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I ate a pastry before taking a shower. The massaging jets felt so good I didn’t want it to end. Someone draped my clothing across a seat at the vanity and left a typed message from Dr. Foster to stop by her office for a follow-up. The fluids, medicine, and sleep worked wonders. I highly doubted she was in my medical insurance network or that I could afford her. Still, I tucked the note into my purse, jump-zipped the back of my pink dress and left the room.
The house was like a museum with vaulted ceilings, renaissance paintings, and sculptures. The furnishings seemed much older than Paul, whose tastes appeared more modern, fashionable, and sophisticated. I could only assume this was his late wife’s influence.
Paul’s driver, Laurence, appeared at the bottom of the grand marble staircase. The sound of classical music filled the air. “Mr. Crane is practicing. I’m to drive you home.” He handed me a slip of paper with the room number of my dorm with a key taped to it.
“I’m sorry about you having to carry me last night. Let me pay for your dry-cleaning—”
“It’s been taken care of, and I’m happy to see you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you, Laurence.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Sokol.”
“Nadia, please.”
I followed him to a Porsche parked in a garage below the home. Laurence asked me about my comfort and adjusted the cushion settings. “You’re spoiling me. I have to go back to thedorms.” I grimaced, thinking about my flat-as-a-board mattress. My phone buzzed with a new message from my mom.
Mom: I returned your five hundred dollars. I wish I could send more, but we were behind on paying bills for everything. The bank claims an accounting error or something. We have a surplus of ten thousand dollars! Don’t tell your dad I’m spending the money. He doesn’t trust it and wants to send it back.
My stomach muscles twisted in knots.
While Mom took the sudden windfall of money as a blessing, my dad was rightly suspicious. He’d need more of an answer, and I didn’t know what I’d tell him without making him worry about me more. I didn’t fully understand why Paul Crane had paid so much money to help me. He didn’t need to buy me. I’d have gone out with him. But that was the point; he didn’t want to date me. No matter how I’d dress it up, Paul wanted me as his escort.
On the other hand, Dad’s health insurance premium was astronomical and didn’t cover the cost of his medicines. He’d become sicker because we couldn’t afford to pay for his pills. Our living expenses were tight since he became ill, and Mom became the sole breadwinner. We were always months behind in our bills. If he received a new kidney, that would cost a lot, too.
Taking money from Paul already made me feel uncomfortable and in his debt.
Before I knew it, Laurence had stopped the car in front of the dorm building I recognized as Xander’s. He handed me his card. “This is my number. Paul doesn’t want you sick on the subway. You are to call me for a ride to Dr. Foster’s office.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Jesus. He’s like a super-anal micromanager. Honestly, I can catch the subway.”
“If you want to get on my good side after ruining my suit, just do it. Deal?”
“Thanks for the guilt trip.”
“Hey, whatever works. My wife says I’m good at that.” He held out his large hand, and I shook it.
Skipping the elevator, I walked up the three flights to my new room and found the door slightly ajar. To my surprise, Isabelle was there.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you go out with Sophie last night? You went to the Lollipop mixer. Why are you still wearing an evening dress? Please tell me you didn’t spend the night with one of those guys. They won’t pay if they try the goods first.” Isabelle wrinkled her nose as she fired off questions at me.
“Slow down,” I pleaded. “I’ll answer your questions, but you probably should stay back. I have a cold.”
She backed away and ran her hand protectively over her small baby bump. Her phone chimed, and she held up her hand to answer it. “Hello, Sophie.”
I grimaced, and her brows rose.
“Not a good time. Don’t come over. I’m serious. I’m about to leave. You need to vent. Fine…fine.” She hung up and cursed. “She’s coming over. What happened between you two?”
I sat down on the thin mattress of the unmade bed. “The dean moved me out of our shared room.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
I bit my lip. What could I tell Isabelle without sharing too much about Paul Crane? Honestly, it seemed too odd to explain. So, instead, I tried to stick to what happened to me.
“Because of what happened at the Lollipop mixer. I didn’t tell on Sophie, but they decided it would be better if we didn’t share a room.”
She lowered her brows. “That’s telling me nothing. Start from the beginning, please.”
