Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
He knows he’s going to get his way, so he can afford to be gentle and patient.
“I know there isn’t something else out there for me. I would’ve always wondered, I guess, if things would have been different had I not decided for myself rather than automatically doing what is expected of me.”
“That’s a very wise and mature way of looking at it.” His eyes twinkle just the same. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Finally, he allows himself the ghost of a smile—tentative, hopeful. I guess I’m glad I can make him happy. One of us should be.
“If you think it means I want to go to Corium, then yes.”
He claps his hands together, the sound loud and sharp in the otherwise silent room. “You don’t know how relieved this makes me. As much as it pains me to know you were unhappy there, I can’t pretend having you at Corium won’t be a huge load off my mind.”
Of course, because it means he’ll be able to keep a closer eye on me than ever. Not only will Lucas Diavolo pay special attention to me simply out of loyalty to my father, but everyone will know I’m Q’s little sister. I’m a Rossi and, therefore, royalty. I probably won’t make a move without somebody knowing about it.
Right now, I don’t care. It’s something I’ll have to deal with later. I’m sure I’ll come to resent it, but I can’t feel anything right now. I’m still numb, almost shell-shocked. I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything again.
Considering all the good my feelings have done me so far, it might be better if I don’t. I’ve racked up plenty of sleepless nights and endless headaches after crying my eyes out. Hating myself for being so stupid and trusting and needy.
Dad is unaware, too busy practically glowing with gladness. “I’m very happy to hear this, and I know your mother will be as well. I assume you haven’t told her yet.”
Of course, because otherwise, he would know by now. Mom would never keep something like this from him, at least not for long. “You’re the first one I’ve spoken to. Well, besides Tessa.”
“I’m sure she’ll be sad to lose you.” That’s not what he really has on his mind, though. As usual, he’s thinking ten steps ahead, the way a man in his position has to. It’s a habit, even more so when it comes to his kids. He’s already making a list of tasks. He’ll want to call Lucas to make sure my room will be ready for me when I get there, that kind of thing.
And the best I can do right now is sit here and be glad one of us is happy.
“I’ll announce this at dinner,” he decides, which comes as no surprise. This is my news, but he’s going to treat it like his own. I don’t care. It’s not like I feel any emotional connection to the decision. I’m not going toward Corium. I’m going away from MIT and all the disappointment I experienced there. It’s not like I’m looking forward to this. There’s no hope in my heart, no gleam in my eye. Maybe things will get better, and my life will settle down into a comfortable, fulfilling track.
Somehow, I doubt it.
I leave him to his planning and self-congratulation in favor of wandering. Puttering. It seems like that’s all I’ve done since I got home: walking aimlessly from room to room like a ghost haunting the house. Going to the library and picking up a book before putting it back, uninterested. Examining some of the framed photos here and there.
Studying my sister’s smiling face, so dearly missed. What I wouldn’t give for a little advice from her right now. Out of everybody, she would have understood. She would’ve kept my secret; I know it in my heart. Yet another loss I still haven’t quite recovered from, and I don’t know if I ever will.
What’s the alternative to wandering? Lying in my room, staring at the ceiling, which of course, makes Mom mental. She’s already hovering now that I’m back, making up for lost time. If she so much as catches a hint of the idea that I’m depressed, she’ll plan a girls day—shopping, a trip to the salon, manicures. And while I would love her for it, it would only make me more miserable.
I can’t feel anything, and pretending I can only makes things worse. Like heaping more pain on myself when I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to withstand what I’m already suffering.
Once I get to Corium, no longer under her watchful eye, I might be able to get my head on straight. Hopefully, I can push past the wall that seems to have sprung up around me, a hundred feet high and just as thick, separating me from the rest of the world. An invisible wall, of course. I can see everybody else, and they can see me. But I can’t feel them. I’m not actually present.