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He fights a smile. “So are you.”
Would he care if he knew? Probably not, he would probably be relieved that we aren’t related, even by marriage.
“I know you like her, admit it.” I taunt.
“No, I don’t. I don’t even know her.” He looks away. Busted.
“But she’ll be in New York with you, and you can explore the streets there together and get caught under an awning during a dramatic downpour—how romantic!” I pull my lip between my teeth to stifle a laugh at his horrified expression.
“Would you stop? She’s much older than me and way out of my league.”
“She’s too hot for you, but you never know. Some girls don’t care about looks,” I tease. “And who knows? She may be looking for a younger man. How old is your old lady there?”
“Twenty-four. Leave it alone,” he begs, and I decide to do just that. I could go on and on with this, but I have other things to focus on anyway.
“I’m going to move to Seattle.” I feel sort of almost giddy as I blurt out the news. Sort of.
“What?” He leans in, a little too surprised.
“Yeah, I’m going to see what Ken can do about helping me finish the semester through distance learning, and I’m going to get an apartment in Seattle for Tessa and me. I already dropped my grad packet, so it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.”
“What?” Landon’s eyes dart away from mine.
Did he not just hear what I said? “I’m not repeating myself. I know you heard me.”
“Why now? You and Tessa aren’t together and she—”
“We will be; she just needs a little time to think it through, but she’ll forgive me. She always does. You’ll see.”
As the words leave my mouth, I look up to see Tessa standing in the doorway, a deep frown etched onto her beautiful face.
A beautiful face that instantly disappears as she turns on her heel and walks back into the kitchen without a word.
“Fuck.” I close my eyes and lay my head against the couch cushion, cursing at myself for my awful timing.
Chapter forty-two
TESSA
New York is the best city in the world, Tessa—it’s incredible. I’ve lived there for five years now, and I still haven’t seen all of it. I bet that even in a lifetime you never could,” Sophia says while scrubbing at a baking pan that I burned a batch of dough in.
I hadn’t been paying attention. I was too lost in my own mind after hearing Hardin’s arrogant, uncaring words to notice the smoke coming from the oven. Only when Sophia and Karen came rushing into the kitchen from the pantry was my attention brought to the burnt dough. Neither of them chastised me, though, and Sophia just sprayed it under cold water to cool it down and then started scrubbing.
“Seattle is the largest city I’ve been to, but I’m ready for New York. I need to get away from here,” I tell them. Hardin’s face just won’t disappear from my mind as I say the words.
Karen gives me a smile as she pours each of us a glass of milk. “Well, I live close to NYU, so I can show you around if you want me to. It’s always good to know someone, especially in such a big city.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, meaning it. Landon will be there, but he will be just as lost as I will surely be, so we could both use a friend out there. The thought of living in New York City is so intimidating, it’s almost overwhelming, but I’m sure everyone feels like that before moving across the country. If Hardin were coming along . . .
I shake my head to rid it of the useless thoughts. I couldn’t even convince Hardin to move to Seattle for me—he would laugh in my face at New York. And he takes my plans, what I want, so for granted that he thinks I’ll forgive him just because I have in the past.
“Well”—Karen smiles, lifting her glass of milk to mine—“here’s to New York and new adventures!” She beams. Sophia raises her glass, and I can’t help but play Hardin’s words in my head as we toast.
“She’ll forgive me, she always does. You’ll see,” he told Landon.
The fear of moving across the country lessens with each word of his as they play on a loop through my thoughts, each syllable a smack in the face to the tiny scrap of dignity I have left.
Chapter forty-three
TESSA
To say that I’ve been avoiding Hardin would be an understatement. As the days have passed—only two of them, though it feels like forty—I have avoided him at all costs. I know he’s here in this house, but I can’t bring myself to see him. He’s knocked on my door a few times but was met with a weak excuse from me on why I’m not answering.
I just wasn’t ready.
However, I’ve put off what I need to tell him too long now, and Karen is bound to get restless, I know it. She is bursting at the seams with happiness, and I know she doesn’t want to keep the addition to their family a secret for long. She shouldn’t have to; she should be happy and proud and excited. I can’t ruin that for her by being a coward.
So when I hear those heavy boots outside my door, I wait silently, pathetically, both hoping for a knock and wishing for him to go away. I’m still waiting for the day when my mind clears, when my thoughts go back to making sense. The more time that passes, the more I begin to question how clear my thoughts have ever been. Have I always been this confused, this unsure of myself and my decisions?
I wait on my bed, eyes closed and lip throbbing between my teeth, for him to leave before knocking. I’m disappointed, yet relieved, when I hear his door slam across the hall.