To last night. To Wes. His warm lips, his body moving against mine. My pulse spikes at the memory. I grip onto the fabric tighter.Focus, Nina.Iamfocusing, just on the wrong thing. His hands, touching me in secret, forbidden places. My teeth dig into my lower lip as my body flushes with heat. I’m remembering his soft breath against my thighs. And his tongue ...
I’ve done it again, I realize, as I return to myself with a sharp, too-loud gasp. The same stitch. Shoot. Deja could fire me for this, and I wouldn’t even blame her. The whole point of me staying back at the workshop was to make some headway on these masquerade dresses, and I haven’t even finished the skirt I’ve been working on all day.
The way he looked at me last night in my pretty dress. The way his eyes lingered. Then how he looked at meoutof my dress ...
“Nina.” A voice draws me back into the moment.
I blink at Deja in surprise. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that it likely wasn’t the first time she said my name, either. “Hmm?” I ask, then shake my head. “Sorry,what?”
“I was telling you it’s time to go home.” Deja frowns at me, searching my expression. “Girl, are you okay? You look all ... flushed.”
I do my best to laugh as I ease myself up and out of my chair, abandoning the skirt for tomorrow. I’ll be better able to focus then, after the family meet and greet is over. That’s tonight. But I won’t think about that. I’ll remember Wes’s promise to me last night, that he’ll find me afterward and try to sneak me out of the hotel. Take me for a long drive, the windows down. Just the two of us. I wonder what he’ll be wearing. I hope it’s something that makes his eyes really stand out. They’re such a beautiful green ...
“Nina,” Deja says again, bordering on irritated now. “Go home.”
“Okay.” The sooner I get home, the sooner I’ll be able to go on my date with Wes. I’m so distracted by the thought that I miss the doorknob once, twice, before I manage to get it open. Then, smiling like an idiot to myself, I hurry up to the fourth floor.
I’d planned to make myself scarce once I got back to the hotel suite. Aunt Hope and the kids might’ve wanted my help getting camera-ready for the family meeting, so I thought I’d make myself useful, but otherwise I was going to hide in my room. If not, I suspected my excitement for tonight would be too obvious on my face.Wes.Being outside with him. Looking up at the stars. Holding his hand. Kissing and snuggling and ... maybe more.
I couldn’t wait.
Instead, when I step into the suite, I’m surprised to find my entire family, everyone who’s here in Green Valley—sans Harmony—in the sitting area. They’re already ready for the family meet and greet, even though that won’t happen for another hour or so.
I stop in my tracks, taken aback by the sight of them all dressed up, looking at me solemnly. “What’s going on?” A sudden, panic-filled thought struck me. “Is Harmony okay?” Maybe there was an accident on set. I can’t think of any other reason why everyone would be looking at me this way. My gut tightens instinctively with fear. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Sit down,” Aunt Hope instructs me tightly, motioning to a chair that’s been positioned opposite the sofas where everyone else is sitting.
Without meaning to, I glance over at Uncle Aaron. He is silent but watching me, and he has that look on his face that I’ve come to recognize well. He’s about to teach me a lesson—and despite the somber expression on his face, I can see from the gleam in his eyes that he’s really, really looking forward to doing it.
Oh, God.
Uncle Aaron knows. Somehow, he knows. About the undercover operation. Everything. I have to warn Wes. I have to dosomething.
Every instinct in my body is urging me to race for the door. But with Uncle Aaron watching me like that, any bravery I’ve managed to summon over the past few days deflates out of me like an old balloon. For so many years, he’s been the one in charge, and I’ve been docile Nina, doing whatever he says. It’s hard to shake that pattern, even after recognizing now that it’s wrong.
Obediently I take a seat. My hands are shaking so badly in my lap that I clasp them together like I’m praying. Maybe I am.Help me.
As if taking my cue, Uncle Aaron finally speaks up. “Let’s begin with prayer.” We all bow our heads automatically, the most deeply ingrained instinct in the Miller household. “Lord, please guide us in holy paths. Please lead us away from temptation. Please save us when we have fallen so far from your grace.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever heard more ominous words spoken, especially when they’re directed at me. This isn’t the first time Uncle Aaron has preached at one of us directly through his supposed prayer to God, but the stakes are so high now. What does he know? Is it about Wes? Him being an undercover agent? Or what happened on the roof last night? Those memories are so special to me. What we experienced together was so tender, sogood. But at the thought of Aaron knowing about them, berating me for them, I can feel the shame begin to creep in, distorting and tainting them into something I hardly recognize.
No.No. There is nothing shameful about what I did. I cling to that resolve, but it feels like a tiny buoy being tossed around in the waves during a storm.
“Forgive us for our weaknesses, Lord, and forgive us for our sins. Especially deceit and treachery. Making a mockery of the people who have given us welcome and shelter. Give us the strength to be transparent with our transgressions, and to ask the Lord for full forgiveness. Amen.”
“Amen.” I make myself say the word, even though it’s chalky in my mouth. But it’s possible Uncle Aaron doesn’t reallyknowanything, that he’s just guessing.And I refuse to do anything to allow him to point the finger of blame at me, even something as small as not properly closing off a prayer.
Silence stretches out for what feels like a very long time, though it’s probably less than a minute. When I finally summon the courage to raise my gaze to Uncle Aaron’s, he’s watching me expectantly. “Anything you’d like to tell us, Antonina?”
The words are probably meant to be intimidating, but that last one—that formal use of my full name—gives me an unexpected surge of resolve. He doesn’t know me. Not really. We’ve lived under the same roof for years, but we’ve been strangers that entire time. He couldn’t tell you my favorite color or the foods I don’t like or my hopes or dreams or what makes me laugh or anything even remotely important about me.
He’s a stranger. Why should I give a single damn about what he thinks of me?
I cling onto that thought as I hold his gaze. It’s easier said than done. My body still responds instinctively to him, my muscles tensing, my stomach roiling. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I shake my head at him. “No.”
Thenoclearly takes both him and Aunt Hope by surprise. I see the furtive look she casts his way. Uncle Aaron doesn’t take his eyes off me, though. “Fine. Why don’t we do some reading?”
The suggestion throws me for a loop, though I do my best not to let it show on my face. I’m so thrown off that when Uncle Aaron hands me some printed pages, I take them without question. My eyes scan the page, expecting some Bible verses that he will have selected to reprimand and shame me.
