Chapter Fifty Seven

Saturday;

I had just finished helping my aunt with some work and was making my way back to Elizabeth's room when he appeared—the old man who treated me like a full-time waitress with a specialty in bottled water.

"Water!" he barked, stabbing a crooked finger in my direction like I was a delinquent who had forgotten my one and only duty in life.

I sighed, already knowing there was no escaping this. If Lea were here, she would've clocked him—no hesitation. Probably would've told him to go hydrate himself with some dignity. But, unfortunately, she wasn't, so I was stuck playing delivery girl.

Muttering under my breath, I trudged to the kitchen, grabbed a fresh bottle, and twisted the cap open as I walked into his room. The old man was already eyeing me like he thought I'd run off with his inheritance.

"Here you go," I said, placing the bottle on the table beside his bed with a forced, overly sweet smile. See? I can be nice.

He grumbled something unintelligible, probably a thank-you in some ancient dialect, and snatched the bottle up.

"Ms. Wilson."

The smooth, measured voice cut through the quiet, pulling my attention away from the door. Turning my head, I met the gaze of a woman I recognized immediately—Victoria, one of Johanna's close friends. She carried herself with a kind of effortless authority, her sharp eyes scanning me with the same unreadable expression she always wore.

"Oh... hello, professor," I said, my voice coming out more awkward than I intended.

She wasn't someone I particularly liked, though that feeling was mutual. The last time we had a real conversation, she had made her opinion of me painfully clear. A waste, she had called my decision to quit my TA job, as if my life had suddenly lost value the moment I chose to walk away.

Victoria didn't immediately respond. Instead, she stepped further into the room with deliberate, measured steps, the soft click of her heels against the floor the only sound for a moment. She set her handbag down on the couch, adjusting its position with precise fingers before brushing invisible dust from the fabric of her skirt. Everything about her movements was controlled, like she was always conscious of being observed.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked, her tone polite but distant.

Before I could answer, the old man sitting beside me scoffed loudly. He leaned back in his bed, gripping the bottle of water I had just given him as if I had handed him poison. His wrinkled face twisted with a mix of irritation and amusement.

"She's making my life a living hell," he sneered, taking a slow sip of water as if to emphasize his suffering.

I let out a quiet sigh, already used to his dramatic tendencies, but before I could respond, Victoria turned her attention to him with a sharpness that caught even me off guard.

"Why don't you shut it?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the room like the crack of a whip.

The old man stiffened, his grip tightening around the bottle as his face twisted with indignation. "You have no right to speak to me this way!" His voice rose, each word laced with the authority of someone who had spent a lifetime expecting obedience.

Victoria, however, remained unfazed. She let out a slow, deliberate sigh before rolling her eyes, her expression shifting into something colder, sharper. "And you had no right to shove me into the arms of a man the moment I turned eighteen," she said, her voice even, controlled—but beneath it, I could hear the edge of something raw, something barely restrained. "But here we are."

The room fell into a thick silence, tense and suffocating.

The old man's face darkened. "It was a business decision," he barked, his voice cracking with anger. His hands clenched around the plastic bottle, crushing it with a sharp, violent crinkle.

That was all Victoria needed to hear. Without another word, she snatched up her handbag, turned on her heel, and reached for me, her fingers wrapping firmly around my arm. I barely had time to process what was happening before she was dragging me toward the door with swift, determined steps.

"I knew it was a mistake to come visit you," she spat, her voice laced with finality.

As soon as we reached the hallway, she released my arm just long enough to shove me out of the room—not roughly, but with enough force to make it clear I wasn't meant to argue. I turned back, startled, but Victoria was already facing the door, her back straight, her shoulders squared.

"Tell Mother she can shove the birthday party right up her ass," she said coolly, her tone devoid of emotion. Then, without another glance in that man's direction, she slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the corridor like a gavel coming down on a verdict long overdue.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing. What the actual hell just happened? My gaze flickered back to the closed door, the sharp echo of it slamming still ringing in my ears. That bitter tension, the venom in their words—was that rude old man... her father?

