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Chapter One
Savannah
The August heat hits me the moment I step out of the taxi, thick and oppressive in a different way from Charleston. It’s not that Southern humidity, but a baking, oven-like heat that makes me feel as if I might catch flame just standing outside for too long.
New York City smells different too—exhaust and hot pavement and a sort of crowded, lived-in smell that makes my stomach flutter with equal parts excitement and terror. I’m standing on the sidewalk outside the NYU graduate housing building, my two suitcases at my feet, and for the first time in my twenty-two years, I'm completely alone.
No father watching my every move. No household staff reporting back to him. No Thaddeus hovering at my elbow, his hand possessive on the small of my back.
Just me.
The thought should be liberating. Itisliberating. But there's a tightness in my chest that won't quite release, a voice in the back of my mind that sounds suspiciously like my father reminding me that this freedom has a price. That I've already agreed to pay it.
Don't think about that now,I tell myself firmly, grabbing the handle of my larger suitcase.You have two years. Two whole years before you have to go back for anything more than the occasional visit and holidays.
The building's lobby is mercifully air-conditioned, and I take a moment to catch my breath while a student worker checks me in. He's much less friendly than what I’m used to back home, all efficiency and no small talk, handing me my keys and a packet of information about move-in procedures. I quickly discover that my apartment is on the fourth floor, and the elevator is out of order, apparently.
By the time I've hauled both suitcases up the stairs, I'm sweating through my linen blouse despite the building's AC, and my carefully styled hair is starting to frizz at my temples. So much for making a good first impression on my roommate. I pause outside apartment 4C, smoothing down my hair and taking a deep breath before I knock.
The door flies open before my knuckles can make contact.
"Oh my God, you must be Savannah!" The girl standing in the doorway is tall and curvy, with dark curls pulled into a messy bun and a casual, effortless style I've always envied but would be grounded in an instant if I ever tried to put into practice. She’s wearing ripped jeans, an oversized band t-shirt, has multiple ear piercings and a nose piercing, and a smile so genuine it immediately puts me at ease. "I'm Vivian. Vivian Davis. I’m your roommate! Come in, come in! Let me help you with those."
She grabs my smaller suitcase before I can protest, chattering the entire time as she leads me into the apartment. It's smallbut bright, with two bedrooms off a shared living space that's already been decorated with colorful throw pillows and string lights. Through the window, I can see a sliver of the city skyline.
"I got here yesterday, so I already claimed the room on the left—I hope that's okay? They're basically identical anyway. I'm in the Art History program, first year. What about you?"
"Classical Archaeology," I manage, following her to the empty bedroom. "First year."
"Oh, that's so cool! Like Indiana Jones stuff?" Vivian sets my suitcase down and turns to face me, her eyes bright with interest. "Wait, you're from the South, right? I can hear it in your voice. Where?"
"Charleston." I set my other suitcase down, suddenly self-conscious about my accent. I've tried to soften it over the years, but it always comes through stronger when I'm nervous. "South Carolina."
"I love Charleston! I went there for spring break once. So beautiful." Vivian leans against the doorframe, studying me with open curiosity. "So what brings you all the way up to New York? Besides the program, I mean."
The question is innocent and friendly, but it makes something twist in my stomach.What brings you to New York?Freedom. Escape. A desperate bargain with my father that I'm still not sure was worth the cost.
"I wanted a change," I say instead, which is true enough. "And NYU has one of the best classical archaeology programs in the country."
"Well, you're going to love it here. The professors are amazing, the city is incredible, and the dating scene—" Vivian grins wickedly. "Let's just say there are a lot more options than in Charleston, I'm guessing. Onandoff campus."
I force a smile, thinking of the engagement ring currently locked in my jewelry box, the one I'm supposed to be wearingbut plan to only put on if need be, if Thaddeus is coming to visit. Not that I’m planning on doing anything… untoward. I just don’t want the constant reminder, or the questions that would come from having that rock on my finger.
The ring that represents the end of all those options Vivian is so excited about. Not that I ever really had all that many options to begin with. Just the illusion of them.
“The guys are going to gonutsover you,” she continues in a burst of excited chatter. “Your hair, that accent, man, you’re going to be the hottest commodity on campus?—”
"I'm actually engaged," I hear myself say, and immediately regret it. I don't know why I told her. Maybe because keeping secrets feels exhausting already, and I've only been here for twenty minutes.
Vivian's eyes widen. "Oh!” She sounds startled, changing tone immediately. “Congratulations! When's the wedding?"
"After I graduate." The words taste bitter. "In two years."
"That's a long engagement." There's something in Vivian's tone that I can't quite read, but she doesn't push. Instead, she straightens up and claps her hands together. "Well, we should get you unpacked! And then I can show you around campus. Classes don't start until next week, but there's an orientation thing tomorrow for new grad students. We should go together."
