by Lindsey Hart
“No!” I shake my head firmly. “No. I never did that.”
“You did! You might not have been trying to, but you did.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, my face in my hands. “Point taken,” I say before blowing out a breath. I thought I knew what it was like to feel tired before, but right now, I feel extremely exhausted.
“How’s this for a point?” Feeney flips me off and storms out of the room.
I don’t chase after her because I thought she’s just going up to her room to be alone and think for a while. I don’t want to go up there and force her to talk to me, and I don’t want to make things worse than they already are, because shit, things are looking pretty bleak.
I guess I’m wrong about absolutely everything in the universe because a few minutes later, Feeney storms back into the room, her duffel on her shoulder. “I’m leaving, obviously. Tell…tell Shade I’m sorry and that I’ll miss him. Also, tell him his dad is a lying, salty piece of shady shit. That should about cover it when he asks you why I had to go.”
Without waiting for an answer or even offering me an explanation on what salty means, because I’m sure she wasn’t referring to actual seasoning—apparently, I haven’t kept up with the lingo as of late—Feeney storms out of the room.
Out the front door.
Away from the house.
Out of my life.
And out of Shade’s life.
I remain on the couch for a few minutes, wallowing in self-pity and regret. I’m angry with myself, Feeney’s parents, and whoever or whatever is out there for taking Britt away from me. I’m angry that I could never let myself be happy and how I didn’t even know what it meant. I’m pissed at myself for being pissed about that because none of this had anything to do with Britt dying. This had everything to do with me, just as Feeney said. It was all me. Well, me and her dad, but mostly me. I was the one who lied to her. Her parents, at least, tried to tell her straight up. I was the one who went along with this horrendously stupid plan.
I wallow.
I curse myself.
I breathe in and out so sloppily and hastily that I nearly hyperventilate.
My eyes stray back to the TV, to the stupid game I had playing there. You know, half an hour ago, when things were relatively normal. And by normal, I mean significantly less fucked up for me but still ultra-fucked up because who does that? Who does what I did? Feeney has more than a point.
I deserve to lose her and every bit of goodness I’ve found. Every shred of happiness, every scrap of decency, I deserve it.
But I can’t let it happen.
I quickly leap off the couch as if someone ass punched me from below, then I reach for my phone. Only, it’s not there. Of course it’s not there.
I run out the back and finally find it in the grass, right by the deck. I hastily punch in the number for Feeney’s parents because I know it’s where she’s heading. Unlike me, she doesn’t believe in cowering and hiding, and unlike me, she believes in standing up for herself. Also, unlike me, she is not a piece of salty shit.
Maybe a little bit of Feeney’s goodness rubbed off on me because as the phone starts ringing, I already know what I have to do.
CHAPTER 23
Feeney
This madness is going to end, and it’s going to end now.
I don’t so much enter my parent’s house as I do storm in. Behind me, Luke’s car is in the driveway because I didn’t have any other choice. And it’s not like he won’t get it back. My dad will have someone drive it over as soon as I leave without it. I’ll even be nice and leave the keys.
Within minutes, both my parents come fluttering into the entranceway. The house is crazy huge, and after being in Luke’s house for a month, getting used to things on a far less grand and way more scaled-down size, everything seems disproportionately large. And shiny. Good lord, I don’t remember it ever being this bright in here. The lights overhead glisten off the marble tile in the entrance.
I’m not going in any further, even when I see how worried both my parents look as they come running. Obviously, Luke called them because it took me forever to get over here. He had time, and obviously, he found his phone.
I know they know because they both look guilty. They also look exactly how I remember—finely tuned. Not ritzy or anything, but wearing expensive, designer clothes. My dad in dress pants and a dress shirt. I think he sleeps in that outfit because I’ve never seen him wear anything else. My mom is dressed to match, in black pants and a red sweater with a black and white scarf tied at her neck.
I don’t want to soften, and I can’t soften because mixed in with all that guilt, I sense concern. Also, frantic worry because I’m their daughter, and they don’t want anything bad to happen to me. They never wanted me to get hurt.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I cross my arms just like I did at Luke’s. “You’ve all gone insane. I can’t believe you were going to trade me off to someone just so you could merge his company with yours and kill your competition. I can’t believe you talked him into it! Am I just some old shirt you swap out for a new one when the time’s right? Or rather, when you get sick of having me around, you make me someone else’s problem, but you make sure to do it to get a nice tidy bonus out of it? Did you have me only to one day barter me in exchange for something else? I keep thinking this isn’t the Victorian era, but I think I’m wrong. You’re both definitely living in the wrong time.”
“Now, Feeney,” Dad starts using that I’m your parent, I know best, so listen to me tone I really can’t stand at any time, especially not now.
“Honey, we wanted what was best for you. You’re making this seem like something it’s not.” Mom takes a different route than Dad for a change. “We weren’t trying to trade you in or barter you in exchange for something. The deal wasn’t dependent on you being with Maxwell or not being with him. We just wanted you to be happy and safe with someone who would look after you instead of treating you badly.”
“In what? An arranged marriage?”
“You did say you wanted one,” Dad says sheepishly.
