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My lips part. Forget this, standing up to her is pointless. I swipe the pages from my blog and hop down from the stool.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Those aren’t the only copies, dear. Be smart. Tell me your price, or I’ll show my son.”
A wild laugh escapes me as I back away from her. “You think you can blackmail me?” It’s kind of hilarious, actually. I wish Connor was here to see this. He would get a kick out of it. “Bye, Mrs. Bishop.”
Heart in my throat, I get the hell out of there. On the way, my phone rings. I wait until I’m in the Bishop’s driveway before I pull it out. When I see who it is, a sound catches in my throat.
“Connor!” I answer, pressing the phone to my ear in a white-knuckled grip.
“Thea? Are you—? I’m almost home. Can you meet me in the pool house?”
I turn back to face his house, my stomach roiling. The last twenty-four hours weigh on my shoulders after facing off with his mother and my own.
“Yeah.” I sniffle, wiping my nose. “Of course. Are you okay?”
“We need to talk.”
My stomach drops.
The call cuts off.
“Connor? Connor! Damn it.”
I almost drop the phone as the printed pages slip from my grasp, cascading all over the driveway. Doubt engulfs me as I crouch to gather the pages blaring my secret.
Between the ideas both our mothers planted in my head, I dread what Connor needs to talk about.
Thirty-Three
Thea
There might as well be a singed path in front of the pool house from the serious, stressed-out pacing I did in the last ten minutes waiting for Connor. The entire time I had myself half-convinced we’re breaking up, like both our mothers want.
My inner critical voice wreaks havoc, running rampant with the worst things I think of myself, clawing at my mind with one berating thought after another.
Not enough, silly girl, my mind chants.
The anxiety has ratcheted so high, I’m sure any second I’ll puke up all the sugary confections Maisy and I gorged ourselves on last night. Double chocolate fudge cake is coming back for a gruesome revenge.
I threw out the printouts I took from Vivian, but what if she already told Connor?
The tense, resolute expression on Connor’s face when he finally rounds the house to the backyard with a laptop and thick file in hand doesn’t help alleviate any of those poisonous thoughts. I smother a sound that should belong to a dying animal, not a girl seeing her boyfriend for the first time in days.
The last time we were together, we talked about loving each other. Now I’m certain those were our last happy moments. Something in my bones braces me for the impact of this conversation shattering my heart.
One smile from him could save it.
“Hi,” I say hoarsely when he’s close.
Connor doesn’t smile. The first crack in my fragile heart splinters, catching me off guard.
“Come inside.” He glances around, watchful of our surroundings. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, about that,” I croak, wringing my hands. “You’re kind of freaking me out. Maybe you can put a girl out of her misery over here? I’ve had a rough couple of days.”
“You and me both, baby,” Connor rumbles, reaching for my hand and squeezing it.
