Chapter 8
8
R AIN
The next morning.
Propped on my elbow, I blink several times and look around the room, trying to figure out where I am.
Oh… James.
The memory of last night comes back to me, putting a smile on my face as I sink back into my pillow.
Still…
I crack an eye open and study the room.
The place is mostly dim, with fluttery shafts of sunlight sneaking in from behind the curtains.
I glance at my phone and check the time.
Shit.
It’s almost noon.
Noon??
I jerk upright and run a trembling hand over my face, thoughts spinning in my head, feeding my panic.
My mind is scrambling, trying to remember… What day is it today?
Oh, no, no… No.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and snatch my phone from the nightstand before swiping the screen impatiently.
Fuck. It’s Saturday.
I have several missed calls.
Daria called a few times, and then, um… Mom?
Eve sent me several text messages back to back.
Eve: Where are you?
Eve: Are you okay?
Eve: Your sister called.
Eve: Your mom comes home earlier.
Eve: Daria wants you to pick her up.
Eve: Her flight arrives at noon.
Shit.
Too late for that to happen.
I call Eve.
“You okay?” she says, short of breath.
“Yes. You?”
“Mm-hmm. They dropped me off at home last night.”
“I know.”
“You do? Where are you?”
“In James Sexton’s bed,” I say, a smile beaming in my voice.
“Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? Are you in the king’s bed? Ohhh… You have to tell me everything,” she says, and for a moment, I forget where I am and how late it is, and that I have to get back and give my mom an explanation, not to say I have to face Daria.
“There’s nothing to tell. Nothing happened,” I say, disappointed.
“What? Are you serious? You said you’d spent the night in his bed...” she says, disheartened, more so than I am.
“I slept alone. He wasn’t even in the room with me. Anyway, it’s a long story,” I murmur, annoyed.
“Oh… Okay. So, when are you coming back?”
“As soon as I can. What did you tell Daria?”
“You went to the market to buy fresh blueberries.”
“Market? Blueberries??”
“What else? I had to come up with a story.”
“Right. Okay… And why didn’t you come with me?”
“I stayed home to make pancakes.”
“Did she believe you?”
“Did she have a choice? I hope you get home soon. I don’t want her on my back. She acted like a bitch, questioning and harassing me.”
“She did the same thing to me. She’s bitter because James doesn’t fall for her tricks.”
“What happened with Nathan?”
“Nothing. He’s a clueless schmuck while James has money and is good in bed.”
“As if you know...” she comments, laughing.
“No, but she does. That’s why her ass is on fire.”
A voice echoes in the background.
“I gotta go,” she says under her breath. “My mom’s looking for me.”
“All right. We’ll talk later.”
I slide my finger over the screen and start texting James.
Me: I need to get back.
A few moments pass.
No answer.
Me: James?
Minutes later, a soft knock comes at the door.
“Miss?”
I jump out of bed and dash to the door. I shift the doorknob. To my surprise, the door is not locked.
An older woman––the housekeeper, I assume––greets me with a warm smile.
She reminds me of my grandma.
“The food is waiting on the terrace, and a limousine is here to take you home,” she says as if I’m family, and it’s normal to find me in his bed.
“Okay. Thank you so much.”
I’m tempted to ask her about him, but something tells me I’m wasting my time.
I’m pretty sure they’re all gone by now.
I change my clothes, swipe my finger across my phone screen, and start typing again.
Me: Am I going to see you again?
The question remains unanswered the entire time I sit at the patio table and eat brunch––spinach quiche and tomato salad.
It’s almost one in the afternoon when I climb into the town car waiting for me in front of the house.
The driver shuts the door and walks around the limo before jumping in and steering the car away.
Slowly, we roll toward the gate.
The place looks different in daylight.
The scenery is breathtaking, soothing, and peaceful, with plenty of trees, the leaves a medley of colors this time of year, and the shrubs showcasing a variety of pink, red, and white roses.
There’s not a trace of cars or bikes.
I reach the local market, and my hope to hear back from him vanishes completely.
I should’ve known.
