My stomach drops as I realize where this is going. “That’s very kind, but?—”
“Darling, let’s be frank.” Her perfect smile never wavers. “You and Alfie... it’ssweet, really. But we both know it can’t last. Different worlds, different expectations.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Why waste time on something temporary when you could be building your future?”
She hands me something. I turn it over in my palm. The business card feels heavy in my hand. Another person trying to “handle” my life, decide my path. I think about Mom and Troy’s careful lies about Dad, their perfectly crafted protection of poor fragile Tara. At least Mrs. Spencer is direct about her manipulation.
“Think about it. Your dream career, everything you want, just waiting. All you need to do is step aside. Let Alfie find someone more suitable.” Her eyes gleam. “Someone like Marcie, perhaps?”
The worst part is, for just a second, I understand why Alfie keeps himself so guarded. Why he expects every relationship to be a transaction. Standing here, watching his mother try to negotiate his happiness like a business deal, it all makes horrible sense.
“Connections are everything in this world, dear.” She places a cold hand on my arm. “The right word from me could change your life.”
“Thank you for the offer,” I say quietly, “but I think?—”
“Don’t answer now.” She pats my arm. “Sleep on it. Think about your future.” Her smile sharpens. “Justremember - opportunities like this don’t come along every day.”
She turns to go, then pauses. “Oh, and Tara? Let’s keep this between us. No need to upset anyone unnecessarily.”
I stand there long after she’s gone, feeling sick. The truly twisted thing is, she probably thinks she’s being kind. Offering me a way out while getting what she wants. But all I can think about is Alfie’s face when his grandmother mentioned his grandfather, the way he lit up talking about CalTech, how desperately he’s fighting to be his own person.
And I realize something, I might have started this night pretending, but somewhere between defending his research and watching him struggle to breathe, it stopped feeling like an act.
16
ALFIE
Ifind Drake hovering outside, smoking a cigarette. I don’t say anything but I know Lisa hates it when he does that and he promised to stop once they got married.
“She’s a firecracker, that one.” Drake laughs. “She’s telling Mother about the most recently found dinosaur bones. I mean, that’s surely not first impression conversation?”
I should laugh along. Should agree it’s inappropriate. It would get Drake off my back. Instead, all I can think about is how Tara’s smile makes me want to smile too.
How she makes everything feel morealive.
“She’s not right for this world,” Drake continues. “Not Spencer material.”
“No,” I agree quietly, but for entirely different reasons. Because she’s too genuine, too bright for our shadows. Because I’m starting to want things Ican’thave.
“CalTech, huh?” He taps out the ash. “Grandpa would’ve loved that.”
Something in his voice makes me pause. “Drake.”
“No, really.” He turns, and for once his smile seems genuine. “He always said one of us would end up there. Used to bore everyone at board meetings talking about his research days.” He laughs softly. “Drove Father insane.”
I shift awkwardly. “I didn’t think you remembered all that.”
“The telescope lessons? The way he’d sneak us up to his study during Mother’s parties to look at Jupiter?” Drake takes a drink from the crystal glass he’s got rested on a brick wall; I hadn’t noticed before. “Of course, I remember. I just... somebody had to carry on Dad’s legacy in aviation. Keep the family business going.”
The words hang between us, heavy with everything we’ve never said. With choices made and paths not taken.
“You could’ve—” I start, but he waves me off.
“No, I couldn’t. Not really.” He sets his glass down. “But you can. You’re actually good at it. The science stuff, I mean. Like he was.”
I don’t know what to say to this Drake. This version who remembers telescope lessons and admits he has dreams. Or feelings.
“Besides,” he adds, his familiar smirk sliding back into place, but it seems more practiced than natural now, “someone’s got to keep Father’s empire running while you’re off playing with space rocks.”
“They’re mineral formations,” I correct automatically.