He looks sidelong at my mom, completely out of his element. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look like that. He always has everything under control. He’s used to dealing with bullshit at work, and he’s pretty good at defusing things and having them go his way. He has the magic touch, I guess. But not this time. Oh, no. Not this time.
“I didn’t mean it! I was just…just venting! Jesus! How could you think this would be in anyone’s best interest?”
“I didn’t mean it to come out the way it did,” Dad sputters. “I didn’t mean you had to marry him. We were trying to tell you that we just wanted you both to meet. We were trying to tell you that Maxwell had a son who needed a mother figure in his life. We know you like children.”
“Why does everyone say that about me?!”
“What your dad wanted to say was that we wanted you to meet Maxwell and his son, and if you felt it was right, then he’d be open to an arrangement. A marriage where you could both live your lives, but in a way where you could both be happy and where his son would be loved and looked after.”
“That’s the worst freaking idea I’ve ever heard!” I snap. “Why would you think something like that could work? That I would ever agree to it?”
“Well, you did say—”
“I know what I said!” I feel like combusting. Now I totally get those cartoon characters with steam or smoke blowing out of the top of their heads. I feel like that’s me—a big, steaming, cartoon character.
“I’m sorry,” Dad chokes.
Not like how Luke apologized. I can tell he really doesn’t mean it. He’s completely baffled at the moment, and he can’t understand why I’m upset. I decide to help him out since I’m feeling less than gracious at the moment. Shit, it’s not like I don’t have a right to it.
Own it, people say.
Well, I’m going to be over here, owning my very justifiable anger.
<
br /> “I can’t believe you asked someone to marry me like I’m completely hopeless. I don’t care if it was with good intent or not because who the heck does that? And you did wrap it up with a business deal, which is just crazy and wrong. Even if it didn’t depend on it, I still think it kind of did, and you should never have talked about the two together. You shouldn’t have talked about it anyway. Plus, you then, after I left this house, tricked me into staying with the very man I wanted nothing to do with! You couldn’t just leave it at my refusal. You couldn’t just mend the bridges that were on fire. You had to go and pour freaking gasoline all over them and really ignite them! I can’t believe you did this! Both of you!”
“We really did want to make sure you were safe. You’ve had a few bad experiences, and you’re not…you’re not very street-savvy,” Mom pleads.
“Street smarts? Whose fault is it that I don’t have street smarts? You guys sent me to boarding school, and then you paid for an Ivy League school. I haven’t been allowed to see the world! I wasn’t even really allowed to study what I wanted! I’ve never been able to go anywhere I wanted, or even do what I wanted!”
“That’s hardly true,” Dad puts in.
“It basically is. I’m thankful for all the opportunities you’ve given me, but I’m not going to stand here and let you direct my life like this. Tricking me into going to Luke’s house and staying there, thinking it was a safe place, into falling in love with his son, into feeling—” I cut myself off, realizing I’ve said way too much.
Mom and Dad exchange a look. It’s a look that says, don’t worry, this is all going to blow over. She’s going to thank us soon enough when she’s calmed down. She likes him, after all. They’re going to end up married, and we’ll be laughing about this and telling her I told you so while we’re eating overpriced turkey and drinking obscenely expensive wine here at next year’s Christmas.
“Argh!” I spin on my heel and march out the door.
I slam it so brutally behind me that the house must be absorbing the impact from the inside. Good. Let them hear it. Let them see how upset I am. But no, they don’t understand. That look they had says they know I’ll get over it, that I’ll be the one trying to apologize to them, and that everything will turn out okay. That look says they’re innocent because all their plotting and scheming and horrible behavior is going to all be fine.
Well, no, it’s fucking not.
It’s not.
Nothing is going to be fine, and I’m not going back to Luke’s. Ever. I’m never talking to him again.
I let out a frustrated cry of rage and hurl Luke’s car keys, which are still wrapped so tightly in my fist that I have indents in my palms and fingers from the metal’s sharp ridges, straight at his car. They bounce harmlessly off the driver’s side and land on the pristine concrete of my parents’ driveway.
Fuck! I can’t even do that right. It would have been much more satisfying if the keys had broken the glass or made a mark. My dad would have paid Luke back for it, of course.
Not that Luke couldn’t afford it. He is going to be able to afford to make multiple car factories all over the world if he wanted to once his company merges with my dad. That’s reason enough for Luke to basically seduce me.
So what if I know he didn’t? I know he didn’t seduce me. I know that, but I don’t want to know it right now. Right now, I just want to be pissed.
I look up as I hear the roar of a car’s engine speeding down the block. Apparently, staying pissed just got a whole heck of a lot easier because the engine’s roar belongs to Luke. He pulls into my parent’s driveway and parks right behind his car. If he thinks it blocks me in, that’s a big mistake. My parent’s driveway is a semi-circle with two exits.
Luke tumbles out of the car. He looks absolutely wild, and I hope he didn’t drive like that, a danger on the road to himself and everyone else.
“Feeney,” he pants. “Please…” He tries to edge closer, but I back up just as many steps as he takes. He finally plants his feet and looks pleadingly at me.