The driver is waiting for me while I pick up some fresh fruit. Later, he takes me home.
My mom’s Mercedes sits in front of the house as the town car slides next to it.
The limo driver holds the door open while I step out and slip by him, thanking him in a rush.
A few seconds pass before he unloads my bicycle.
I freeze next to him, blankly staring at the entrance, trying to come up with an explanation for my absence.
“Oh… Look who’s here,” my sister utters, strutting out of the house.
I grab my bicycle and wave the man goodbye.
A sigh of relief leaves my lips when he climbs in, closes the door, and veers the car away just as my sister stops next to me.
Her eyes follow the car to the crossroads, where it slowly turns left, heading downtown.
She shifts her gaze to me.
“What was that?” she asks suspiciously.
Luckily, our mother walks toward us as well.
I spend two seconds studying my sister’s face before moving my gaze away, ignoring her question.
My mother’s face beams with a smile.
An attractive woman barely in her mid-forties, she wears an elegant soft knit suit crafted in tones of cream and navy, the cut and fabric flattering her figure.
I get lost in her embrace.
“So, where were you?” Daria asks behind my back.
I break away from my mother, not glancing at my sister.
We both smile, ignoring Daria’s pissy mood.
“The market,” I say curtly.
“I called you,” she says, pivoting so that I see her.
My sister’s smirk gets on my nerves.
“I had my phone turned off.”
“Why did you have to call a town car?” Daria asks, flicking her chin and pointing to the bicycle.
“I rushed home when I found out Mom was coming,” I say, flashing an ingenue smile.
She studies me distrustfully.
“It was the only car available,” I add.
“Leave her alone,” my mom says, pulling me into the house.
For the next hour or so, I stay out of Daria’s way, ensuring she doesn’t get to question me again.
We all have lunch together, and I act casual and eat my food, pretending it’s my first meal today.
I stay with my mother for the rest of the afternoon, trying to avoid Daria as much as I can so I don’t have to face her scrutiny again.
Hours later, my mom goes to her room for a nap, and silence takes over the house.
Quietly, I sneak into my bedroom.
I barely change my clothes when the door pops open.
“Where were you last night?” Daria shoots at me, a frown creasing her brow.
Pacing myself, I slide onto the bed, sink into a pillow, and open my laptop.
My pulse throbs in my ears as she folds her arms over her chest, slicing me with a glare.
We lock eyes briefly before I shift my focus back to my computer.
There’s no way she knows where I was unless whoever she’d spent time with at Red’s saw me in James’ house last night, made the connection, and cared to tell her, which I doubt.
Men are not like that.
“I told you already,” I say calmly.
“You lied to me.”
I glance up.
“Why do you keep asking me the same question if you don’t like my answer?”
She sears me with her glare and then scoffs at me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll find out one way or another. And I’ll tell Mom when I know for sure.”
“What makes you think she’s holding me to a different standard?”
A condescending look slides over her face.
“Oh, but it’s different with you. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want you to have your heart broken,” she says, not even hiding her contempt.
“So... Is that what this is? You feeling responsible for me?” I laugh coldly. “Please… Just go away.”
Waving her off, I move my eyes back to my computer screen while she steps closer.
With one flick of my hand, I pull my laptop closed and bring my eyes to her.
“You know, Daria... I’m getting a little tired of you acting like you're my guardian or something. You’re not Mom. She doesn't even do this kind of crap. Just go. Leave me alone,” I say, motioning her to the door. “I can’t wait to see you go away for good.”
A smirk lines her lips, her hands clasping her hips.
“Really? You think being home with Mom and Dad for an entire year is better for you?”
“It won’t be a year. And I’ll be in Italy, doing my research.”
“Oh, that’s what it’s called? Research? Give me a fucking break, will you?” she sneers, pinning a scornful gaze on me.“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard from a bum like you.”
“I’m not a bum.”
Her eyes blaze with anger.
