
She’s never punished me before because I’ve never done anything to be punished over. I’ve always gone above and beyond everything I’m supposed to. The only thing I ever do is leave messes, and god knows she harps on that constantly now. Sometimes I wonder if I do it as some unconscious way to rebel.
“I have to go, Mother. It’s time for dinner,” I lie through my teeth for the first time.
“All right, I’ll—” I end the call before shoving my phone down into the cushions.
Right when I think I’m about to burst into tears because it’s all too much, a knock sounds at the door. I jump up and rush over, thinking that maybe Cillian has come back to talk. My heart sinks when I see two women about my age.
“Hi Glenda, I’m Jackie. Cora wanted us to drop off some items for you.”
“Of course.” I open the door to let them in.
They set down the boxes they’re already holding before making a few more trips back out to a cart that they used to haul them over. They refuse to let me help, so I hold the door and watch in silence.