THIRTY-ONE ARABELLA

THIRTY-ONE

Arabella

AFTER CHASING after Rowan Lancaster for what feels like the entirety of high school and finally catching him, I didn’t think about how hard it would be to shake him—something I never thought I wanted. But Row has turned out to be far more determined than I thought—and completely unshakable.

Everywhere I go this evening, he’s trailing behind me like a watchdog. And if he’s not following me, he keeps his gaze on me wherever he stands, sits, whatever, tracking my every move. At school, he always seemed eager to get rid of me, and now he’s become my shadow.

Any other day I’d find this endearing. I’d take it as a sign that he’s into me and can’t stand the thought of me ever leaving his sight. That’s a lovely thing to consider, but in this moment, I’d rather he go away. I want to be alone with my thoughts and worries and feelings so I can overthink my recent, spontaneous decision and send myself into an anxiety spiral.

And I can’t believe I just had that thought.

Earlier I tried to turn down dessert and you’d think I just gave Wren Lancaster the biggest insult of her life from the look on her face when I said no thank you. I immediately changed my answer to yes please because the last person I want to offend is Rowan’s mother. She’s so wonderful. Thoughtful and loving and sweet. I aspire to be like her one day, but I could never.

I think I have too much of my mother and father in me to ever be that perfect.

After dinner, we moved to the family room where the Thursday Night Football game is on but I’ve tuned it all out. I’m sitting in an overstuffed chair that looks like an antique and is probably worth thousands of dollars, balancing a plate of pumpkin pie on my lap, the whipped cream slowly melting thanks to the warmth of the room. I can’t stand the idea of taking a single bite of it and I adore pumpkin pie. Pumpkin anything really. I am that basic bitch who’s buying pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks the second they’re available, always ordering them hot despite the temperature outside. I love what I love and I refuse to feel judged about it.

My gaze goes to Rowan, who’s blatantly watching me and doesn’t bother looking away when I catch him. He’s sitting on the couch flanked by his father and his uncle Grant, their gazes glued to the TV screen save for Row’s. I smile at him because I don’t know what else to do and his brows draw together with obvious concern. I can see the question in his eyes, and I don’t want to answer it.

I don’t know how.

Dropping my head, I grimace at the slice of pie on the plate and set it on the tiny table next to the chair. Marilee appears in front of me as if conjured by magic, dipping down to grab the plate, a frown on her face when she sees not a single bite has been taken from the slice of pie.

“Are you not feeling well?” Marilee asks me, concern filling her brown eyes. She’s an amazing cook and I’ve eaten every last drop of the food she’s prepared all week with the exception of today.

I want to weep at her question, the expression on her face. Everyone in this house cares. From the grumpy, arrogant men to the delightful women they married to the swarm of cousins who bombarded me with endless questions. Even Rowan’s brother asked me if I had a problem when we were leaving the dining room earlier, his tone vaguely hostile.

He is currently mad at the world and not afraid to show it. All over a girl, according to Rowan. It figures.

“I’m just not very hungry,” I tell Marilee. I pat my stomach. “I’m still full from dinner.”

Her gaze narrows, and I wonder if she saw that I didn’t eat my dinner either. But how could she know?

“Well, if you need anything, let me know,” Marilee says, her voice full of doubt.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, grateful for her. Grateful for all of them. Grateful for the opportunity I’ve been given. The one that I’m taking despite all of the doubt currently swirling within me. Leaving Lancaster Prep early sounds like …

A terrible decision. I will miss everyone. Even Mrs. Guthrie, who probably won’t miss me at all. But especially Rowan. What is he going to say when I tell him that I’m moving to Paris in January? That I’m spending the holiday season in another country and he’ll most likely never see me again? Will he fall to his knees and beg me not to go?

I can’t imagine it. That’s not his style. Because he is a supportive person who was raised right by good parents, he will encourage me to go and chase my supposed dreams. But what if my dreams are now about him? And us?

