Even though I’m still really mad at him, it makes me happy to hear he’s running his company again. I should try to do the same—stay busy. Stop thinking about him twenty-four seven. Since Hayes let me move in, I’ve been acting like a hermit, staying in my room, and focusing on my online classes. Oh, and cleaning. Cleaning helps me bond with Hayes. He likes to show me where everything goes, and he teaches me nifty little tricks. Like all the things baking soda can be used for. Surprisingly, I don’t mind.
But I do need to get out.
So I break down, and I call Vanessa. I tell her I’ve moved back. After several seconds excited squealing, she asks me where I’m staying. When she finds out I’m with Hayes, the squealing comes to a screeching halt.
“Wait—what? Why didn’t you move back into the house?”
“Because I quit the sorority, remember?”
“Getting you back in will not be a problem.”
“I only have one semester left, Vanessa. I appreciate the thought, but I think I want to spend it doing my own thing.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Doing your own thing, huh? I guess that’s reasonable. You dedicated a lot of time to us. Still…I miss your face. Will you come hang out?”
I don’t even have to think twice. “Definitely.”
“Good. We’re having a party tonight. It’s casino themed. You better be there.”
I smile, remembering all the themed parties we used to organize together. “Sounds like fun.”
“I should warn you though. Miles might be there too.”
I think about how seeing him again would affect me, especially if I have to see him with Gwen. “It’s okay,” I tell her confidently. “I can handle it.”
Oddly enough, I think I mean that.
THIRTY-TWO
Char
It’s hard to smile when I don’t feel like smiling. I’m wearing a glamorous red dress. My hair is pinned to one side, left down in loose curls. I look around the glitzy room and see all my old friends, and I feel a sense of nostalgic comfort. The music is loud, and the champagne is delicious. But I still can’t manage to smile and mean it.
Dammit, Max Archer. This is all your fault.
This feels different than how I felt when Miles cheated on me with Gwen. Back then, I was angry. Heartbroken, yes. But mostly angry. I felt like I’d been betrayed. The bitterness drove me crazy.
This time I’m angrier with myself. This time I’m the only one to blame. I should’ve known better.
“Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, giving me a knowing look.
I nod and lie. “Yeah, just hungry. I’m going to the buffet table. Want anything?”
“No, thanks.”
As soon as I’m away, I feel a sense of relief. Socializing used to be so much fun. I used to live for these parties. The planning, the excitement over choosing what to wear, the anticipation over how many people would come—it used to be fun. I’m not sure what happened to that side of me.
As I move to stand in line for the buffet, someone taps me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, are you Charlotte Hart?”
Good question. Who the hell knows anymore?
“Yes, that’s me.” I suppose.
I turn around. A girl wearing a polka dot dress studies me curiously. She has a round face with freckles and long dark hair. “Weren’t you the president of Alpha Delta Pi?”
“I used to be.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you quit?”
I give her my go-to answer. “It’s my last semester, and I just wanted to enjoy it.”
“Do you not like the sorority anymore?”
The line moves forward, and we both grab a paper plate. “I loved the sorority. It was just time consuming.”
She nods, pressing her lips together. “Sorry for all the questions. I’m considering pledging next semester.”
“It’s fine. Are you a freshman?”
Her cheeks turn pink and she lowers her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not actually a student yet. I’m still university shopping. One of my friends told me about this party. Just figured I’d have some fun while I’m in town.”
“Gotcha. My lips are sealed.”
“I’m Francesca by the way.” She holds out her hand. The name automatically rings a bell. It’s not a super common name, which is why I guess my thoughts go straight to Max. I mark it off as another side effect of my broken heart. Lately anything and everything reminds me of him. Hayes brought home ice cream yesterday, and the sight of it made me cry. It wasn’t even Häagen-Dazs, but I still found a way to connect it back to Max.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. I know it’s a long shot, but I analyze her face, looking for signs of resemblance. Her eyes and hair are the right color, but brown is a common color. Their noses have the same straight lines, and I suppose the way they smile is kind of similar. There’s something about the way she looks at me too, an intensity to her gaze that reminds me of Max.
I try to shake off the nagging feeling, but I can’t seem to get rid of it. And I know if I don’t ask, I’ll regret it later.
“What’s your last name, Francesca?”
“Garcia.”
My stomach drops. For several seconds, I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. This is too big of a coincidence. Maybe I only heard the name Garcia because I wanted to. Maybe she said something else, and I misheard.
She shakes her head. “I know, right? Everyone is always surprised when they find out I’m Spanish.”
It occurs to me that Francesca is mistaking my shock to be about her nationality. “Your dad’s name wouldn’t happen to be David, would it?” I ask her.
Her eyes sharpen for a brief moment. “How did you know?”
My heart launches into my chest. I look around, wondering what to do. Does she have bodyguards? I bet she does. I wonder if they’re close by, watching our every move. I swallow, feeling my throat go dry. Francesca is still looking at me, waiting for me to tell her how I know her dad’s name, and the pressure is building by the second.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “Would you, um, like a tour of the house? I could show you around.”
