I inhale a slow breath. “Told you what?”
“That I’m going to that stupid boarding school. It’s fine.”
Sighing, I lean back into the chair, resting my arms on the cushioned sides. “It is?”
His eyes flick to me over the rim of his glasses. “Would it matter if it wasn’t?”
“Of course, it would.”
He tosses his paintbrush down, running a hand through his jet-black hair, so similar to our mother’s. “There’s nothing you can do to change it, Wendy. It is what it is, and you sitting there looking like you’re about to burst into tears isn’t helping the situation.”
My chest pulls tight. “I’m not—”
His eyes narrow. “You are.”
“I just want you to be happy. That’s all.” I raise my hands.
He doesn’t respond, his attention going back to his craft. The silence is suffocating as it wraps its way around my throat and stuffs into my ears, allowing room for my thoughts to grow wild and uninterrupted.
This is the only thing I’ve asked my father for, and yet, somehow, he still couldn’t follow through, choosing to take the easy road, to cast Jon’s feelings aside as if something as huge as this doesn’t really matter. Another charred and heavy log is thrown on the fire of my anger, simmering at the base of my gut.
“He said I’m going tomorrow.”
The words are soft and short, but they pummel me in the chest anyway. “Tomorrow?” I gasp. “Is he coming home to take you there?”
Jon’s lips curve into a small smile, but it isn’t happiness I feel vibrating through the air. “Wendy, be real. The driver will take me.”
Flames lick up my insides, heating my veins. “I’ll take you.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” I force a smile. “I’ve gotta see it for myself if I plan on visiting every week.”
Jon groans. “You are not allowed to visit every week.”
My grin grows. “Well, you better let me take you tomorrow then, otherwise I’ll come all the time, and I’ll make sure to be extra embarrassing.”
Jon chuckles, his eyes sparking the tiniest bit. “Wendy, you’re never embarrassing. Just… overbearing.”
My hand flies to my heart. “Should I be offended by that?”
“No, it’s…” He shakes his head. “It’s nice.”
The knot in my stomach unravels at our banter, the familiarity bursting through me like a long-lost friend. But it’s quickly swiped away by the knowledge that after tomorrow, it will really just be me all alone.
We’ve been at the JR for two hours and I’ve yet to see James.
Maria—who isn’t with us tonight—said he owned the bar, but the longer I sit here without his overbearing presence to muddle my thoughts, the more I realize I don’t actually know anything about him.
Well, that’s not true. I know some things, like he has a ridiculous nickname, and he apparently has so much clout in this town that said nickname is as good as gold. But for someone who says I’m his, I feel like he’s nothing more than a stranger.
How could I be stupid enough not to ask?
“Thanks for saying you’ll cover my shift tomorrow,” I tell Angie, sipping from my sparkling water.
She waves me off, smiling. “No worries. I could use the extra hours, anyway.” Her eyes move past me. “Besides, you’re dating a dude who wears three-piece suits by choice, so I think it’s safe to say I need the money more than you. Oh, and you live in a mansion.” She cackles. “You hussy. God, it isn’t fair.”
The chuckle I force out feels like razor blades, slicing through the sudden tightness of my throat.
She tosses back the remainder of her drink and sighs. “Ugh… where’s your man, girl? Since I’ve gotta work in the morning for your ass, I need to head home. Beauty sleep and all that.”
My insides clench and I glance around, looking for a sign of James anywhere. The bar is thinning out, we’ve been here for hours, yet there’s still no sign of him. My fingers twist in my lap. “He’s probably busy. You go ahead, I can just catch a cab.”
I cringe as the words leave my lips, hoping they don’t sound as pathetic as they feel.
“You sure?” Her eyes scan the room.
“Yeah, he said he would be here.” I nod.
She bites her lip. “Well, yeah, but… he hasn’t even shown his face. I don’t want to leave you here without a ride.”
Reaching out, I pat her arm. “I appreciate the concern, but you really don’t need to worry.”
She sighs, standing up. “Okay, but text me if he doesn’t show up. I can come back.”
I stay at the bar long after she leaves, watching the bubbles pop and fizz in my drink. I could probably get something besides sparkling water—I haven’t been carded since that first night and my birthday is in three days—but the truth is that I’m not a big drinker. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
“And then there was one.” A voice filters through my daze, and I look up, meeting the amber eyes of Curly. “You want a drink, sunshine?”
“Aren’t you guys closing soon? I’ll probably just go… He’s not here, is he?” I ask, breaking eye contact.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” He leans his elbow on the bar. “There’s a lot of ‘hims’ around this place.”
“Ja—Hook.” Unease swims through me as I realize I’m not sure how to address him when I’m talking to other people. Yet another thing that shows I know absolutely nothing about this man.
But I do know it won’t stop me from leaving with him tonight if he shows up.
It may be stupid. It’s definitely reckless. But it’s also exhilarating having someone like him shower his attention on me. Makes me feel less like the picture of innocence, and more like a woman.
Something about the way he stares makes me feel alive.
A laugh to my left cuts off whatever Curly was about to say. My head turns and my eyes take in the curvy raven-haired beauty that’s polishing wine glasses and hanging them on the bar rack.
Curly scowls in her direction. “Cut it out, Moira.”
“I’m sorry.” She smirks, her eyes locking on mine. “You’re really waiting around here for Hook?”
Another dose of doubt creeps into my conscience, pouring through my body like sludge. There’s a smile on her face, yet her tone is anything but friendly, and my hackles rise. A retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back and nod, my knuckles turning white from how tightly my fingers tangle around each other.
She huffs out another laugh.
“Moira,” Curly hisses.
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening as she looks at him. “You can’t seriously be entertaining this?” Her hand shoots out toward me. “Another groupie showing up who knows nothing about the man, thinking the little innocent act will work? It’s honestly pathetic. You shouldn’t encourage it.”
My jaw clenches, her words battering against my wall of confidence—already shaken from my own twisted thoughts.