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“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“He has his reasons. And we’re casual. Because I have my reasons too.”
The phone buzzed again from the coffee table.
“Shiloh.” Bibi wasn’t messing around.
I heaved a sigh and reached over to pick it up. I had two missed calls and a half dozen texts.
Are you okay?
Shiloh?
WTF??
“It is Ronan.” I closed my eyes for long moments, then set the phone back down.
“Talk to me, baby,” Bibi said, her tone gentle now. “Come on. I know your mama didn’t do right but I’m getting scared.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, hauling myself to sitting. My braids were getting rough, my sweatshirt stained. “I hate myself like this. Mama hates me, period.”
“She doesn’t, honey. But I hate that she makes you feel this way. So you think being alone is the only way to be strong.”
“Because it’s true. I can’t open my heart and be strong at the same time. I can’t…be in love and still be in control.” I gestured at my nest on the couch. “Look at me. Mama was here for ten minutes and it wrecked me for three days.” I shook my head. “I have to be alone. I have work to do.”
“You choose to be alone because it’s safe. Because your mother hurts you terribly, and I’m so sorry for that, Shiloh. I’m sorry you feel the need to protect yourself. But Ronan…he’s a good man, yes?”
I nodded, my hands twisting in my lap. “But how long before…?”
“How long before what, baby?”
“Before he sees what Mama sees? How long before he decides he doesn’t want me either?”
“Oh, sweet girl…” Bibi gathered me to her, held me tight.
God, I felt so pathetic. So weak. My chest torn open. Exposed. My heart bleeding for my mother and beating for Ronan. The tears tried to come but I willed them back and shook my head.
“Never mind,” I said, gently extracting myself from Bibi’s embrace. “I’m going to school tomorrow. I’m going to get my shop. That’s my only goal. It’s where I should put my energy. Not in silly boy drama that I promised I’d never get involved in. Because I was right. It’s just a distraction.”
A beautiful, sexy, intense distraction that I can’t stop wanting.
“No, Shiloh.” Bibi’s voice was back to firm. “Marie coming here is the distraction. Don’t let her words poison you. Not against Ronan and especially not against yourself.”
I smiled for Bibi’s sake. “I’ll try,” I said, but it felt too late. Mama’s rejection had burrowed down, planting roots that had gone so deep I didn’t know how I’d ever tear them out.
We ate a quiet dinner, and soon after, Bibi went to bed. I stayed on the couch in the dark; the only light was the glare of the TV. The Simpsons was a too-bright blare of yellows, blues, and reds.
I must’ve dozed off because I was jolted out of my skin when a hard rapping came at the door. The night was deep and dark when I peered through the peep hole. Ronan was angrily pacing our front walk, rain drenching him.
I threw open the door. A square of light from the house fell over him, illuminating his face that was hard and angry. His dark hair was plastered down over his forehead and cheeks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Are you alright?” he demanded.
“Of course, I am. What—?”
“Good.” He practically spat the word, then turned to go. He took two steps and whirled around, whipping wet hair out of his eyes. “I mean…what the fuck, Shiloh?”