“Where the heck is Shade?” The back windows of the sedan are tinted, so I can’t see if there’s a car seat back there. “You woke him up and dragged him out with you?”
“No.”
“You left him at home by himself?!”
“No! Jesus. He’s only four years old. I called my dad, and he came over, but he wasn’t surprised, as usual, that I managed to fuck things up, and he let me know it. I’ve received two tongue lashings tonight.”
“Good. I’m glad. You deserve them both.”
Luke grimaces, but I pretend not to notice. I don’t like the twinge it creates in my chest. Why? Why, after all this, do I still have to be nice enough to care that I’m hurting him? I’m not hurting him. Luke is a robot, and none of that was real. He colluded with my parents. He tricked me. He lied to me. He used me, and he slept with me, in which time he did give me the best orgasms of my life, wasn’t at all selfish, and held me like I was going to break and as if I could somehow stop him from drowning in the roughest seas, but that’s beside the point.
“You know what? I’m glad you’re here.”
I can see my parents creeping out the front door over Luke’s very broad, very masculine, and very wonderful shoulder. A shoulder I’ve kissed, tasted, bit, and licked. I know the exact taste and texture of his skin, which might sound slightly cannibalistic, or it might even sound romantic and sad, but it’s not. It’s not anything because I’m done thinking about Luke. After tonight, I will never think about him again.
Luke brightens just a little, but I quickly dash his hopes.
“I’m glad you’re here because then I can tell you all at once that you’re crazy. Life isn’t a chess game, and I’m not a pawn. I’d like to tell you all now to go to hell, and please leave me alone. Luke, you can do that forever. Mom and Dad, I’m going to find somewhere to go for a while and get settled, and then I’ll call, only because I know you’ll be worried sick and probably call the police or hire a PI or something. Just save everyone the trouble and don’t make things any worse. I promise I’ll be fine for a week. Just please, all of you. Leave me alone.”
I had planned on leaving Luke’s keys, but I storm over, grab the keys from the driveway, and get in. I wish I could leave two black marks right on my parent’s concrete, but I can’t even do that as I have no experience with peeling tires. Instead, I get in and drive away slowly and carefully, leaving the three of them standing behind me.
I know they’re back there, but I don’t know how they look. If they’re teary-eyed (Mom), pissed off (Dad), regretful (Luke), or just bewildered and annoyed with me. I wonder if my parents are still sharing a look saying it’s all going to work out, but they probably are, which is why I don’t look back. I’ve had just about enough aggravation for tonight.
I do have some money in the bank account I opened after I left my parent’s house, and it’s enough for a hotel room for at least two weeks if I find some dive motel. I have my duffel, my computer, and a degree. This is also the second time I’ve done this. I’m getting good at it, and I have a list of jobs I’ve been meaning to apply for.
I’m going to be fine.
And the first thing I’m going to do when I get to whatever motel it is I’m heading to is to call a tow truck to come and get Luke’s car. I’m going to park it in whatever no parking zone I can find as a last eff you to him, my parents, and all of it.
CHAPTER 24
Luke
I got my car back the morning after the night everything went wrong. Feeney’s parents offered me apologies and reassurances, but I didn’t even hear them. I paid the tow bill for the car, and the keys were inside. It wasn’t keyed, the tires weren’t slashed, and it wasn’t spray painted. It was just as I would have left it in my own garage.
I also dealt with my heartbroken son and did the only thing I could think of and hired another nanny. It’s not hard when you have money. There’s an agency that has a list of people waiting to
work. Of course, Shade hated her, and as of now, he still hates her. I think he doesn’t like her just because she’s not Feeney, even though Mary Anne is nice enough. There’s really nothing to not like about her, but I guess I don’t like her either because she’s not Feeney.
I dealt with the merger, which went ahead, of course. The deal never hinged on Feeney, and she wasn’t just thrown in as an afterthought. I might have been completely ignorant and a real asshole by not thinking of her feelings ahead of time, but her parents really do care about her.
Basically, I did what I did after I lost Britt.
I got on with it.
I pretended, went through it all on autopilot, did the things I had to do, signed papers, signed more papers, and did other work shit. The only times I snapped out of it were the times I got to spend with Shade. He will always be the one reason I have to be me as I try and do that to the best of my ability even when everything else feels epically shitty.
We keep it up for three weeks, but then, on a weekend when Mary Anne is out doing something on her own time, the carefully constructed lie that says I’m okay and everything is fine, crumbles hard.
I’m in the backyard with Shade. We were tossing a football around, but then it got hot, so we both decided to take a break by sitting down and doing nothing right there on the grass. I’m thinking about Feeney and all my regrets, which I do pretty much all day long now, but Shade catches me doing it and calls me on my bullshit. Yes, I know he’s only four. And yes, it’s still effective, maybe more so because of his age.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you know Feeney didn’t even know what an opossum was?”
“Really?” My heart aches, my stomach aches, my legs, arms, chest, neck, feet, and hands ache, and my head also aches.
“Yeah. I told her, though.” Shade plucks some grass out of the lawn and stares at it. “Do you think if we called her, she’d come over?”