Page 28 of The Doctor

Clara

My textbook for my first summer class was spread before me on the patio table, but my mind was spiraling far, far away. Back to Paulo’s estate. To Zee’s car. To that kiss that he’d left branded on my lips.

I could still feel him a week later. I could feel the way his hands gripped me so tight, I thought he’d left a permanent mark. The temperature between us was so hot, I swore my skin melted right off my face.

I loved him. And I knew he loved me. He told me all the time.

But not like that.

Each time those words ran through my head, I wanted to cry. It’d taken everything I had to hold it together while he sat beside me in the car on the ride home.

I couldn’t believe him.

I couldn’t.

Because believing him would mean an end to me, to every single dream I’d ever had.

I loved him.

And I was going to show him he loved me too.

“What are you doing out here?”

Pulling myself back from my little fantasy, I turned my attention to my mother. She was impeccably dressed, as usual. Her perfect blonde hair pulled up in a perfect updo. Her makeup was so precise, sometimes I wondered if she’d had it tattooed in place. The only thing about her that didn’t match the polished, flawless persona she always put forward was the scowl that rippled across her otherwise beautiful face.

The scowl was directed at me, and likely a result of my newly dyed hair.

“I’m studying,” I told her, flashing her a smile that was as fake as the lie ready to spill across my lips.

“Again?” She huffed out a breath. “I swear, Clara, that’s all you ever do. Why aren’t you out spending time with your friends? The semester hasn’t even started yet.”

Another admonishment for the daughter who could do nothing right.

As if she didn’t expect that much and more out of me. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect friends.

I stuffed it down into the dark recesses of my mind, along with every other reproach she’d ever given me.

“I was bored, so I thought I’d work ahead. Besides, I’m going out with Chloe and Sadie tonight.”

At that, she brightened. “Oh good. I haven’t seen those two in so long. I’m glad to hear you’re not ruining your friendship over this”—she waved her hand in the direction of my textbook—“school… nonsense.”

Another thing I couldn’t get right.

“What are you three planning on doing?” Suspicion laced her tone.

My smile dropped and I lowered my gaze. “We’re going out to dinner, then having a sleepover at Sadie’s.” My mother put a hand on her hip, and when I looked up at her arched brow, I offered, “Chloe’s bringing a bottle of Pinot.”

As if she expected as much, she gave a slight nod, letting her perfect brow fall back into place. “Just don’t drink too much. No one wants a sloppy drunk.”

“Yes, mother.” She liked me this way—perfectly demure, doing exactly as expected. Being with preapproved friends, confessing to a minor transgression that people my age did all the time.

Too bad it was all a lie.

She gave me a little smile—because twenty-five years and two children later, Daphne Vinci still didn’t appreciate being reminded that she’d pushed two small watermelons out of her vagina—and took a step toward the door. “Your father and I are going out.”

“Have a good time.”

She studied me for a moment, then decided whatever she saw was enough.