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2) My mother is an esteemed psychiatrist (graduate of Harvard Medical School). Your mom is a waitress at a diner and a high school dropout.
3) My father is a managing partner at a prestigious law firm (graduate of Harvard Law). Your dad is serving yet another prison term for selling drugs (maybe earned his GED while serving time?).
4) I live in a $5 million home at Lake Norman, and you live in a trailer park.
4) My parents hate you and are threatening to disown me if I don’t break up with you, and your mom hates me (at least that’s one thing they have in common).
Please understand, I love you despite all of this. And maybe that was enough for high school. But it’s time for us to grow up and stop saying stupid things like we’re getting married at eighteen, and to hell with our parents. We’re not kids anymore, we have to start thinking like adults. My time with you was amazing. It’s a memory I’ll always cherish, but that’s all it can ever be.
I can barely see this letter because I’m crying so much while I write it. But I know this is for the best. After I get my MBA from Harvard, I’ll likely go to work for one of the big investment banking firms in New York or London. What will you have accomplished by then? Will you ever be able to give me the kind of life I’ve grown accustomed to? Will we always be forced to live off my earnings?
I’m not trying to be a cold-hearted bitch, I’m just trying my best to be rational about this. I love you, but I know you’re not what’s best for me. It’s time we go our separate ways so we can reach our full potential without holding each other back.
I hope the best for you, Rhence. I don’t know what that will look like…but I do wish the best for you.
My parents have decided to extend our European vacation to last the whole summer, so I’ll only be home for a day or two before I head to Harvard. PLEASE take this warning seriously, my parents will have you arrested if you show up at our house.
I know this all sounds so harsh and sudden, but a clean break is really the best way to end this. Please respect my wishes. Do NOT attempt to call or text me because I won’t answer (besides, my mom still has my phone, which explains this written letter).
I really wish you the best,
Rache
When I first read the letter, I thought she was playing some sort of colossal joke. After the second read, I thought maybe it was one of her friends being a dick. After the third read, I really got pissed. But at no point did I believe these were Rachel’s sentiments or words. It sounded nothing like her, like maybe her parents were forcing her to write it.
Naturally, I blew up her phone with an avalanche of calls and text asking what the fuck and to please, please, please call me back. But true to her word she responded with a silence so loud it nearly shattered my world. My anguish and turmoil left me an angry fireball lashing out at any and everyone. But then it got worse. Desperate for information about Rachel, I went to her mom’s Facebook page and found tons of photos and videos of Rachel having the time of her life in Paris. In several of the photos, she was surrounded by guys her age at swanky parties or on a yacht living la vida loca. I was in the lowest pits of hell while she was living the dream life she’d painted in the letter. She was showing me a glimpse of her new life…minus me. I don’t think she was home for more than a day before her parents whisked her off to Harvard, all the way in Massachusetts.
That’s when I knew it was really over and that even if her parents had pressured her to write the letter, her summer in Europe reminded her of the rich, vibrant life she was meant to have and therefore, she was perfectly happy to shed her loser boyfriend from the trailer park.
I sit up in the bed now, so angry I could leave without a word. She has the temerity to pretend she has no idea why I disappeared. Doesn’t know what she possibly could have done to make me stay away. She claims that she came back to search for me, but my mother swears that Rachel never came around asking about me.
And now she’s only too happy to hop on my billion-dollar dick and ride off into the sunset with me. Hell no, you spoiled little bitch. I won’t let you hurt me first. I’m going to take you all the way to the edge, make you believe I love you more than life itself, then drop you off an emotional cliff so high I hope the fall kills you.
I’m furious at the way my eyes burn at the memories. Seeing Rachel lying so peacefully makes me want to throw a glass of cold water in her face. I leap out of the bed and head to the ensuite bathroom. I lean over the sink and stare into the mirror.
“What the hell are you doing?” I mutter to myself. As badly as I want to hurt Rachel, I suspect that I’m the one who’s going to end up getting burned again.
Chapter thirteen
Rachel
Iwakeuppleasantlysore from some rather physical love-making. With the more mature version of Rhence, sex is more vigorous and demanding. He’s much more confident taking charge, knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it. And I like it.
It’s Saturday, but I know he has to get to the office early this morning and there may not be time to go out to eat. I’ve never been much of a cook, but I hop out of bed intent on preparing a quick breakfast for him before he heads off. By the time he rises, I manage to make some coffee, a veggie cheese omelet, and toast.
“Smells good,” he says as he walks up behind me and nuzzles my neck.
“Have a seat,” I chuckle and point a spoon at the breakfast bar where a napkin and eating utensils await him. He pulls up to it and sits on the stool. I hand him a warm plate.
“Thanks, babe,” he says, taking up his fork and diving in.
“I’ll go grocery shopping later this morning so I can fill the fridge with food you like.”
He’s chomping on a bite and makes a dreamy face. “This is delicious. I’ll eat whatever you cook as long as it tastes this good.”
I sit next to him and shake my head. “Look at us playing house and everything like proper grownups.”
“Wasn’t that always the plan for us?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This is sort of what I had in mind when I proposed to you in high school.”