Before I could fully process it, Victoria turned toward me, her brows drawing together in a sharp, warning glare. "One word about this," she said, voice low and deliberate, "and you won't see the light of day again."

I swallowed hard, instinctively taking a step back. "Got it," I muttered, nodding quickly. Loud and clear.

Before the silence could stretch, a smoother, more familiar voice spoke up behind me. "Victoria, are you scaring my girl?"

A shiver ran down my spine, but for an entirely different reason.

Victoria glanced over my shoulder, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Maybe," she said with a nonchalant shrug. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "Tit for tat. You scared my girl."

Arms snaked around my waist from behind, warm and effortless, and I immediately recognized the way Johanna's presence settled against me. "Fair enough," she chuckled, squeezing my hip lightly, her voice laced with amusement. "What're you doing here?"

Victoria let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "Regretting my life choices," she muttered. "I thought I'd be a nice person and say goodbye to my dying father—but right at this moment?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "I wish I hadn't bothered."

I felt Johanna tense slightly against me, but her tone remained light. "Still dramatic as ever, I see," she mused, though there was an underlying note of something more thoughtful beneath her teasing.

Victoria's lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her handbag. "Call it realism," she said, her voice quieter now. "Some things aren't worth the closure."

I had to admit, standing here listening to their personal conversation felt a bit intrusive. The weight of their history hung in the air, and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be a witness to it. Just as I was about to quietly excuse myself, Victoria's voice cut through my thoughts.

"I see you finally got the girl," she mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as her eyes swept over me, taking in every detail with an unreadable expression.

Johanna let out a snort, her grip on my waist tightening briefly before she replied, "Yeah, was about to give up. But you know what they say—rehab is for quitters."

Victoria chuckled, a genuine, amused sound that softened the sharp edges of her usual demeanor. Without hesitation, she swung an arm around Johanna's shoulder, effortlessly leading her away from me as if they had done this a thousand times before.

"What is wrong with us grown-ass women?" she scoffed with amusement. "Why are we falling for—"

Her voice faded as they walked further down the hall, their words dissolving into the distance.

I stood there for a moment, blinking. Well, that just happened.

Shaking my head slightly, I turned on my heel and made my way back to Elizabeth's room, hoping for a bit of normalcy—or at least something that made more sense than whatever just went down.

As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes immediately landed on Lea. She was sprawled across the couch in the most chaotic position imaginable—half her body hanging off the edge, one leg kicked up against the armrest, and her head tilted back like she had passed out mid-battle. Her mouth was slightly open, a smudge of chocolate smeared across her lips, and to top it all off, she was snoring. Loudly.

Elizabeth glanced up from her book, barely fazed, and shot me an amused look before returning to her reading as if this was just another Saturday.

The room was quiet except for Lea's awful snoring. Then—

"What the actual fuck?"

The voice shattered the calm like glass, making me whip around just in time to see Johanna standing in the doorway, staring at Lea with a mix of pure disbelief and just a hint of disgust.

Before Lea could so much as twitch, Johanna grabbed her leg and gave her a firm shove, nearly sending her tumbling off the couch.

Lea jolted awake with a dramatic gasp, flailing as she scrambled upright, her hands immediately flying into a shaky, half-baked karate stance. Her wide, sleep-addled eyes darted around the room like she was ready to fight off intruders—or possibly the ghosts of her own bad decisions.

Johanna pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Can you please behave yourself in front of my mother?"

Her voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the simmering frustration underneath.

Lea, still half-asleep, barely reacted. Instead, she just rolled her eyes, waved a lazy hand in the air, and flopped back against the couch. "Woman," she sighed dramatically, "let me live my life."

