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“Connor.” Her cheeks turn from pink to rosy. It’s too easy to rile her up.
I unlock the car with the fob and open her door for her. She hops up and I climb in on the driver’s side.
“What’s the event for?” Thea asks, clicking her seatbelt.
“Children’s hospital. A fundraiser benefit, sponsored by Mom’s campaign. She gives a speech, blah blah blah.” The engine rumbles to life and I pull out of the lot. “Really boring stuff. I hate that I have to go at all.”
“So why do you have to?” She chews on her lip and tilts her head.
“Her platform and approval ratings center on her being a family woman. A leader, a mother, a wife.” I scoff, knowing how much of it is manufactured to keep her numbers high over the guy running against her. “Pretty much everything comes down to politics. Trust me, I’ve tried to get out of these things. She’s…difficult. Persistent.”
Thea hums. “I know what that’s like. Mine is always breathing down my neck.”
My grip on the wheel tightens. I want to tell her I know all about how her mother is, but we’ve just got to a good place and I already gave up one piece of myself today.
“So if it’s all about
family stuff, why is it important for you to show up with a girlfriend?” She fiddles with the radio and stops on a song she must like, because she bobs her head to the upbeat music. “Is that why it’s a fundraiser for the children’s hospital?”
Thea is being nosy again, but it doesn’t stir the same ire. In fact, I like her curiosity. She’s asking good questions, strategic ones I would pose myself.
“Yeah. Real flimsy, if you ask me.” I cock my head as I turn onto our street. “She doesn’t have other children, so if I show up with you, it sends a subliminal message of her being a grandmother someday. Nurturing a legacy.”
“Oh, so now we are having those two point five fake kids?” Thea taps my arm with a light swat. I park in my driveway. She certainly took that better than I expected. “You should’ve told me, dear. That will affect my outfit.”
I sit back in my seat, angled toward her, totally aware of the crooked, dopey smile on my face. I don’t do a damn thing to wipe it off. She keeps surprising me.
Thea winks—or, she tries to, it’s sort of a pained blink with both eyes that does things to my heart that shouldn’t be scientifically possible—and hops out of the car. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, sunshine.” I sit in the car, watching her all the way to her house.
The girl next door has me under her spell.
Seventeen
Thea
Raised voices catch my attention late Friday afternoon as Constantine follows me out of the house. I stopped at the store to restock the baking ingredients that were getting low. Mom is out for the weekend on a spa retreat, and Dad is on a trip to Salt Lake City for a conference. It’s just Constantine and I, which means the kitchen is all mine, so I’ve got all my bakes lined up until I need to play girlfriend for Connor tomorrow night. It worked out perfectly that my parents are out of town, so I don’t have to explain the dress hanging up in my room or where I’m going.
“You need to keep him away from me.” Connor sounds pissed as he stalks across his lawn to his Lexus GX. “I’m not playing. I don’t want anything to do with him. Not eat his food, not talk about his day, not play happy family when we’re dysfunctional as fuck! This is bullshit!”
Mrs. Bishop stands with her arms crossed, and the younger man I recognize as their family friend who comes to their house several times a week is beside her.
“Come back inside, where we can discuss this.” Mrs. Bishop’s tone is sharp enough to cut and her platinum, sleek bob sways. There’s something about the set of her features that’s disconcerting, like they’re too perfect. “You’re making a scene.”
Constantine lets out a low boof and plants himself between me and our neighbors, standing sentry while I grab groceries from the trunk of my Mini Cooper. I shake my head with a wry smile. He’s a seventy pound overprotective lap dog. He’s not fooling anyone.
I grab the last bag from the car and catch Connor’s eye. The turmoil in his gray gaze shocks me. He looks away, jaw working.
Is he embarrassed? I didn’t think he cared what the world thought of him.
His mom gives me a shrewd once over, hyper aware of my presence. When she speaks again, she regulates her tone, sounding kinder. “Why don’t you come inside, sweetheart? Dinner is almost ready.”
I’m gripping the bag of flour and sugar, debating with myself. Don’t get involved. But I can’t ignore it, can I? It might not be my place to intervene, but damn it, the look on Connor’s face like he’s the only one in his corner hooks my insides and tugs hard. I won’t stand by while he’s hurting.
Not when I know how hard it can be to deal with parents.
Setting the bag of ingredients on the hood of my car, I cross the driveway to stand at his side. Constantine follows, laying down in the grass in front of my feet.
