“Elizabeth,” she whispered. “Not again. We’ve spoken about this. I told you to stop worrying. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I promise.”
“Mom—” I started.
She cut me off. “I gotta go, love.” Without another word, she hung up.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds and considered calling her back. She probably wouldn’t answer… couldn’t answer. That familiar tension twisted my insides. Texting wasn’t an option because he had full access to her phone.
Rage burned inside me as the uncomfortable memories of him flooded my mind. That manipulative jerk who always made me feel like I had nothing more to offer the world than my looks. Thecontrolling monster who ridiculed and belittled and shoved me into modeling. The cold narcissist who loved me for one second and discarded me the next.
A scream hidden deep in my chest threatened to escape.
Shut up, sit pretty.
Do what I say and do it perfectly.
There were a handful of Douglas one-liners I could recite by heart and even now, even with years apart and distance between us, a burst of fear and fury was born at the mere thought of him.
I stepped into the shower, reminding myself that I was safe and free. If I didn’t need Douglas, neither did my mom. Why couldn’t she see that? I was doing everything in my power to make that obvious. And yes, this place was tiny, but if I got the job at Simucon, we could move somewhere bigger.
I was stuck in my mind while getting ready. I opened my closet and considered the handful of outfits I’d fled LA with. Just as I was about to pull out an ordinary pants and shirt combination, my grandmother’s voice crept through my chaotic thoughts:Just because you don’t feel good doesn’t mean you can’t look good.
Desperate to feel better, I chose my prettiest floral-print dress and hurried out of the house earlier than usual. With enough time to spare, I caught the bus. My wallet was stretched a little too far after accommodating the gas for that site visit.
I took my seat and stared out the window, thinking of all the things I could say to my mom to convince her to leave him.
As if caused by my mood, the clear skies darkened. By the time we reached my stop, the gray clouds had cracked open and rain came pouring down.
I squeezed through to the door, and as soon as my cowboy boot hit the ground, I rushed toward the office. It was a five-minute walk. A three-minute run. But it was three minutes too long.
By the time I stepped inside, I was soaked.
The wet walk of shame to Mr. Carden’s office was even worse than I’d expected it to be. Aside from the cold air stinging my dripping skin, the other interns gawked as I walked by. Cedric even spun around in his chair with that awful, smug smile slapped across his face.
But I would not cower and summoned all my grandmother’s energy. I pushed out my chest and glided by, despite Cedric’s gaze tearing across my every revealed curve. I glanced over my shoulder and delivered a cold stare, sending daggers. He gulped, shifted, and spun toward his laptop screen.
My fake confidence ran out the second I was inside my office. My shoulders fell, and my head dropped. I longed to be dry and safe in my office chair, crouched behind the little divider that would grant me a moment’s privacy.
Mr. Carden’s eyes flicked upward from his screen, and he took in my appearance. His gaze lingered far less than anyone else’s, but I suffered under the weight of it. Embarrassment and self-awareness heated my core. I crossed my arms.
But he didn’t stare or say anything to make me feel any worse, only “You should go home and change. It can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s okay.” I shivered. “I live forever away. I’m only a little wet.”
His dark eyebrows popped up and drew close. He flattened his mouth—something he only did when he was problem-solving. After a beat, he stood and opened the closet in the back corner. With a quick glance my way, he then pulled out an ironed gray shirt. A shade lighter than the one he wore today.
He held it out. “I might have spare pants.”
I reached out for the soft, dry fabric and then held it against my body. It landed in the middle of my thighs.
His light brown cheeks reddened, and I bit down on my lip,stopping myself from smiling. It didn’t take much to make him blush.
He spun toward the closet, rummaging through it. He took the shirt I held and exchanged it for a different shirt, which was slightly longer, but not by much.
“No pants. But you can take this.” His voice jumped as he spoke while he continued digging, with loud nervous energy, into the depths of the closet. He pulled out a black coat that would go down to my knees.
Unable to resist testing the limits of teasing, I said, “I’ll just wear the shirt. It covers all the important bits.”
He winced as though he was experiencing pain. “Elizabeth. Please.”
