A shudder rolled through me. “I really hope not.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Asher, probably checking on my packing. He’d already told me not to stress about cramming everything into one suitcase.
“Oof,” Alba whispered.
My hand trembled as I saw the screen. Sharon. There was only one reason she’d call—something must’ve happened to my father.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Kaia,” she said. “I’m glad you answered.”
Her voice was calm. My father must be fine.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m in Emerport,” she said. “I hoped we could meet for a coffee.”
“A coffee?” The surprise slipped into my tone—she’d never offered that before.
Alba’s eyes went wide. Why, she mouthed.
“Yes. Please. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
She’d never wanted to talk, not even when we lived under the same roof. If she asked something, it turned into ammunition later. Like the time she saw me writing in my diary and said she used to have one too. Two months later, she told my father about it.
Privacy meant nothing to Asher’s mother. I didn’t trust her.
“Talk about what?”
“It’s not a phone conversation.” A note of impatience edged her otherwise calm tone. “Coffee Land, Seaside Avenue. Thirty minutes?”
Curiosity won. “Okay. See you.”
As soon as I hung up, Alba worried her lip between her teeth. “That bodyguard friend of Asher’s—you should probably ask him to go with you. Or take me.”
I set the phone on the bed. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s about my father. She’s probably going to ask me to apologize.”
“Then she deserves an A for audacity. He’s the one in the wrong.”
“It’s whatever.” I stood. “She won’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”
***
The coffee shop buzzed with chatter, pop music playing just loud enough to blur conversations. Sharon sat at a window table, stirring the foam of her cappuccino in endless circles, gaze fixed outside.
My steps slowed as I crossed the room. On the walk here, I’d regretted saying yes at least ten times. Too late now.
When I reached her table, Sharon turned, her eyes sweeping over my face. “Kaia. I’m glad you came. Please, sit.”
Was she? What was so important it couldn’t be said on the phone?
I slid into the white wooden chair opposite her. “Why did you want to see me?”
She raised a hand for the server. “Let’s order for you first.”
The silence that followed pressed against my skin. With Asher, silence meant comfort. Here, it felt suffocating—like being trapped in a packed elevator.
When my cappuccino arrived, I took a sip and waited.
