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I don’t fucking know anymore.
Mom’s regarding me suspiciously, her hand clutching the phone by her ear. And more to help her sleep at night than to defend Mr. Black’s integrity, I say, “Really, Mom. No. He never hit on me or anything. I just overheard him and Audrey having a fight the other day and was being nosy, that’s all.”
She relaxes a little, blowing out a breath. “Okay. God, I’d never forgive myself if I brought you into a house where a man…” She shakes her head, not even finishing the thought. Then she looks up at me, a hint of a spark lighting in her eyes. “Are you and Lincoln dating?”
“What?”
Now I’m the one caught flat-footed.
I normally don’t keep anything from my mom, but the way Linc and I started was so messed up, and there were so many parts of the picture I couldn’t fill in for her, that I never told her about it at all. And I definitely haven’t told her about what happened in the pool house last night.
“Samuel mentioned something about it.” She smiles. “I think it’s great. He’s cute. And I’m glad you have a shoulder to lean on right now.”
Then she reaches out with the phone and taps it against the glass, scowling. When she puts it back to her ear, she adds, “But these are the kinds of things a daughter should tell her mother. I know it’s weird talking like this”—she gestures around us, encompassing the correctional facility visiting area—“but we need to get used to it.”
There are words implicit in her statement that she doesn’t speak aloud.
We need to get used to it… because it might be this way for a long, long time.
Linc’s fingers thread through mine on the way back to the house, our joined hands resting on my lap. Music blares through the speakers, and little flurries of snow drift through the air outside the windshield. The cloudy sky is pure white, and although it’s still bright out, everything seems drab in this harsh, colorless light.
It all seems to match my mood too perfectly. I miss the buttery sunshine of Arizona.
When we reach the Black mansion and head in through the side door from the motor court, delicious smells are floating out from the kitchen. Gwen usually does a pretty elaborate meal on Sundays, and I think it’s the only night of the week the family always eats together. I never paid all that much attention to it because I was usually up in Mom’s apartment, sharing meals with her.
Mr. Black catches us before we reach the stairs, his usual beaming smile in place. It makes my skin crawl in a way it never used to.
“Ah! Just the two people I was looking for.” He turns to me, his smile melting into a look of sympathy and concern. “How is your mother?”
“She’s fine.”
I don’t mention the fact that she had to let her private lawyer go. I’m not telling him shit about my mom, not giving him anything else he can use against her.
His eyelids flicker slightly, like he can tell from my voice that I’m lying or hiding something. But I just gaze blandly back until he shakes his head and reaffixes his smile.
“I’m glad to hear that. Keeping her spirits up is so important. She’s lucky she has you.”
“What do you need, dad?” Lincoln asks, draping an arm possessively around my shoulders. He doesn’t seem to like his dad talking to me, and although our reasons might not be the same, I agree with him wholeheartedly.
“Well, I thought I’d ask Harlow if she’d like to join us for dinner.” The strands of silver hair at Samuel’s temples gleam as he inclines his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Gwen’s making lamb. I know it’s a little late to do the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but I thought since you two are dating now, we should all get to know each other a little better.”
I go still in Linc’s embrace. Fuck no, I don’t want to have dinner with Samuel Black. But I don’t know how to get out of it without making it awkward or suspicious, so when his gaze lands on me, I nod.
“Sure. I’d love that. Thanks for the invite.”
“Wonderful! I’ll tell Gwen to set an extra place at the table. We’ll eat at seven.”
He strides toward the kitchen, and Lincoln tilts his head to look down at me. “You don’t have to, Low. Those dinners are usually boring as fuck.”
“No, it’s okay.” My arm went around his waist when he draped his around my shoulders, and I grip him a little tighter before stepping back. “I didn’t know what I was gonna do for dinner anyway. I should study a little before we eat though.”
I press a quick kiss to his lips before escaping upstairs, but I can feel his gaze on my back as I hustle up the steps. He knows something is bothering me, and it’s only a matter of time before he demands to know what it is
.
We arrived back at the house at 3:30, so I do some serious studying for the next few hours. Finals are right around the corner, and I’m honestly not prepared for them.
At 6:30, I change into a nicer outfit—I’m not really sure what the protocol is for these things, but I want to look like I at least made an effort—and at a little before seven o’clock, I make my way downstairs.