“How do you know my dad’s name?” she asks again, all humor gone from her face.
“Let’s just say I know a lot about you.” I keep scanning the room, looking for anyone who may be watching. “Can we go somewhere quiet? There’s something really important I need to tell you.”
She puts her plate back, frowning. “I think I’ve lost my appetite. Nice meeting you, Charlotte.”
When she moves to leave, I start to panic. “Francesca—please wait!”
“I have nothing to do with my father’s world,” she says grimly. “As a matter of fact, I’m trying to get away from it. That’s why I’m here. If you have some involvement with him, I’m not interested in learning about it.”
“You need to listen to me. You’re not who you think you are—”
“Goodbye,” she says again, tightlipped.
“Fiona.”
She spins back around. “What did you call me?”
“That’s your name. Your real name.”
Slowly shaking her head, she stands there staring at me, and I know the name is registering somewhere within the deep recesses of her mind. She was only two or three years old when she was taken. But old enough to retain a memory, even a small one.
“Are either of you planning to get something to eat?” The guy standing behind us in line is staring at us expectantly, signaling that the line has moved.
“Go ahead.” I wave him on, step aside, and then continue pleading with Francesca. “Please just give me a chance to explain. You and I may never have this opportunity again. Are you being watched right now?”
Still in shock, she gives a little nod of her head. “My cousin. He’s always with me.”
“Can you slip away?”
“No. He’s watching me right now.”
Chills tingle down my spine; I sense she
’s telling the truth. “Can you meet up with me later?”
She hesitates for few seconds. “Okay,” she whispers. “Tomorrow.”
I let out a small sigh of relief. “What’s your phone number?” With shaky hands, I reach inside my clutch for my cellphone.
“You tell me yours.”
“But—won’t you forget it? Do you want me to put it in your phone?”
She shakes her head. “He’ll see me. I won’t forget your number. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.”
“Oh.” I give it to her, thinking it’s kind of sad that she has to resort to these tactics just to get someone’s phone number. I can’t even begin to imagine what her life is like.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Around lunch time.”
I nod, and she disappears without getting anything to eat.
I wonder if she’ll really meet me tomorrow, or if she only told me that to blow me off. Maybe she didn’t trust me. I could’ve imagined the look on her face when I said her real name. Ugh. This is going to keep me up all night.
I guess I simply have to believe she’ll be there, that this meeting was fate, and that I have her attention. If any part of her questions her past, I’ll hear from her.
My appetite now gone, I zigzag my way back through the crowd. Just as I’m considering calling it a night, I stumble upon the last person I want to see. I try to maneuver my way around him, but he reaches out to touch the side of my arm. “Don’t pretend like you don’t see me.”
“I’m a little busy, Miles.”
“But it’s a party. A party that you’re not even hosting. You’re not busy.”
Inwardly groaning, I look up into the familiar face that I’ve known and loved for years. Blonde hair. Bright, charming green eyes. And a smile that used to make me swoon. It’s hard not to look at him and be reminded of how many good memories the two of us shared. So many good memories—all shattered by one bad one.
“I’d heard you moved away. I was hoping that wasn’t true.”
I don’t even acknowledge that with a response. “What do you want?”
“For us to be friends again.”
“Not gonna happen. Can I go now?”
He frowns sadly. “Just because we’re no longer together doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Char. I miss you.”
“Sometimes that happens when you break up. Deal with it.”
“Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now?” he asks, reaching for my hands. “It’s not fair that we can’t speak anymore. We’ve been friends since we were kids, Char. When are you going to forgive me?”
Six months of anger brews inside my chest, threatening to spill over. I want to walk away, be the better person, and pretend like I don’t care one way or another. I want to show him he has no power over me anymore. But his indignation is what sets me off. At this point, I’m too pissed to let it go.
“Maybe if you’d ended our relationship when you first realized you were unhappy, things might be different, Miles. Maybe I could still be your friend. But you didn’t. You stabbed me in the back.” I point my finger at him, poking him in the chest to drive my point home. “I’ll never forgive you for the pain you caused me. Friends don’t do that to each other. Why should I care about what you’re going through, huh? You didn’t have the same respect for me while you were fucking another girl behind my back.”
“Charlotte, you know I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t want your excuses or your apologies, Miles. I just want you to leave me the hell alone. My love wasn’t the only thing you lost the day you broke my heart. You lost my respect as well. And I don’t have to be friends with you just because of our history. This is my chance to not repeat it.”
He stares at me incredulously.
“Well said, my friend.”
That familiar voice takes hold. When I turn around, I almost cry at the sight of Doll standing there. She’s glaring at Miles, her amber eyes almost fiery. Having a friend on my side feels really good. I throw my arms around her.
“It’s so good to see you.”