Swallowing hard, I shake my head once, annoyed with my thoughts. I can’t pin all of my hopes and dreams on a boy. I don’t care if he makes me feel alive and kisses me like he never wants to stop. We’re teenagers. According to the internet and anyone above the age of forty, we don’t know what we want. We’re going to change so much in the next few years we’ll practically be unrecognizable to each other in the future. Once I’ve finished with my apprenticeship, who knows where it will take me. Certainly not back into Rowan’s life. What’s happening between us is a fleeting moment, just like I reminded myself it would be when my mother first told me about the position. I firmly believed six weeks wouldn’t be enough time for me to fall completely in love with Rowan but I was wrong.

All it took was a few days. That’s it. Meaning I am weak. A complete sucker for him. It’s a terrible thing. A terrible, horrible thing and I’m a terrible, horrible person for being powerless to his lethal charm. He only has to look at me and I want to crumble at his feet.

My gaze finds him again and he’s focused on his dad who’s talking to him. Giving me the freedom to ogle him as much as I want. He’s so gorgeous. The dark hair that’s a tad too long and always falls across his forehead. Those beautiful green eyes and strong jaw. The sharp nose and lush mouth that brings me so much pleasure I shiver just thinking about it.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m leaving. I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet and not find myself under the thumb of a powerful man who’ll dictate what I do with my life. Not that Rowan would ever do that on purpose. But he’s a Lancaster and they are one of the most powerful families in this country, if not the world. He will do something important with his life, and have huge influence. If I were to stay with him, would we eventually get married and I’d be the dutiful wife on his arm? The mother of future Lancasters who will go on to do important things like their father?

God, I am turning into my mother and if that doesn’t make me want to fling myself off a bridge, I don’t know what else will.

“Hey.”

I glance over my shoulder to find August standing behind my chair, that permanent scowl on his face. It’s funny but he reminds me of Rowan. Grumpy and dismissive when you first meet him, but I saw the potential in Rowan despite his growly ways and I can see it in August too. It’s a front. They use their bad attitudes as a wall to protect them from God knows what. Having actual feelings?

Ugh, men. They are so silly.

“Hi,” I say to August, keeping my voice soft. I don’t dare ask him any questions because he’ll probably respond with some snide comment and leave me as quickly as he approached.

“You’re sitting all alone.” He comes round the chair to stand directly in front of me, blocking me from Rowan’s view. I’m sure he’s doing this on purpose and I predict Row will make his way over here eventually. “What’s wrong with you?”

His hostile tone almost makes me smile. It matches Beau’s earlier, when he asked me if I had a problem. They all have decent mothers, so why are these boys freaked out by a woman who’s feeling a little sad?

“If I told you, you’d laugh,” is my answer.

That gets his attention. He tilts his head, contemplating me. His eyes are an intense, icy blue, and any other person who would be under this much scrutiny from him would probably wilt like a flower in the sun. But I have lots of practice dealing with Lancaster boys so I merely sit there, my hands curled in my lap, letting him look his fill.

“Tell me then,” August finally says. “Let’s see if I laugh or not.”

Before I can open my mouth, he settles into the matching chair on the opposite side of the tiny table, leaning on the arm of the chair that’s closest to me, giving me all of his attention. My gaze cuts to where Rowan sits and he’s watching us. He doesn’t look pleased. I probably only have a couple minutes tops before he interrupts us and drags me away like a jealous lover.

Once I start talking, it’s like I can’t stop. I spill my guts, telling August about my mother’s call and the offer that came with it. How I used to love making jewelry and went through a stage where I sketched designs but have neglected it over the last few years. I don’t admit to August that was my old obsession and my new obsession became …

Rowan.

That part is a little embarrassing so I keep it to myself.

“What jewelry brand is it?” August asks when I finish. “Cartier?”

I shake my head.

“Tiffany’s?” He grimaces.

“No. And there’s nothing wrong with Tiffany.”

“If you say so.” His voice is laced with doubt. “Who is it?”

When I offer up the name, he seems impressed. “My mother loves them.”

“So does mine.”

