Chapter Thirty-One
The Major Confrontation
Ingrid
Jason and Jill Winthrop sit across from me at the dining room table, neither of them speaking.
But then Isla found out.
Isla, who had been to numerous dances.
Isla, who had done these kinds of days with Jill many times.
Isla, who is a selfish, self-serving psychopath.
Somehow, she convinced Jill that I didn’t need a new dress, that I could borrow one of her dresses. That she was the one who really needed a new dress.
And shoes.
And the haircut.
So, I dressed in a black and white polka dot dress that was a little too big, red flats that were a size too small, and Isla went on a date in her brand-new dress.
Anyway, she’s pregnant with her professor’s baby.
And I’m moving to New York.
“What did you want to talk about?” Mom asks, her voice quiet and shaky.
I scoff. “You’re joking, I hope.”
“Don’t use that tone with your mother,” Dad warns.
My eyes narrow as I glare at my father. “Were you aware that I, your youngest child, have no home?”
Dad shifts uncomfortably. “That’s not true.”
“Oh right.” I laugh as I slap myself in the forehead. “I have no bedroom. Where am I supposed to sleep?”
Jason and Jill share a look.
“We’ve been thinking about that,” Mom begins. “We want you to take our bedroom.”
My mouth drops wide open.
They can’t be serious.
After all these years, they’re still scared shitless by Isla and her theatrics.
Figures.
“Where are you two going to sleep?” I ask them.
They look at each other again.
Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.
“We were thinking about upgrading the couch,” Dad answers. “To something that can be turned into a bed at night.”
I laugh.
A full belly laugh.
These two idiots are going to sleep in the living room while I crash in their king-sized bed? Seriously?
“And what happens when Isla wants the master bedroom and takes that one, too?” I guffaw. “Are you going to let her take over the whole house while you sleep on the couch?”
Mom frowns. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Mom and Dad,” I begin as I fold my hands on top of each other. “You two are great people. You’re hard-working and kind. The best parents in the world. But you’re total pushovers and I’m sick of it.”
Dad runs a hand over his face. “We’re not pushovers.”
“Yeah,” Mom agrees. “We might be rollovers, but never pushovers.”
I chuckle. “Mom, you’re not giving up your bedroom for me. You’re going to tell Isla that she has to put my room back the way it was and she needs to share a room with her child.”
“We did talk to her,” Mom argues. “But she’s just so—”
“Harsh,” Dad says.
“Mean,” Mom adds.
“What happened to the parents who told me I was responsible for taking care of my child if I got pregnant?” I remind them. “You guys said you already raised your kids and you weren’t raising any more.”
“We did say that,” Dad remembers. It was the first time I snuck Wilder into the house.
“You’re not Isla,” Mom says softly. “You’re responsible.”
“And reasonable,” Dad sighs.
“So… I get punished for being the child you can reason with?” I ask gently.
Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “A ladybug cannot change its spots, Ingrid.”
Oh, Mom.
Still butchering adages.
“Leopard,” I say.
“Leopards have stripes,” she sniffles.
Dad hides a laugh.
“Do you remember when we used to stay at Moomoo’s house before she died?” I ask.
Moomoo. The name we affectionately called our grandmother, Jason’s mom.
Mom exhales heavily. “I do.”
“There was never any room for us at holidays because Aunt Jane and her family took up the two spare rooms,” I remind her. “You would get so upset because we’d have to camp on the living room floor in sleeping bags.”
She nods slowly. “You’re saying that I need to change my spots,” she says.
“I’m saying,” I sigh as I reach across the table and place a hand on hers, “don’t let anyone take what’s yours. Not your room. Not the spare room. Nothing. Stand up for yourself. And you,” I turn to face Dad, “you have to have her back. Work as a team. Two heads are better than one.”
“Hearts,” Mom interjects. “Two hearts are better than one.”
That’s not the saying, but Jill gets it. I know she does.
“I have some news,” I say.
Their faces pale.
“I’m not pregnant,” I quickly reassure them. “I promise.”
“Thank goodness.” Mom places a hand on her chest. “I was so worried.”
“But I am moving,” I say to them.
Their eyes widen at the exact same time.
“You’re moving?” Dad furrows his brow.
“I am moving,” I proudly proclaim. “But not until the fall.”
“You can’t,” Mom gasps. “I… you… Jason make her stay here!”
I blink, thoroughly confused. They couldn’t wait for Isla to leave and start her “adult” life far away from them. They don’t even know where I’m moving to yet.
“You’re going to California, aren’t you!” Mom wails.
“I’m going to New York,” I say.
“You’re not!” they both yell at the same time.
“Aren’t you the ones who told Isla to spread her wings and fly?” I question.
Or do I remember that conversation from all those years ago wrong?
Tears slip down Jill’s cheeks. “But we don’t like her!”
Dad exhales heavily. “What she means is that we like having you around, Ingrid. You get us.”
“But you let Isla steal my room,” I argue weakly. “If you liked having me around, you wouldn’t have caved so quickly.”
Mom stands, her hands clenching into fists. “I will get you your room back.”
“Mom,” I sigh. “I’m still going to New York in the fall with Wilder and Cash.”
Dad whips his head back. “What do you mean and Cash?”
“Oh no.” Jill gives Jason an alarming look.
“What am I missing?” I ask, unfazed.
“We knew you and Wilder were together,” Jason begins.
“But we didn’t know all three of you were—”
“No, no, no,” I quickly interject. “I’m only dating Wilder. Cash is just… well… I guess he’s just Wilder’s friend. Maybe mine, too. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. Can you be friends with your ex-boyfriend?”
My parents look like deer caught in headlights.
