Chapter 43
When I stumble into the kitchen with a pounding head and dry mouth, both of my parents are waiting for me. I hustle straight for the espresso machine, pressing the necessary buttons. I took two painkillers and downed a glass of water as soon as I woke up, but nothing has kicked in yet.
“Day off, Dad?”
He crosses his arms before answering, always an ominous sign. “I took the day off, Wren, and got up at six a.m. to drive here after your mother texted me in the middle of the night, saying a stranger drove you home and had to carry you inside because you were too drunk to stand.”
“He’s not a stranger. He’s … important.”
“Important? We’ve never even met this boy.”
“He’s not a boy either. He’s twenty, the same age as me. I am sorry for staying out so late and for drinking. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s more than last night, Wren,” Mom says.
“Your behavior has been extremely erratic lately. Everything seemed to be going so well at Cambridge, and then you come home and tell us you broke up with Pierre. You resisted coming here at all. Suddenly, you’re extending your trip, and now you’re out half the night! ”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“Honey, it’s not a matter of you apologizing. It’s you telling us what’s wrong. All we want to do is help. Do you miss Cambridge? Help us understand what’s going on.”
I scoff. “I don’t miss Cambridge.”
“You don’t? You seemed … happy there.”
“Cambridge is fine. I like it as much as I would any school. I told you and Dad for years that I didn’t want to go to college. You never listened. So, I’m getting the super-important degree, okay? I won’t be the least educated Kensington.”
“You could have gone anywhere,” Dad says. “If you’re not happy at Cambridge and you want to transfer, we can discuss alternatives.”
Mom nods in agreement. “If you’re still interested in UCLA, there are—”
“I can’t go to UCLA.”
Mom’s forehead furrows with confusion. “Why not? That’s where you were supposed to go.”
I exhale a long breath. I’m so tired of keeping this from my parents. And it’s not like my grandfather can retroactively let Sawyer drown. “Because it wasn’t on Grandpa’s list.”
My parents exchange one of their patented looks. The sort where they’re watching what they say now but will discuss it with each other later.
“What list?” Dad questions in his low, serious, I’m an important CEO voice.
“Grandpa did me a favor a couple of summers ago. There were conditions for his help, and one of them was that I choose a college from his approved list.”
“Arthur did what?” Mom exclaims.
“Hannah,” Dad says quietly, then focuses on me. “What was the favor, Wren?”
I blow out a breath. “There was a bad storm … Sawyer was out during it. The marina wasn’t doing much. I figured Grandpa would know someone important to call, and he did. I couldn’t do nothing.”
“And your grandfather required you to switch colleges in exchange for making a phone call?” Mom sounds pissed. Incredulous.
“I wasn’t that enthused about UCLA anyway. I’m probably happier at Cambridge than I would have been in California. Most of my classmates have never heard of Kensington Consolidated.”
“Most?” Dad questions.
Mom shoots him an exasperated look. “Really, Oliver?”
“You should have told us, Wren,” Dad tells me. “Your grandfather had absolutely no right to insert himself in any part of your life. It was … reprehensible for him to use your feelings as a pawn to get what he wanted. I will speak to him as soon as I’m back in the city.”
“Don’t.” I lift my chin. “We made a deal. He was clear about his terms. I accepted.”
“Terms, plural?”
I should have known Dad had been in too many negotiations to miss that slipup.
“He had me break up with Sawyer too.”
“Your grandfather knew about this boy?” Mom asks. She sounds stunned. A little hurt too.
The espresso machine shuts off with a gurgle. I reach for the mug, taking an eager sip despite the steaming temperature.
“I told you, he’s not a boy. And, yes, Grandpa found out … accidentally. He didn’t approve. And it probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway since I was leaving. But, yeah, that was the other condition.”
Mom exhales. “I have a meeting I can’t miss. We’ll talk about this more later, Wren. Drink lots of water today, okay?”
I nod, sipping more coffee. “After I finish this.”
She walks over, kissing the top of my head. “I love you.”
“Even when I’m a delinquent?”
She huffs a laugh. “Even then.”
Mom heads upstairs to get ready for her meeting.
Dad straightens from his pose, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Grab some breakfast and meet me out on the patio. We have a lot more to discuss, including this”—he grimaces—“important guy.”
For the rest of the day, I attempt to be productive.
I clean my room, pack my suitcase, swim a hundred laps, shower, and then spend a ridiculously long time on my appearance.
I head back downstairs at quarter of five.
Mom is in the living room with Aunt Scarlett, who I haven’t seen since Lili’s engagement party.
“How are you, Wren?” Scarlett asks, standing to give me a hug.
