Why do I feel so bereft?
Marcus barely glances at me for the rest of the ride.
“We have a lot of catching up to do,” he says, and his eyes glint as he looks over my clothes, my curves. He presses his lips together but doesn't say anything.
I'm glad of it. I think if he made one comment about my body right now…
What am I doing? Why am I with him?
I fucking hate this.
But I don't hate being home.
When the car pulls up in front of my house, my mother comes to the front door, her eyes wide and searching for me, and a lump rises in my throat.
Ashland had actually texted my mam from time to time, keeping her in the loop. She's kept her distance from me, allowed me to have my space.
So I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for the door handle.
“I'll pick you up at seven,” Marcus says coldly. “We'll go out to dinner, and we'll discuss what's next.”
“I—thank you,” I say.
He reaches for my wrist, his grip a little too firm. I give him a curious look, but he only tugs me to him, puts his hand on the back of my head, and kisses me.
I stiffen.
It feels wrong.
It feelssofucking wrong, like kissing a wax statue, cold and lifeless. Nothing like…
“I missed you, Bianca,” he says against my lips.
Why does that feel like a lie?
“I want you to go inside and talk to your mother. I'm sure she's been worried. We'll sort everything out tonight at dinner.”
The old Bianca would have asked if he was angry with me. The old Bianca would have wanted to apologize.
Not now.
Maybe a little vacation from Marcus Crowning was exactly what I needed to see the truth.
“Bianca!”
Mam runs to the car, her arms outstretched, and gives me a warm embrace.
“I missed you,” she says. “Tell me everything.”
And that's when I realize I don't have that much to tell her. So I give her a weak smile. I've always been terrible at lying, so I don't think this is the time for me to start making up fibs.
“I'm tired, Mam,” I say. “And I've missed you.”
That, at least, is the truth.
“Well, who can blame you for wanting a little adventure?” She sighs and gives a long, wistful look at Marcus's retreating car. “No one wants to go straight from college into an engagement, do they? Not without a little freedom first.”
Right. Somethinglike that.
