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Jesus, but her father is a bastard.
And her sister…
Elise is devastated—almost limp as I hold her against me. We’re both late to homeroom, but I take her to the girls’ bathroom and help her wipe her face. In that quiet, echo-y space, she tells me that her dad said she couldn’t see me again.
“He’s crazy, and obviously he doesn’t want me to be happy—since he’s not.” She wipes her eyes and sniffs. “Don’t worry, I know we’re not dating for real.”
“We’re doing whatever you want, la mia dolce rosa.”
She dabs at her eyes with tissue. “What does that mean?” There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips, which makes me feel so fucking good.
“Sweet rose.”
“Why am I a rose?” Her lips curve.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. But that’s not true. I think it’s because she’s so damn perfect. My mom always says there’s nothing prettier than a rose. “Maybe because of how you looked the other night.” I say it teasingly, but I’m sure she can see I mean it.
“Now I’m rose-colored.” She fans her face with her hand, rolling her eyes. I think about teasing her again, but decide to give her a break.
“You know, a lot of the thirty days you’re grounded are school days.”
She nods.
“And your dad won’t know what happens here, right?”
She hesitates before saying, “I hope not.” She wipes her eyes. “But I can never see you outside school.” Another tear falls. “Not even on the sidewalk, when I get dropped off.”
“I don’t remember any interactions offered on the sidewalk.”
She smiles, looking abashed, and I pull her up against me. “I’m just fucking with you. I don’t give a shit about the sidewalk. We’ve got covered bridges, baby.”
That makes her giggle. She steps closer to me, so I’m fully hugging her, and fuck, it feels so good having her against me. I smooth her hair back off her forehead. “You want to try something? Tomorrow, I’m bringing you my favorite cake. It’s lemon cake. Every day, I’ll bring you something. Food, or other stuff. Just something to give you a distraction.”
More tears fill her eyes as she looks up at me, and I laugh, though it’s part groan. “That’s not what I was going for.”
“Thank you,” she says. She looks down at the boots she’s wearing, shy again. I hug her. I can feel her exhale. Then she kisses my pec through my T-shirt. “You’re my favorite fake boyfriend.”
I could keep the joke up, but I don’t. I kiss her hair instead. Just so she knows this isn’t fake to me. She gives me another of her sweet smiles, and I kiss her one more time because I can’t help myself.
Then I walk her quickly to her homeroom. I double back to the guys’ bathroom before going to my own class. I’ve still got blood under my fingernails. I need to scrub it off before I hold her hand at lunch.Chapter ElevenEliseI wait on the sidewalk beside the tennis court like one of Pavlov’s dogs. It’s day seven of my grounding, which means it’s Friday. Which means tomorrow and Sunday, I won’t get to see him.
I hate that, but I can do this. I can wait out my dad. So can Luca.
Despite Dad promising to talk to me about my transgressions, he sent Mom—the first night she and Bec were back home. She came into my room as I was tucking into bed, nearly giving me a heart attack because I assumed something was wrong with Becca. She sat on the edge of my bed in her floor-length, green silk robe and told me, “Don’t defy your father, shona. Trust me, you will regret it if you do.”
When I asked her why—why Dad cared so much about Luca, and how he knew the Galantes—she just shook her head and left the room.
Since then, a few strange things have happened. Mom had the housekeepers move the furniture in my room one day while I was at school, and when I asked about it, she said something about fresh starts and changed the subject. My cell phone got a clip-on protective cover one morning while I was in the shower. And then, a few days ago, the school counselor called me into her office. We talked about my scholarship and plans for next year. I guess that’s not so weird, but something about the timing felt suspect.
So, as of the other day, I’m walking to school. I told Mercer, the elderly Englishman who’s been on our household’s payroll since I was a baby, that I didn’t need rides home from school until it gets colder in a few weeks. Then this morning, I told him I didn’t need a ride to school either. I let my mom know so no one can say I’m trying to be sneaky. I told her Dani’s walking now, too—which isn’t true, but she’s not going to call Dani’s mom. They’re not even friends.
