Page 41 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

EMILY

Months later

T here’s something surreal about pulling up the hill to Lothrop Hall. The sun catches the glass of the hospital nearby, throwing gold streaks over the city skyline. The trees around the University of Pittsburgh feel greener, taller—like they’ve grown up with the students who’ve come and gone.

And now I’m one of them.

Lothrop’s the only dorm with single rooms, and I couldn’t be more grateful. My lucky streak of never having to share a space with anyone is still going strong. The only things we share are the bathrooms. Just like at home.

I try not to think about home.

My mom’s here. So is Aidan. And I’m more than ready to escape them both. The past few weeks have been unbearable—their constant wedding glow, their loud planning sessions for a future I was never invited into. I’ve never felt more alone. Not with Cole.

Especially not with Cole.

I’ve cried myself to sleep too many nights to count. My notebooks are filled with words I’ll never say, filled with things I’ll never let him read. But deep down, I keep telling myself I did the right thing.

At least…I hope I did.

While Aidan poses in the hallway—signing autographs and taking selfies with swooning fans—my mom helps me tape up photos along the wall like nothing’s wrong. Like she hasn’t shattered a hundred small things and called it motherhood.

“I’ll send you pictures of our real house for whenever you’re on fall break,” she says.

I don’t respond.

I’m not going home for fall break.

I make a mental note to look up part-time jobs and sublets—anywhere I can go for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Anywhere but there.

“I’ll be back out in a second,” Aidan calls to the girls in the hallway. “Just need to grab a new Sharpie.” He steps inside and closes the door gently behind him, then glances at me. “You got one by chance, Emily?”

“Yeah.” I open my desk drawer and hand him one.

He lingers by the wall, pointing at a row of photos from the Steinbeck Retreat.

“I like how this wall’s coming together,” he says.

“I’ll have to tell my friend it was worth it to skip you to the front of the line since you enjoyed it so much.

Shame some girl got bumped for it, but hey, that’s how connections work, right? ”

Wait. What?

Before I can respond, he leans over, presses a light kiss to my mom’s cheek, and slips back into the hallway.

“Oooh!” My mom holds up a framed photo of us outside a Hilton. “I didn’t know you framed this one!”

“What did Aidan mean by skipping me to the front of the line for the Steinbeck Retreat?” I ask, cold.

“Since you’re clearly doing a hotel-motel-hotel pattern on this row...” She stands, holding the photo at arm’s length. “This one works here, right?”

“What the fuck was Aidan talking about, Mother?” I snatch the photo out of her hands. “I know you heard me.”

“I didn’t hear him say anything.” Her poker face is so bad it’s laughable. “All I heard was that he liked your wall.”

“You told me you saved up to pay for that retreat,” I say, voice low. “You said it was your money.”

“I know.”

“So…were you lying?”

She shrugs. “What does it matter? You went to a place you’ve been dreaming about. I just got a little help, that’s all.”

“You didn’t just get help—you used Aidan to rig the system. Someone else didn’t get to go because of me. Do you get that?”

“I don’t see why this matters, Emily. At this point?—”

“It matters,” I cut her off. “Because it wasn’t just a lie. It was another scheme to make yourself feel like the perfect parent. Like you sacrificed something. But it was never about me. It’s never been about me. It’s always about what makes you look good.”

“Of course you belonged there.” She scoffs. “I bet your writing was some of the best in the group.”

“Did you pay for it,” I ask, “or did you use your boyfriend to pull strings and pay for it?”

“Emily...”

“Did you lie to my face, knowing the whole time?”

She offers a weak smile. “I did save up for you to go. But…I didn’t budget well. I had to spend that money on a few other things. When I brought it up with Aidan, he said he knew someone. That someone knew someone else, and...it all worked out.”

Silence.

“Can you leave now?” I ask.

“I thought we were going on the campus tour...”

“I’m sure you’re used to canceling plans with me. Let’s just add that to the list.”

“Emily, you’re making a huge deal out of?—”

“Nothing?” I snap. “You think it’s nothing?”

She leans back.

“I have always told you the truth,” she says quietly. “And I’ve always looked out for us.”

“No,” I say. “You’ve only ever looked out for me when it didn’t come at a cost to you.

You lie and manipulate and call it love.

But it’s just control. It always has been.

You’re selfish as fuck. Unfit to be a mother.

And I’m done. I’m done making excuses for how fucking terrible you are.

I’m done sacrificing my life for a pedestal you never deserved. ”

“Emily—”

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

She doesn’t move.

“Fine.” I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “When I come back, I don’t want to see you or Aidan. I’ll call ‘home’ if there’s an emergency. And I hope you’ll do the same.”

I step into the hallway and walk right past the fangirls and their questions, past the smiling photos and autographs and performance. I keep walking.

Severing off another branch of my life.