Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I want you to do what you want, sweetie,” she says quietly. “You need a little more rebellion in your life. Maybe not as much as me, but a little more. Don’t marry anyone if that’s what you need. Forget about your grandfather. Forget about the family. Forget about me. Do what you want.”
I chew on my lip and don’t respond. That’s easy for her to say—she’s been doing whatever she wants for my whole life and look where it’s gotten her. Nowhere and nothing, stuck in a rehab clinic, halfway to jail. If I listen to her now, she’ll probably be dead in a year, and I could never live with myself if that happened.
“I want to marry Ford,” I say like I’m trying to convince myself.
“Then I guess that’s what you should do.” She smiles slightly. “What’s he like? Is he handsome?”
“Mom.”
“Come on, tell me about my future son-in-law.”
I tell her what I can about Ford: yes, he’s handsome, and he’s also rich and smart and outgoing and arrogant. “There’s not much else to say,” I admit. “We’ve spoken maybe a handful of times.”
“That’s a good starting place at least. I’ve seen a lot of different relationships in my day and ruined a whole lot of them too, but I’ve figured out that love can bloom almost anywhere if you really want it to.”
“I don’t know about love. I’d be happy with friendship.”
“Sure, sweetie, sure, but I think you should aim a little higher. It’s your life, after all. You shouldn’t live it for your grandfather and you certainly shouldn’t live it against him.”
I give her a tight hug and we end up talking about her rehab after that. She goes on about the doctors and the other patients, and then the hour’s up and it’s time for me to leave. She walks with me back to where the car’s waiting and squeezes both my arms.
“I know I’m an awful Mom, sweetie, but don’t give up on me, okay?” I don’t let myself cry. It’s the same thing every time, and I reply the same way, and nothing ever changes.
“I won’t, I promise.”
“That’s my girl.” She kisses my hair and sighs. “You always were the good one, you know that? I don’t know why your grandfather can’t see it.”
“Maybe one day.”
She smiles sadly because we both know that’ll never happen. I watch her head back to the clinic, limping slightly like her hip’s bothering her. I’m stunned by how old she looks and how much time has passed and how fast it’s all moving, and I’m desperate to pause our lives right here, right now, right where she’s sober and thinking clearly and looking if not happy then at least alive, and maybe we can exist here forever together and that would be enough. But life is change and there is no pause button, and my phone starts to ring.
I pull it out as I turn to the car and frown at Sara Lynn’s name on the screen. “Hello?” I say and figure she called the wrong person.
“Kat,” she says and her voice is sharp and on the edge of yelling. “You would not believe who I just spoke to. Can you guess? No, don’t bother, I spoke to Laney Williams, and she spoke to Brice Rowe who is now Brice Scavo, and her husband is best friends with Ford Arc, and do you know what I heard?”
I stand there in stunned silence. How the heck did word travel this fast? I didn’t tell anyone, not even Tina and Melody, much less anyone in or anywhere near my family. And still somehow Sara Lynn knows. This is what happens when your entire life is spent digging up details and gossiping apparently—Sara Lynn is like a sponge for information, especially information about her own family that she’s not supposed to have. It’s like she’s haunting me, stalking me, and keeping tabs on my every movement, and it creeps me the hell out.
“What did you hear?” I hate that my voice sounds meek and scared.
“I heard you’re involved with Ford Arc. The Ford Arc. You know, son of the Arc family, the family our grandfather despises most of all in the world. I heard you’re somehow connected to him. Like you two are seeing each other? But that can’t be real, right, I mean, why would Ford ever want to be anywhere near a girl like you? God, Kit-Kat, tell me that isn’t true, tell me you’re not somehow dating Ford Arc because that’s a nightmare, truly a nightmare. Please tell me it isn’t real before I vomit right here in my mouth.”
I set my jaw and dig my fingers into the roof of the car. That nickname rings through my head: Kit-Kat. She’s the only one that still uses it, and only when she wants to hurt me. I know she does it on purpose. Sara Lynn comes off like she’s an emptyheaded socialite but that’s all an act—she’s much cleverer and quick-witted than most people realize. When she wants to be exceedingly cruel, she can come up with new and unusual forms of punishment.