She hugs me back. Over my shoulder, she says, “You can go now, Miles.”
“This is between me and Char,” Miles says, sounding pissed.
“If you remember correctly, there are a lot of things that should’ve stayed between you and Char that didn’t.” Doll lets me go, then steps around me. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You need to accept that and move on.”
Miles clenches his jaw, looks at me for a long, tense moment. I know he’s expecting me to say something, but I don’t. He finally marches off, cursing under his breath.
I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me. Somewhere deep down, there is a girl that used to love him. I know how much he misses me, because I feel that too. You can’t love someone for almost half your life, and then try to erase them like you’re wiping away chalk from a chalkboard. Miles will always have my past, but that doesn’t give him any right to my future. Maybe one day I will come to terms with what happened. Maybe I’ll even find a way to forgive him. But I’ll never forget. I’ll never want to be his friend again.
Doll slips her hand around mine. “Let’s go out to the courtyard. I want to hear everything.”
As soon as we’re away from the crowd, tears spring to my eyes. We sit on a bench outside as I tell her everything that happened in Miami. The story pours out of me; until now, I hadn’t realized how much I needed to talk to someone. Doll listens without saying a word until I’m finished.
“I feel better,” I say afterward, inhaling a deep breath.
“Good,” she smiles.
She leans back on her hands, her eyes drifting around the courtyard lazily. “Did you know this is where Wes and I officially met?”
I crinkle my brows together. “Didn’t you guys meet at Harland’s funeral?”
She shakes her head. “No, I mean when we really met. It was at Graffiti Bash, remember? I hated him back then. If you had told me then we’d end up together, I would’ve laughed in your face.”
“That’s right,” I say, the memories flooding back. “Wes was so concerned about you that night. He told me about the girls who ruined your hoodie.”
“Oh yeah. Bitches.” Doll shakes her head. “Anyway, I guess the reason I mentioned it is because you never know how time will change your situation. Look at us now. Who would have ever guessed we’d come so far?”
I see where she’s going with this. She’s trying to give me hope, and for some reason that makes me frown. I want to be pissed off at Max the same way I am with Miles. I don’t want to feel this way; it’s easier to shut someone out when they don’t have a tight hold on your heart. I wonder if that means I’m still holding out hope that he’ll suddenly wake up and realize he made a mistake.
I won’t hold my breath.
***
Just as I predicted, it’s hard to sleep. I wrestle over whether it’s a mistake to not tell Max about Francesca. What if she doesn’t call tomorrow? What if it turns out it’s not really her? It would crush him. No, I can’t call him yet. Not until I know for sure.
Rain beats against the roof and windows, making it harder to get any rest. When I finally do fall asleep, I dream about Max. We’re on the beach, a storm brewing around us just like on the day we first kissed. Black clouds expand across the gray sky, thickening and flashing with sharp bursts of lightning. I try to talk to Max, but he just stares at me, frowning. I shout at him, trying to tell him about Fiona, but he doesn’t hear me. My voice is muffled by the sound of the rain. Max continues to frown, shaking his head disapprovingly. Nothing I do works. The louder I raise my voice, the harder the rain pours, drowning out my words. Every time he shakes his head, I feel my heart growing heavier and heavier.
I wake up early the next morning, shaken by the dream, and the first thing I do is reach for my phone. My shoulders droop. There aren’t any new texts.
Dammit.
That girl better not let me down.
Eventually I’ll have to accept that this is where I live, but not today.
I go into the kitchen to make breakfast. Hayes is awake. He’s sitting on the couch watching TV.
“What are you watching?” I ask while stirring granola into a bowl of yogurt.
“Battlestar Gallactica.”
“Is it good?”
Hayes hits a button to pause the show, then looks up at me. “Is it good? Are you serious?”
I shrug. “I’ve never heard of it.”
He pats the cushion beside him. “Sit. Now. We’re starting a marathon.”
I don’t object. A marathon of mindless television sounds like the perfect way to kill a few hours. I grab my bowl and plop down next to Hayes. He gives me an annoyed look—he’s obviously not cool with me eating in the living room—but he doesn’t comment on it. He’s trying.
The show is pretty good. Definitely a geeky sci-fi type of story, but interesting. I can see why Hayes loves it, and I’m grateful that it’s keeping me distracted.
Around noon, I finally hear my phone buzz. I jump up to check my messages.
Meet me in the library on campus in an hour
The text is from an unknown number.
It’s her.
I squeeze the phone against my chest, bouncing on the balls of my feet. She’s actually going to meet me! I’m so relieved and so excited, I have to take several breaths before I can think straight.
I quickly text back OK, tell Hayes to pause the marathon until I return, and then hurry off to get ready.
As I’m getting dressed, the doorbell rings. I ignore it, figuring it’s for Hayes. No one knows I live here except Doll and Vanessa.
A few seconds later, Hayes lightly raps on my door. “Charlotte, it’s for you.”
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