“Come inside.” Without waiting, Vivian turns and walks deeper in the house.
I follow, unable to shake the uneasiness clinging to me. “Is he here, or…?”
“No. Left early and wouldn’t say where he was going.” She stops and turns on her heel when we reach the kitchen. “You can wait here for him. Would you like some tea?”
“Okay.” I take a tentative seat at the island. “Thank you.”
She smiles without moving the upper half of her face. It’s disconcerting. “Be right back.”
I’m not waiting long before she returns with a manila folder. She must be working from home. She paces on the other side of the island.
“Sorry again for interrupting.” I gesture at the folder she’s flipping through. “I haven’t heard from Connor in a few days, so I was worried and wanted to stop by to see if he wanted to go to the holiday market downtown.”
Vivian lifts a brow with her attention on the contents in the folder, but doesn’t answer.
“I’m going to make you an offer,” she announces after a stretch of awkward silence.
“I’m sorry?” I lick my lips nervously.
Snapping the folder shut, she plays with it as she studies me with a tight expression. “You’ve worn out your usefulness for the campaign’s family-centered message. Leave my son. Stop seeing him. Don’t call or text him.”
“What?” The air sucks from the room as I grip the edge of the counter. “Why would I do that? Connor and I—” I close my mouth. It sounds stupid and cliche saying we love each other to his mom while she’s trying to drive me away. “I won’t do it.”
She sighs like I’m a big inconvenience. “How much do you want?”
“You can’t pay me to stop dating Connor.” I gape at her. “That’s horrible.”
Vivian coos at me, the sound derisive. “That’s how the world works, darling.”
I straighten my spine. “No thanks. No matter how much you try to bribe me with, I wouldn’t do that to him. I don’t like lying.”
“Well, aren’t you good at playing wholesome?”
“Playing?”
I’m about to jump up from the stool when she smirks. “Connor doesn’t want or need you. Why do you think he hasn’t contacted you?”
Denial clogs in my throat. No. He wouldn’t ghost me. He’s too proud for it. If he wanted to end things between us, he’d tell me to my face. I shake my head.
Vivian clucks her tongue. “With your…promiscuous proclivities, you don’t foster the right kind of image. It’s best for everyone if you disappeared from his life.”
“Disappeared? Promiscuous proclivities?” My head is spinning. “What are you talking about?”
She tosses the folder across the counter. It lands between us, pages spilling across the gleaming granite. They’re…me. Photos of myself. Dread seeps into every inch of my skin as I stare at printed pages from my blog.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
“I’ll take your stunned silence as agreement.” Her words tear me from my stupor. She clicks a pen, poised over a checkbook she pulled out while I was in a daze. “How much will it be?”
What a horrible woman. I’m never voting for her.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I face her. “If Connor doesn’t want me, why would you have to pay me to stop seeing him?”
I’m proud that my voice only shakes a little.
Vivian taps the tip of her silver pen against the blank check. “Insurance.”
My lips part. Forget this, standing up to her is pointless. I swipe the pages from my blog and hop down from the stool.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Those aren’t the only copies, dear. Be smart. Tell me your price, or I’ll show my son.”
A wild laugh escapes me as I back away from her. “You think you can blackmail me?” It’s kind of hilarious, actually. I wish Connor was here to see this. He would get a kick out of it. “Bye, Mrs. Bishop.”
Heart in my throat, I get the hell out of there. On the way, my phone rings. I wait until I’m in the Bishop’s driveway before I pull it out. When I see who it is, a sound catches in my throat.
“Connor!” I answer, pressing the phone to my ear in a white-knuckled grip.
“Thea? Are you—? I’m almost home. Can you meet me in the pool house?”
I turn back to face his house, my stomach roiling. The last twenty-four hours weigh on my shoulders after facing off with his mother and my own.
“Yeah.” I sniffle, wiping my nose. “Of course. Are you okay?”
“We need to talk.”
My stomach drops.
The call cuts off.
“Connor? Connor! Damn it.”
I almost drop the phone as the printed pages slip from my grasp, cascading all over the driveway. Doubt engulfs me as I crouch to gather the pages blaring my secret.
Between the ideas both our mothers planted in my head, I dread what Connor needs to talk about.
Thirty-Three
Thea
There might as well be a singed path in front of the pool house from the serious, stressed-out pacing I did in the last ten minutes waiting for Connor. The entire time I had myself half-convinced we’re breaking up, like both our mothers want.
My inner critical voice wreaks havoc, running rampant with the worst things I think of myself, clawing at my mind with one berating thought after another.
Not enough, silly girl, my mind chants.
The anxiety has ratcheted so high, I’m sure any second I’ll puke up all the sugary confections Maisy and I gorged ourselves on last night. Double chocolate fudge cake is coming back for a gruesome revenge.
I threw out the printouts I took from Vivian, but what if she already told Connor?
The tense, resolute expression on Connor’s face when he finally rounds the house to the backyard with a laptop and thick file in hand doesn’t help alleviate any of those poisonous thoughts. I smother a sound that should belong to a dying animal, not a girl seeing her boyfriend for the first time in days.
The last time we were together, we talked about loving each other. Now I’m certain those were our last happy moments. Something in my bones braces me for the impact of this conversation shattering my heart.
One smile from him could save it.
“Hi,” I say hoarsely when he’s close.
Connor doesn’t smile. The first crack in my fragile heart splinters, catching me off guard.
“Come inside.” He glances around, watchful of our surroundings. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, about that,” I croak, wringing my hands. “You’re kind of freaking me out. Maybe you can put a girl out of her misery over here? I’ve had a rough couple of days.”
“You and me both, baby,” Connor rumbles, reaching for my hand and squeezing it.
It’s a brief ray of light breaking through the clouds of despair hanging over my head, but it helps me breathe a little easier and soothes some of the anxiety, bringing me back from the brink of an emotional breakdown. Once we’re inside, he sits me down on the bed, kneels in front of me, and opens his slim laptop with a grim expression.