“Hungover,” I admit.
The painkillers eradicated the worst of my headache, but I still feel sluggish. I’ve never overindulged the way I did last night, and I’m not sure if I should be grateful or resentful that Sawyer showing up made it possible. Worse, I have a vague memory of explaining that to him.
My aunt glances at Mom, who’s undoubtedly wearing her disappointed expression.
“I wouldn’t have known,” Scarlett says, winking at me. “You look beautiful. And very grown up. Are you headed anywhere special?”
“No,” Mom answers before I can.
I sigh. “Mom, I promise I’ll be home in an hour. Probably less.”
“Where are you going?”
“A … residential area.”
Scarlett raises her glass of iced tea, but not before I see her smile.
“A residential area,” Mom repeats. “Like a boy’s house?”
I huff. “I told you, he’s not a—”
Mom raises her eyebrows, making me think that’s not an argument worth having.
“I just need to talk to him,” I state. “It won’t take long.”
“Did something happen to your phone?” Mom asks mildly.
“You should be happy I prefer face-to-face interactions to relying on technology like most teenagers.”
“You’re not a teenager anymore, Wren, as you often point out.”
I sigh. “I am really sorry about last night. But this is really important. I need to … thank him.” I fix Mom with my most beseeching, pleading expression.
She purses her lips, and I brace myself for another no. But then she glances at the mantel clock.
“One hour, Wren. Not a minute more.”
“Deal.” I wave goodbye to Aunt Scarlett, then spin toward the doorway.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that boy knew which bedroom was yours last night!” Mom calls after me.
I park on the street in front of Sawyer’s house, then sit on his front steps again. I check my phone every few minutes, wary of the ticking clock. Last night, he was home from work by five fifteen.
I’m typing a reply to Gia’s latest text when I hear my name called. I glance up, seeing the black sedan idling along the curb. Gus is in the driver’s seat, waving.
I stand, leaving my phone and walking slowly toward the open window. Facing him isn’t as embarrassing as apologizing to Sawyer will be, but it’s still plenty humiliating. I like Gus. I care about his (likely low) opinion of me.
“Hey, Gus,” I greet, leaning down and resting my elbows on the door. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” he replies, usual grin on his face. “Big date tonight.”
“Oh, that’s right! What’d you settle on?”
“Drive-in movie,” he answers. “They’re showing Jaws tonight. Summer classic. I packed blankets and candy, like you suggested. Cap is letting me borrow his truck.”
That makes me especially glad I didn’t vomit in it last night.
“That sounds perfect,” I say.
Gus nods, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel a few times. “You, uh, you doing okay?”
“I’ve been better. Apologies if I said or did anything incredibly embarrassing in front of you last night.”
“Nah, you didn’t. Besides, we’ve all been there.”
“Oh, you’ve vomited repeatedly in front of your ex? Cool club to be a part of.”
He laughs, wincing a little. “Uh, not that exact scenario, no. I didn’t know … Cap didn’t mention, um, details.”
I break eye contact, studying the array of baseball caps littering the passenger seat instead. “He has his non-asshole moments, I guess.”
“Hey.” Gus’s voice lowers, compelling me to meet his gaze again. “You were wrong yesterday. I don’t hate you, Wren.”
“You should.”
He shakes his head. “We all tried to get him to come out last night. He didn’t show up to Lucky’s until I told him you were there. And he had to be at work at seven this morning, but he stayed until closing.”
“That was my fault too,” I admit. “I guilted him into staying.”
“Cap is impossible to manipulate, Wren. What does it say that you were able to guilt him into anything? I could never hate anyone my best friend felt that way about.” He clears his throat.
“Anyway, I know you didn’t come here to talk to me.
I just wanted to let you know Cap went to pick his mom up from the base, so he might not be back for a bit.
He left work early, but with summer traffic … you never know.”
“Oh.” Fuck. “Okay. Thanks.”
“You in town for much longer?”
“Uh, no. I leave tomorrow.”
Gus smiles, but this one doesn’t reach his eyes. No matter what he says, he must resent me a little. I certainly haven’t made Sawyer’s life any simpler since I entered it.
“Safe travels.”
“Thanks. I hope the date goes well.”
“I’ll update you … next summer, I guess?”
“Sounds good.” I fix a smile on my face, attempting to ignore the implication.
Gus will tell Sawyer how tonight goes, no doubt, and he doesn’t seem to think Sawyer and I will be in communication after I depart. Which is probably the correct assumption, but doesn’t lend me much confidence, coming from Sawyer’s best friend.
“Bye, Wren.”
“Bye, Gus.”