Chapter 29: Chapter 29

I answer him with a smile and a nod and go inside to the scene of the crime.

I was going to try to take a small nap before my dinner with Trevor, but I end up taking another shower instead. I feel dirty from the events of last night, and I need to rewash Hardin’s scent from my body. This time two weeks ago, I had thought everything would be so different right now, with Hardin and me getting ready to visit his mother in London for Christmas. Now I don’t even have anywhere to live, which prompts the thought that I need to call my mother back. She called me multiple times last night.

After I get out of my shower, I start reapplying my makeup and hit her number.

“Hello, Theresa,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back last night. I’m in Seattle for that publishing conference, and we were talking to clients later over dinner.”

“Oh, that’s right. Is he there?” she asks, and I’m a little stunned she would even ask me that.

“No . . . Why do you ask?” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

“Because he called here last night trying to find out where you were. I don’t appreciate you giving him this number—you know how I feel about him, Theresa.”

“I didn’t give him the number—”

“I thought the two of you ended things?” she interrupts.

“We did. I did. He probably just needed to know something about the apartment, or something,” I lie. He must have been really desperate to get hold of me if he called my mother’s house. That thought hurts and pleases me at the same time.

“Speaking of which, we can’t get you into a dorm until Christmas break is over, but since you’ll be off of work and school for the week, you can just come here.”

“Oh . . . okay,” I agree. I don’t want to spend my break at my mother’s, but what choice do I have?

“I will see you Monday. And, Tessa, if you know what’s good for you, you will stay far away from that boy,” she says and hangs up.

Spending a week at my mother’s house will be hell; I don’t know how I lived there for eighteen years. Honestly, I never realized how bad she was until I got a taste of freedom. Maybe since Hardin is leaving the country Tuesday, I can stay in that motel for two more nights and go to the apartment while he’s gone. As much as I don’t want to ever go there again, it is still my name on the lease, and it’s not like he would ever know.

Scrolling through my phone, I see that I have no new messages or calls from him, though I knew that I wouldn’t. I can’t believe he would sleep with Molly and throw it in my face like that. The worst part is that if I hadn’t blurted out that I kissed someone else, he would have never told me. Just like with the bet that started our “relationship.” And that means I just can’t trust him.

I finish getting myself ready, deciding upon a plain black dress. My days of woolen, pleated skirts seem so long ago. I apply another layer of concealer to my neck and wait for Trevor to come. True to his nature, he knocks on the door at exactly six thirty.

Chapter twenty

HARDIN

I stare at my father’s massive house, unable to decide whether or not to go inside.

Karen has decorated the outside with too many lights, mini Christmas trees, and what appear to be dancing reindeer. The blow-up Santa in the yard twists with the wind in a way that seems to mock me as I climb out of my car. Pieces of ripped-up airline tickets blow around the seat before I close the door.

I will have to call and make sure I can get a credit for the unused tickets, otherwise I just blew two grand. I probably should just go alone and escape this dreadful state for a while, but for some reason, going home to London doesn’t sound as appealing with Tessa not coming along. I’m grateful that my mum was okay with coming here instead. She actually seems excited to come to America.

As I ring my father’s doorbell, I try to come up with an excuse as to why the hell I am here. But before I can conjure something, Landon appears.

“Hey,” I say as he opens the door wider for me to come inside.

“Hey?” he questions.

I dig my hands into my pockets, unsure what to say or do.

“Tessa isn’t here,” he says and walks toward the living room, indifferent to my presence.

“Yeah . . . I know. She’s in Seattle,” I say, following a few feet behind him.

“So . . .”

“I . . . um . . . well, I came to talk to you . . . or my dad, I mean Ken. Or your mum,” I ramble on.

“Talk? About what?” He takes the bookmark from the book he’s holding and begins to read. I want to snatch the book from his hands and toss it into the fire, but that won’t get me anywhere.

“Tessa,” I say quietly. My fingers fiddle with my lip ring as I wait for him to burst into laughter.

He looks at me and closes his book. “Let me get this straight . . . Tessa doesn’t want anything to do with you, so you’re here to talk to me? Or your father, or even my mother?”

“Yeah . . . I guess . . .” God, he’s irritating. This is embarrassing enough.

“Okay . . . and what exactly do you think I can do for you? I, personally, don’t think Tessa should ever speak to you again, and I honestly figured you would have moved on by now.”

“Stop being a dick. I know I fucked up—but I love her, Landon. And I know she loves me. She’s just hurt right now.”

Landon takes a deep breath and rubs his chin with his fingers.

“I don’t know, Hardin. What you did is pretty unforgivable. You humiliated her and she trusted you.”