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While I try to stop the smile that springs up, it wins the fight. “Me too, baby.”
Crossing the short distance between us, I take calculated steps and try to gauge if she doesn’t want me to come near her. When she doesn’t say anything after the first two steps, I close the distance and cup her face with my hands, and she grabs my wrists. Brushing her cheek with one thumb, Emree leans into my touch and nuzzles her head against my hand and shuts her eyes.
After a moment of quietness with us standing together, crystal-blue eyes meet mine. “Is that who Liliana is? The woman your parents…chose for you?”
A lump forms in my throat. I nod, and Emree tenses and pulls back from me, but I maintain my hold on her. “She is. I’ve barely spoken a couple sentences to her before this week.”
Her eyes widen, shocked at my announcement. “You didn’t even know this woman? How can your parents expect you to marry someone who is a stranger?”
“It’s how the Dugrays do things.” I laugh, but there is no humor behind it. “They expect us to date, be engaged by the end of summer, and get married after graduation. My father wants me back up in Boston working under him the moment the wedding is over.”
“Ugh.” Emree lets out an exhausted breath. “I hate this. Your family sucks. Liliana sucks. This entire relationship sucks.”
Frustrated, Em backs away, breaking my hold on her, and storms into the kitchen. “I need a drink.” She pulls down a bottle of Patrón and a shot glass from the top cabinet beside the oven. Filling the glass, she tips her head back and downs the shot.
“I’m sorry, Em,” I admit to her as I come up to the kitchen entrance, making sure to keep my distance. With all the shit I just dropped on her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she got the urge to smack me across the face. Not that it wouldn’t be justified.
Emree fills the glass one more time before shooting the shot. “I just have one question, and I really need you to leave after that,” she whispers, her back still to me as she faces the cabinet.
“Okay.”
Turning, Emree’s face comes into view and her jaw is clenched. “Why, Conrad? Why did you date me and let me fall for you these last six months? You knew nothing could ever come of this, yet you strung me along for half a year, all while lying to me.”
This is the one question I haven’t wanted to answer because I have been lying to myself about the real answer. But while I can lie to myself, I could never do that to Emree. The last six months weren’t a lie to me because what I felt for her was real, and in another life, it would have been a different ending for us.
Being sure that she is looking me in the eyes so that she can see there is nothing but truth in my words, I answer her. “Because I was falling in love with you, and the thought of leaving you made it hard for me to breathe.”
21
EMREE
Because I was falling in love with you, and the thought of leaving you made it hard for me to breathe.
Two days ago, I asked Conrad to leave my apartment at two in the morning after his answer to my question. Without another word, he nodded and walked out the door. The moment I heard the click, my defensive walls broke. I cried like I never cried before while standing in my kitchen in the middle of the night.
The next morning, I woke up to a steaming cup of coffee beside me, the smell wafting into my senses and Blaire’s smiling face looking down on me. Even though I was exhausted from the emotional night and getting to sleep late, I knew I would never get rid of her without going into detail about what happened with Conrad. After an emotional morning, where Blaire, the sweetest person I have ever met, threatened Conrad with bodily harm if he tried to come near me again, we decided to order a large breakfast to be delivered and spent the morning in our pajamas watching reruns ofGossip Girl.
While the threat was delivered via text in our “friends” group chat, which I left the day after he dumped me, her message was met with approval from Camden and Maddox. Conrad did not reply, but she knew he had heard her loud and clear.
After a TV marathon, Blaire and I decided to pamper ourselves with mani-pedis, and I can’t help but admire my new pale-pink nails with tiny daisies on the ring fingers. Nothing helps to get over a broken heart like treating yourself to luxuries.
The sun is beating down on my skin, and I soak in the vitaminDand sip on my green juice while reviewing the notes I took during my last class. While my head has been spacy the last couple of days, I did not want what was going on with my personal life to affect my schoolwork. Having a partial scholarship means I must maintain a certain grade point average.
“Well, well, well. Hello, gorgeous,” a deep voice breaks my concentration. Gazing up, Ian comes into view. His face bright with the glow from the midday sunlight and his shining smile on full display.
While I hadn’t talked to Ian since Friday night when he dropped me off at my apartment, he did text me Sunday afternoon to make sure we were still on for a second date. Guilt fills me, remembering that I haven’t replied to his question. That is one of my biggest pet peeves, and I don’t want him to think I am ignoring him.
“Hey, how are you?” I ask him, matching his smile with my own. Gesturing with my hands, I invite him to sit across from me. He drops his backpack and lowers himself into the seat.
Resting his elbows on the table, Ian leans forward. “Not so good, if we’re being honest. Kind of digging this girl I met a few days ago, and it seems she may not be feeling the same way about me.” He smiles the entire time he is talking, and I’m glad he doesn’t seem like the type who would be angry with being ghosted. Ian reaches forward and grasps my hand in his rough one.
“Yeah, I suck. I’m so sorry, Ian,” I tell him honestly. “There has been a lot of drama in my life the last few days, and my head has been swimming since Saturday.”
Leaning in close enough that I can smell the minty scent of his breath, Ian nudges his head over my shoulder. “The drama have anything to do with the guy who is currently ready to come over here and pound my face in for talking to you?”
Without looking in the direction Ian is indicating, I know who he is talking about. While I didn’t see him when I took up occupancy at this table, it doesn’t take a genius to know there is only one man who wouldn’t like me sitting here with another guy.
“Dark-blond hair and brown eyes?” I inquire.