“Oh, no? Then what is it? People your age go to college, get a job or start a business while you plan to live off your parents, wasting your time in Europe with some lame-ass project. No one in their right mind takes a sabbatical to write a damn book. Not now, anyway. Have you checked the Internet lately? Everybody and their sister writes a book. There are tons of books. And they are way more interesting than yours. At least people try to make a living with it, but not you. No, no... And you know why? Because you have no idea what real life is and how difficult it is to make a living. You’ve never had a job in your life. You don’t even know what a bill looks like, let alone how to pay one. You’re nothing but a spoiled little girl. Their fucking precious daughter.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes in disgust.
I can no longer push back my retort, words flying from my mouth.
“Look who’s fucking talking. As if you have it so hard,” I bark, gesturing, annoyed. “First off, you could open a designer shop out of your closet. Do you want to talk about money? Let’s talk about money. You spend everything you have on stupid shit. Shoes, purses, jewelry, and dresses. Why the hell do you need so much stuff, Daria? Isn’t the entire purpose of buying this shit to take it off anyway? You want to talk about jobs? Let’s talk about jobs. You’ve never had a job in your life either, so why do you keep reminding me that I hadn’t gotten one? And speaking about bums, all you did this summer was open your legs or mouth for whatever man had his cock hard for you.”
She clenches her teeth.
I can almost hear them grinding.
“I bought most of my clothes with my money.”
“What money, Daria? How did you get that money? Sucking someone’s dick?”
Her lips pull into a smug smile.
“I think you’re jealous,” she says.
“Why would I be? What’s so fucking hard about opening your legs? Anyone with a slit can do it.”
A wicked smile stretches across her lips.
“Can you?”
I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pressed into a tight line as I suddenly go quiet.
Slowly, she shakes her head, amusement glinting in her eyes.
“Oh, my God…” she murmurs, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “My poor baby sister. That’s why you’re so frustrated,” she says before clicking her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… He doesn’t want to touch you...” she murmurs, gloating, entertained.
The blood drains from my face, her chuckle piercing my ears.
Eventually, she gets quiet, taking me in with fresh eyes and quirking her lips again.
“Of course…” she says. “How come it didn’t cross my mind? Your little virginal gift means nothing to him. That’s why you’re so obnoxious, huffing and puffing, having a meltdown.”
“You don’t know that,” I blurt.
Glowing satisfaction beams on her face.
“Finally, you admit it,” she says.
“Admit what exactly?”
“That you’re infatuated with him. You want him to be your first man, and I bet you’ve made it clear to him too. And all you’ve got from him was a big fat ‘NO.’ I can only imagine your frustration...”
Her chest rocks with laughter again, grating on my nerves, even more so since her words bear so much truth.
Oblivious to me, she continues.
“All this time, you’ve pushed back anyone remotely interested in you, resenting the idea that some simpleton would make a woman out of you. And now that you’re finally ready to give it away, the man you’ve chosen doesn’t give a shit about it. He couldn’t care less. See, that’s the problem with pussy. It has a shelf life, an expiration date,” she says, laughing as if it’s a good joke. “I bet yours is stale already. I’m not surprised he doesn’t want it. Who wants the turmoil that comes with it anyway?”
Her eyes stay on my face as I wrestle with exasperation, silent in my misery.
More words fall from her lips.
“All this time, you thought you were special and so much better than me, only to find out any skirt from Red’s can ride his cock, but not you. See, pumpkin, life is so much different than the crap you imagined.”
“As if you’re some expert.”
“I know more than you do, sweetheart. And I think I know why he had pulled away from you. He would’ve fucked you in a second, despite your inexperience, but putting up with the crying and emotions and the begging for attention in the aftermath made it so not worthy. It’s not that he didn’t want your body. It was your heart that he didn’t want to deal with. He has no use for it. Anyone who knows a thing or two about James Sexton can tell you the man has never dated or fallen in love. So… Welcome to James Sexton’s world, baby.”
I bite my lips so hard I taste blood in my mouth.
I wish I could argue with her, but it’s useless.
She’s never been more on point.
“Why would he put up with all the drama? Really...” she murmurs before spinning on her heel and strutting away.
My jaw locks as tears fight hard to pool in my eyes.