It really might be our last one.
Chapter 31
Roxy
“Ithought this would be a fun weekend,” Tee whines, throwing her head into a pillow on the king-sized bed in the hotel room.
The room that Liam insisted I stay in. The room that was to witness our relationship blossoming. The room that yawns with hurt because he only spent a night here.
Given how drained my budget is after paying for the partnership, I can’t afford to stay here, but I will deal with that later. I will figure it out.
I always figure out the way forward. Lately, that confidence feels… aspirational.
“I’m sorry. I just need to finish this, and then we will go out. I promise.” I look up from my laptop.
“Working on the weekend is a diagnosis,” she quips like she’s had any working experience.
In front of me, the lines in the proposal blur together. I’ve been at it for hours, but I can’t find my flow.
I haven’t been able to find my flow since Liam left. Sending him away seemed like something I needed.
I expected it would give me a much-needed reprieve. An opportunity to name things for what they are.
To re-define myself under these new circumstances. Or maybe accept that the ground has shifted.
It was my pathetic attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. I didn’t expect the hollow gap his absence caused.
In my life.
In my space.
In my heart.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Let’s go out.”
“Really?” Tee jumps up.
We walk around, window shopping on Fifth Avenue before we have one of Father’s men—of course he has Tee under surveillance—drive us to Soho.
Diving into a small hipster coffee shop, we order the sweetest, most complicated, ridiculous coffees on the menu and land on a Victorian-era sofa in the corner.
“Freedom tastes so good.” My sister sighs.
“You will be able to enjoy it fully soon enough.” Itake a loud slurp, enjoying the caramel on my tongue. “Have you looked at colleges here in New York?”
“I will, I will, don’t worry.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just not sure if I want to live here.”
I turn to her. “What do you mean?”
She plays with her straw and then shrugs. “I don’t want to be in your hair. The third wheel, so to speak.”
I stare at her. “Where is this coming from?”
“Ro, don’t take it the wrong way, but you planning my future is no different from my father planning it. You never once asked me if I wanted to go to college.”
I blink at her. “I’m not Father,” I whisper. Am I?
She sighs. “I know. Your future for me is a thousand times better than what Dad has in mind, but it’s stillyourfuture.”