I take a deep breath. “Anyway, I would like my room back until August. Then, Isla can use it for whatever she wants.” I pause before adding, “If that works for the two of you.”
“You’re really leaving?” Mom whispers.
“I’ll be a train ride away,” I tell her.
“What about school?” Dad asks pointedly.
“I will be doing online courses,” I tell him. “And hopefully finding a job.”
Jill rounds the table and reaches for me, pulling me out of my chair and into her arms.
My mother is many things. Dog walker. Adage butcherer. Pushover.
But she loves me and I’ve never ever doubted that for a second.
Not once.
“I’m not ready for you to go,” she murmurs as she squeezes me tight.
I wrap my arms around her. “We will video chat every single day,” I promise.
She pulls back to look at me. “You’ll come home for all holidays?”
“Most,” I propose.
Mom nods, satisfied. “We’ll visit you.” She turns to look at Dad. “Right?”
“We will visit,” he agrees.
“You really want to leave us here all alone with Isla?” Mom laughs.
“I have faith you two will figure it out,” I say.
“We’ll get you your room back,” Dad returns. “And it will be here for you if you ever need to come home. Okay?”
Now, it’s my eyes that are filling with tears.
“Okay.”
“I can’t believe it,” Mom hums. “Our little gal is all grown up.”
“And definitely not in a relationship with two boys at once?” Dad double checks.
“Just Wilder,” I assure him.
“Well,” Mom exhales. “We’ll just have to make the most of the next two months, won’t we?”
I smile at them. “I can’t wait.”
“Just jump out of the damn tree!” Wilder yells at Cash as I lay in the warm sun, soaking up the summer air as the boys swim in the creek.
“Why are you always in such a hurry?” Cash hollers back. “I just—”
But Cash loses his footing and slips right off the tree branch. He hits the water, a belly flop that echoes through the trees.
I sit straight up as Wilder slaps a hand to his forehead.
“I’m okay,” Cash sputters as soon as his head shoots out of the water. “Almost pooped myself, but I’m fine.”
“We were really worried about you,” Wilder deadpans.
Cash glances my way. “Super worried,” I say.
He rolls his blue eyes. “You two suck at lying.”
“Isn’t your dad a plastic surgeon?” Wilder teases.
Cash sits on the edge of the creek, running his hand through his hair. “He is.”
“He can always fix your nose,” I say as I stand and gently brush small pebbles of sand from my legs.
“Like we’ve never heard that one before,” Cash grimaces.
Wilder meets me at the water’s edge, his smile warm and wide. Something inside me melts a little as my fingers run along my lightning bolt tattoo.
“I have something I want to talk to you guys about,” Cash begins.
“You’re not bailing on us, are you?” Wilder groans.
Cash shakes his head. “No.”
“What’s up?” I ask him.
“My dad is giving me my college fund to move to New York with,” he tells us.
Wilder’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dude, that’s amazing. You’ll be able to get an apartment and check out schools. I’m so happy for you.”
“That’s great,” I add. “You deserve a fresh start after everything.”
“I’m not getting my own apartment, you idiots,” Cash says with a groan. “We’re getting an apartment.”
“No,” Wilder firmly argues. “You’re not paying our way, too. That money is for you.”
“I’m also paying for NYU,” Cash announces.
Wilder’s face turns red. “No, you’re not.”
“I am,” Cash returns.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not letting you, Cash.”
“You don’t have a choice, Wild.”
“I won’t take it.”
“I’ll make you.”
“You wish.”
“Alright,” I say, holding up a hand. “Stop arguing. It’s giving me whiplash.”
“You’ve let me share a room with you rent free for months,” Cash reminds Wilder. “I want to help you the way you’ve helped me.”
“I don’t need help,” Wilder makes clear.
“I know,” Cash says, holding up both hands defensively. “But it’s a lot of money. I won’t use it all. I’d like to invest in you.”
“Don’t turn this into a business pitch,” Wilder grumbles.
“You can pay me back when you win your first Academy Award.”
“I don’t even know if film is what I really want to do,” Wilder admits. “It’s just a starting point.”
“Then, let’s go to New York, find an apartment together, get you through your first semester and see if it’s what you want to do,” Cash responds.
Wilder narrows his eyes. “Don’t make it sound so easy.”
“Oh, but it is.” Cash smirks.
“I’ll think about it,” Wilder says.
Cash nods. “Thank you.”
“Are we still aiming to move in August?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Wilder answers.
Cash clears his throat. “Uh… I have something I’m doing tonight,” he says.
Wilder raises an eyebrow. “A hot date?”
“No,” Cash quickly shuts him down. “Something else. Anyway, I’ll be out for a while so if you two need to…” he trails off.
“Do it?” Wilder waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes.
“Yeah,” Cash continues. “I’ll be gone for a while.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Wilder says, slapping his back.
It’s been a weird few days sharing a room with Wilder and Cash, but I guess it’s a good test run before we all live together in New York.
“We should head home,” Wilder says as he reaches for my hand.
Our fingers twine and I take a sobering breath.
“My room should be ready tomorrow,” I tell him. “Jason and Jill had a long talk with Isla. If she wants to live with them, she has to give me my room back.”
Wilder pulls me close and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m going to miss having you in my bed every night.”
“Ew,” Cash says. Loudly.
“I’m going to miss it, too,” I return as my free hand runs the length of his arm.
“You two can shack up in a few months in New York,” Cash interrupts. “I’m literally giving you the room to yourselves this evening. Don’t make it weird.”
“We will always make it weird,” Wilder says before kissing me again.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
But tonight?
I know exactly where I’ll be.
In Wilder’s arms.