I think about lying, but in the end, he would most likely get it out of me anyway. Is omitting a few facts also a lie? Maybe not. “I rode home in the car.”
He lifts his brows. “Whose car? Because it wasn’t mine. The driver called me in a panic a couple of hours ago, Wren. Saying you never contacted him for pickup. When he went to the gallery, he realized you were already gone.”
“He went into the gallery?” Guilt swamps me. I’m sure it’s written all over my face.
“He drove all over Tribeca, trying to find you, and just happened to see you exit a restaurant with someone.”
I’m light-headed at his words, and I fall onto the couch behind me. “Who?”
Daddy steps toward me, thrusting his phone out so it’s in my face. On the screen is a photo of me and Crew leaving Two Hands together. I’m smiling.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself look so happy before.
“Who is that?” Daddy demands.
“Crew Lancaster.” My voice is surprisingly calm.
He frowns, shoving his phone back into his pants pocket. “Wait—Reggie’s son?”
“Yes,” Mother pipes up, “the youngest one.”
“I go to school with him,” I add. “He’s in my class.”
“Hmm.” He glances over at Mother. “Might be a better prospect for her than the boy tonight.”
She nods in agreement.
My mouth drops open.
What are they talking about? Is there something behind tonight’s dinner with the Von Wellers beyond my father wanting to talk to them about business?
“What are you talking about?” I ask when they don’t say anything further. “Crew and I are just—friends.”
“Why was he at the gallery?” Daddy asks.
“I…”
His phone rings, and he immediately pulls it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before he says, “I need to take this.”
And leaves the room.
The moment he’s gone, Mother takes a fortifying drink from her glass. “Next time, you should text your father. He was worried sick.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating that I automatically apologize for everything. I never try to explain myself. Or stand up for myself.
“You know how he gets.”
“I do.” I nod, gathering up my courage to ask the question burning in my mind. “Why did Daddy say that to you?”
“Say what?” She’s purposely playing dumb. I can tell.
“About Crew being a better—prospect.”
She lifts her chin. “We’re exploring all avenues for your future.”
I’m frowning so hard it hurts my head. “What are you talking about? Like—marrying me off to Larsen? Is that why we’re having dinner at their house tonight? Is that one of the avenues we’re seriously exploring?”
Why am I bothering to use the word “we”？ Seems to me they were exploring my options, without involving me whatsoever.
“It’s not such a terrible prospect to consider. He comes from a good family. They’re very wealthy,” Mother points out.
“And ours isn’t wealthy? Why do I need to worry about money? I don’t want to get married straight out of high school. I’ll only be eighteen.” Just saying the words out loud sounds ridiculous.
“Calm down. You wouldn’t get married after high school, darling. That’s far too soon. But we want to pair you with someone to ensure your future.” She takes another sip of wine, effortlessly cool, as if nothing ever bothers her.
While I feel like my life is imploding right in front of my eyes.
“What if I want to go to college?”
The skeptical look that crosses her face is obvious. “Do you really want to do that, Wren? Such a waste of time.”
I flinch at her words. Is she implying she thinks I’m dumb?
“I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling defensive. I applied to a few colleges, listing art history as my major. “I might want to take a gap year first. I could travel around Europe and explore all of the galleries.”
“You won’t be able to buy anything though.”
I frown. “Why not? I just bought a painting today.”
“It’s hard to explain.” She drops her gaze, fiddling with the giant diamond on her finger. It’s not her wedding ring. I don’t know where that one came from, but it’s so large it almost looks fake. “You wouldn’t understand.”
My heart drops. She’s not behaving normally. “Tell me.”