“Can I speak with you for a moment?”
I plop down on my bed, folding my legs close to my body and curling my arms around them. “Yes.”
He closes the door behind him and leans against it, watching me. “Your mother said she told you.”
I nod, not sure what to say.
“I wanted to tell you. The two of us together, as a united front,” he starts, but I talk over him.
“You’re really not united anymore though.”
A rough exhale leaves him and he scrubs the side of his face. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.”
“Why are you forcing her to sell all of the art?” I ask, my voice small. My gaze goes to the piece hanging on the wall. My gift that wasn’t a gift at all. “She told me I can’t keep that.”
He studies it before returning his gaze to mine. “It’s a valuable piece. One that could fetch a lot of money.”
“Is that what this is all about? Money? Is that why you’re selling everything? I’m sure you’ll make a ton off of Mom’s curated collection she’s worked so hard at over the years.” Oh, I’m mad. Mad he would betray her like this. Angry he would so callously force her to give up everything she’s collected over the past twenty years.
“I invested in those pieces. It was my money she used to purchase them. That collection is every bit mine as it is hers,” Daddy says, pushing away from the door. “Don’t fall for her sob story. She’s just angry things aren’t working out in her favor.”
“I don’t blame her. None of it is fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Pumpkin. That’s a good lesson to learn now, when you’re still young. Bad things will happen to you, and some of the time, it’s completely out of your control. It all comes down to the choices you make.” He paces my room, pausing to stare at the art piece that no longer belongs to me. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, but the very best choice was marrying your mother and having you. I hope you believe me when I say that.”
“Then why won’t you stay married to her? If she was the best choice you ever made?” I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears drip off my face.
“People change. They want different things.” His expression softens. “I don’t want to hurt you. Neither does your mother.”
“Too late,” I whisper, my chest aching from holding back the tears.
TWENTY
CREW
I spent the rest of the weekend in quiet agony, thinking of Wren with Larsen, the fuckhead, at dinner Saturday night, joking and laughing and forgetting all about me.
Because that’s exactly what it seems like. She never reached out once. Not after we dropped her off at her house and she ran inside without a backward glance. Not Sunday when I tried to call her.
And I only called her once. A Lancaster doesn’t chase. We don’t beg and we don’t ask what’s wrong.
She can come to me.
Monday morning and I’m in my usual spot, leaning against the wall at the front entrance of the school, Ezra and Malcolm flanking either side of me. Natalie is with us, flirting with Ezra all while occasionally eyeing me, but I ignore her. Malcolm is complaining about his parents. While I wait for my little bird to show up.
In other words, nothing has changed.
I feel like I’ve changed, though no one can see it. Kissing Wren in the back of the car…the sounds she made. How responsive she was. The taste of her mouth. The tentative tease of her tongue. I can’t stop thinking about it.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
“Christ, you’re in a foul mood this morning,” Malcolm suddenly says, his words aimed right at me.
“Agreed,” Ezra adds.
“I haven’t even said much,” I mutter, propping my foot against the wall, always on the alert for a certain someone to make her appearance.
“You don’t have to. Your negativity is a literal dark cloud, swarming all around you,” Malcolm says.
“Oooh, so descriptive,” Natalie coos, her gaze appreciative as she sizes up Malcolm. “Why haven’t we ever gone out before?”
“You’re too busy trying to get up on him.” Malcolm waves a hand at me.
“Hey.” Ezra snags Natalie’s hand, pulling her into his arms. “What about me?”
He’s too damn needy. That’s why she’s not interested in Ezra. He could learn a thing or two from me. The more I ignore Nat, the more she seems to want me.
Not that I want her back.