“I can’t…do that. I love him.”
“You haven’t been together for long. Those feelings will eventually disappear.”
“You can’t possibly be serious?”
She stands up, releases a long breath, and whispers, “I’m trying to protect you.”
“By hurting me? You’re cutting me open by demanding I stop seeing the only person who’s not only embraced me for who I am but who’s also encouraged me to grow into myself.”
She strokes my hair back, a sad expression covering her face. “It’ll all get better with time. I promise.”
Then she steps out the door, leaving me with pain, sadness, and, most importantly, confusion.
What the hell just happened?
When I wake up after a restless sleep, the first thing I do is check my messages.
My chest immediately deflates when I find no text from Creighton.
Maybe he’s mad that the one-day deadline is over and I still haven’t made good on my promise to fix things.
So I type another one.
Annika: Morning! It’s morning here, so it must be around midday there? I’m going to find an opportunity to talk to Papa about us. I was hoping Mom would be my ally, but I guess that’s out after she weirdly opposed to our relationship last night. This will be the first time I’ve gone up against Papa head-to-head. Wish me luck! I miss you. I want to kiss you.
I wait for a few minutes in case he reads both my texts and finally replies, but there’s nothing.
Maybe he lost his phone.
I stroke the necklace he gave me, then text the girls’ group chat.
Annika: Morning! Did you get together with the guys this weekend?
Cecily: With Remi and Bran, yeah.
Annika: How about the others?
Cecily: What others? Eli and Lan don’t hang out with us.
Glyndon: She means Creigh, silly. And no, Anni. He didn’t come along.
My fingers tighten around the phone and I frown.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spent all his time sleeping, but ever since we got together, he doesn’t sleep as much.
I was hopeful—and probably delusional—enough to think he probably preferred my company over sleep.
My screen lights up with another text.
Ava: Creigh was inseparable from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Looked like they were up to no good.
Cecily: And how do you know that? Have you developed stalker tendencies?
Ava: Bitch, please. I only caught a glimpse of it when I was borrowing something from Bran.
Glyndon: Borrowing something from Bran, huh? *giggling GIF*
Cecily: Leave her be. She said she caught a glimpse. More like glimpses.
Glyndon: Maybe in compromising positions.
Ava: I’m blocking you two.
Ava: Not really, but I might.
My frown deepens, but I choose to remain calm as I change my clothes and then go down the stairs. I keep obsessing over my phone, checking the unread texts over and over.
Just because Creighton is spending time with Eli doesn’t mean he wouldn’t reply.
The more I think about it, the less it makes sense.
I find Mom and Jeremy having breakfast in the garden and whispering among each other.
The moment I approach them, they swiftly push back in their seats, putting an abrupt end to their secret conversation.
I’ve always envied the relationship Jer has with both our parents. Papa sees himself in him and Mom dotes on him as the firstborn. Her angel, as she calls him. She sometimes treats him like her best friend and her confidant.
Apparently, he’s the one who brought my parents together. Something I can never measure up to.
So whenever they’re having their moments like these, I feel left out.
“Morning,” I mutter as I fall onto a chair and pour myself a coffee.
“Morning, baby. Did you sleep well?”
I make an affirmative sound. “Where’s Papa and the others?”
“They went out late last night for some errands.”
Errands? More like to kill people. I shake my head, not wanting to picture that.
Mom fixes me some toast. “Jeremy was just telling me about the rivalry between The King’s U and Royal Elite University. It seems intense.”
“So what of it?” I lose my cool. “Is this another way to convince me to stay away from Creighton for reasons you refuse to divulge? If that’s the case, save it, Mom. I happen to be an REU student, and not once have the people there treated me differently just because I’m an American or a Volkov.”
Jeremy glares at me over the rim of his cup. “Don’t speak to Mom in that tone.”