Johanna's eye twitched, her lips parting like she was about to say something sharp—probably something that would make Lea regret her entire existence. But before she could get a word out, Elizabeth cleared her throat.

That single sound was enough to shut Johanna right up.

Lea, ever the opportunist, shot a triumphant smirk in Johanna's direction, looking far too pleased with herself. But the moment she caught the icy glare Johanna sent her way, her smirk dropped faster than her dignity.

I moved to sit beside Lea, patting the open spot next to me as an invitation for Johanna. She barely spared it a glance before shaking her head and striding past us, her focus now on her mother.

"Goodbye, Mother," Johanna said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Elizabeth's forehead. There was something uncharacteristically gentle in the gesture, a fleeting moment of warmth before she straightened up and grabbed her handbag from beside the couch. "I have a lot of work to do."

Turning to me, her expression softened. "Goodbye, sweetheart," she murmured, bending down slightly. Before I could react, she placed a quick, lingering kiss on my lips, her presence leaving a warmth behind.

"I'll see you later," she added, a small, teasing glint in her eye as she tapped the tip of my nose with her index finger. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her usual air of confidence trailing behind her.

The second the door shut, Lea clasped her hands together dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes like a love-struck fool. "Young looooove," she sighed, swaying slightly for extra effect.

"Shut up," I snorted, rolling my eyes before shoving her to the other side of the couch. She let out an exaggerated oof, sprawling dramatically as if I had just mortally wounded her.

Elizabeth simply turned a page in her book, unfazed.

✿

It was just before nine in the evening when Lea and I made our way toward the parking lot, the night air crisp against my skin. The day had been long, and I was looking forward to getting home, but just as I reached for my car keys, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

I didn't even have to guess—I knew immediately who it was. A small smile tugged at my lips as I unlocked my phone.

Johanna.

Before I could properly read the message, Lea, ever the nosy one, leaned over my shoulder, her curiosity practically radiating off her. "Who are you talking to?" she asked, trying to peek at my screen.

"Johanna," I said, typing out a response before I even finished speaking. I handed my phone to Lea, knowing full well she wouldn't let up until she saw for herself.

She skimmed through the texts, and as expected, a slow smirk spread across her lips. Then, without warning, she grabbed my shoulders and shook me like an overexcited child.

"Your first real date!" she squealed.

I let out a breathy laugh, trying to steady myself as she practically bounced in place. "Dude, I'm so going to help you dress up for this."

I chuckled nervously, rubbing my fingers together in a futile attempt to calm my nerves. "I'd actually appreciate that," I admitted. "I have no idea what to do or what to expect."

Lea gasped, throwing an arm over my shoulders as if this was suddenly her moment to shine. "Relax, my dear friend!" she declared dramatically. "I'm going to pamper you, make you look absolutely irresistible, and trust me—" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively "—Johanna won't be able to keep her hands to herself."

I groaned, shoving her lightly. "Lea."

"What?" she grinned. "I'm just stating facts." The nerves hit me like a brick wall, heavier than before.

What if Johanna realized—really realized—on our date that I was too inexperienced for her? Too young?

I know she said she doesn't care about that kind of thing, but regret has a way of sneaking up on people when they least expect it. And let's be real—she's basically twice my age, has lived a whole life before I even knew what love was, and could have any woman she wanted.

So why me?

"You're thinking about how she might regret this, aren't you?" Lea's voice cut through my thoughts just as we climbed into the car.

I glanced at her briefly, caught off guard. "How'd you know?" I asked, reaching for the radio and turning the volume up slightly, as if music could drown out my thoughts.

Lea just smiled knowingly. "Because the same stuff went through my head when I was about to go on my first date with Regina."

I exhaled softly, gripping the steering wheel as I started the engine. The parking lot lights blurred slightly as I backed out of the spot, my mind still spinning.

"Relax," Lea murmured, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder gently. "She's not going to regret it."

I forced a small smile, nodding.

Let's hope she doesn't.