“And you let her get away with this?” Soren asks in utter disbelief.
I shrug in a “what can you do” way. The Hartwells were adamant I not punish her for her behavior, so I’ve had to teach lessons in other ways; i.e. pretending they don’t bother me.
He marches her to a chair and puts her there. “Stay.”
She crosses her arms, narrowing her malicious little eyes at him. “Or what?”
“I’ll tie you up.”
She gapes. “That’s child abuse.”
“You’re not my child.”
She looks at me, a spark of fear in her eyes I’ve never seen before. “Are you going to let him do this?”
“Why does everyone keep assuming I haveanycontrol over anyone in this house?”
“You’re on time-out until I say otherwise.” Soren addresses Bella as he pats his clothes.
She glares at him but, surprisingly, stays. Huh. Maybe I’ll have to try that, assuming I’m not fired after this holiday standoff with my old flame.
Soren returns to his chair and sits, crossing his arms and taking turns watching both of us like he’s the babysitter, or the warden. But there's still a spot of flour on his beard, and I can't take him seriously.
The unofficial quiet game lasts exactly thirty seconds before Arabella can’t handle it.
“So…” Bella says. “What did you plan for me for Christmas Eve? I assume that’s why you’re here,” she says, looking at Soren.
He remains stoic and uncomfortable in the far chair. He’s mistaken if he thinks he can stay here, watching us in dreaded silence. I’ll just have to make him leave. And I know just the person for the job.
“He came just for you, Bella,” I offer so helpfully.
Soren looks like he wants to hit something.
What a coincidence. I want to hit him, too.
Chapter 8
Soren
“Ididn’t—”Ipursemy lips and grant Maya another glare. How to get out of this mess? “I came here to say Merry Christmas; that’s it. I have to leave in…” I glance at my watch. Four hours is the time frame I’ve allotted myself to keep an eye on Maya. Anything more, and I risk leaving in handcuffs; any less, and I risk worrying about Maya being severely and permanently injured. Though every passing second I’m here is proving harder than the last not to think about Maya in a way that is not solely observational. But I’m still waiting for Rosie to get back to me and get me out, so… “Three hours and forty-five minutes,” I finish.
Arabella sits straighter and kicks her feet beneath the chair. “That’s enough time to set up the tree!”
I frown, noticing for the first time the lack of holiday decor. There’s no tree? In a place this fancy? I guess the family was supposed to be gone for the holiday, but still. I may be a thief, but I’m no Scrooge, and I spy an opportunity.
“Okay.” I lean back, steepling my fingers and studying her. “I’ll set up the tree. But first, you have to tell me a story. Like, why aren’t you with your parents? Didn’t they want to take you with them?” It’s a touch harsh, and Maya shoots a scowl meant to silence me, but I don’t feel like beating around the bush. I want to know exactly where I went wrong today sothisnever happens again.
Arabella studies me with a serious expression and then seems to decide getting her tree is worth the confession.
“Ditching them was easy. They’re getting a divorce,” Arabella says.
Maya clearly wasn’t in the know about this because she frowns. “They are?”
“Duh.” Arabella rolls her eyes and continues. “Mom’s in Cancun. Dad’s in Hawaii. They haven’t spoken for a week. Both of them thought I was going with the other. You know, like inShe’s the Man. They didn’t even fight about it.” She says it flippantly, but I can read the emotion she hasn’t learned how to conceal beneath her words. “They fight about so many other things,” she tacks on under her breath.
Except her. They didn’t fightforher.
The poor girl just wants to be wanted.Needsto be wanted. The teenager in me resonates with that more than he should. I thought I had shut him up for good by now.