“Her wrists are usually dripping with their bracelets. She restrained herself today.” August leans back in the chair, crossing his legs. Looking every inch the rich heir to a fortune that he is. “You’d be stupid to turn down the apprenticeship if that’s what you really want to do with your life.”

“I accepted it,” I admit, knowing he would be real with me. He’s too blunt to lie.

“Good.” He nods once. “I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

“I already do.”

“Because of him?” The faint disgust in his voice is obvious. “Look, I think my cousin is a decent human. Sometimes he’s annoying but that’s only because he’s younger than me and I’ve always felt that way about him.”

“I think you were born annoyed with everyone,” I tease, and his lips curl into the faintest smile, disappearing in a flash.

“My mother said I was an easy baby and full of joy. Then Iris came along and ruined everything,” he admits.

“Aw, you had to share your parents’ attention with someone else.” I mock frown at him and his gaze narrows.

“Easy for you to say considering you’re an only child,” he drawls.

I frown. I’ve never told him that. He should know absolutely nothing about me. “And you know this how?”

His expression remains impassive. “Just an assumption.”

“Uh huh.”

An exasperated breath leaves him. “Fine. Your boyfriend had me investigate you.”

My mouth pops open. “What?’

“Ask him about it.” August rubs his jaw, his attention diverted. “You can ask him right now. Hello, Rowan.”

“August,” Rowan bites out.

My gaze goes to Row and I do a double take. His mouth is a straight line, his eyes blazing with anger, and a lesser person would fall apart if Rowan looked at them like he’s staring at me. But I refuse to fold. Is he actually jealous of me talking to his cousin? Unbelievable.

“Can I talk to you, Arabella?” Rowan asks me, ignoring August completely.

With a chuckle, August rises to his feet. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

The moment he’s gone, Rowan settles into the chair August just vacated. “What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing really. Making small talk.” I shrug, trying to play it off, but then I remember what August said. “Well, he did reveal a little tidbit I didn’t know about.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” His hostile tone is completely unwarranted.

“That you asked him to, and I quote, ‘investigate me.’” I even add air quotes with my fingers, which I always thought was completely obnoxious.

But the expression on Rowan’s face is worth me making the air quotes. “He told you that?”

“Is it true?”

He looks away, like he can’t face me when he admits, “Yeah.”

“Rowan.” My voice is gentle but I still let the irritation shine through. He meets my gaze again and his miserable expression almost makes me go easy on him. Almost. “That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“He didn’t find out a lot. Not like he gave me your social security number or dug up those nudes you sent Bentley Saffron Jones.”

I jump to my feet, hating the shame that washes over me thanks to his judgmental tone. “God, you’re insufferable. And I never sent nude photos to Bentley. I’ve never sent nude photos to anyone. ”

Rowan stands, towering over me, and I tilt my head back, glaring. Giving as good as I get. “You need to stay away from August.”

“Why? Are you jealous? Thinking I might lose interest in you, all because I’m having a casual conversation with him? Give me a break, Rowan. You must think I’m the shallowest person on the planet.”

I leave him where he stands, exiting the family room as quickly as I can. No one says anything to me as I walk out and I’m grateful they’re all preoccupied. My eyes are blurry as I make my way to the stairwell that leads to my room and I blink back the tears that want to escape, furious at my reaction. I can’t let this boy make me cry just because he brings up stupid Bentley Saffron Jones. I regret ever telling him about my past, especially because he’s never said a word about who he’s been with.

His lack of honesty is frustrating. He’s too secretive. Maybe because those secrets would shock me? I don’t care who he’s been with in the past or the number of girls he’s had sex with. Who am I to judge?

“Arabella!”

I scurry up the steps when I hear his voice, desperate to get away from him. I need a little peace to clear my head and he’s not giving me that.

Not at all.

“Stop, Bells! Come on!”

I increase my pace, breathing hard when I hit the top of the stairs, glancing over my shoulder to see he’s gaining on me. I head for my bedroom door, crying out in frustration when I feel his fingers closing around my arm, stopping me. I turn on him, the tears flowing freely down my face, and the second he sees them, his entire demeanor shifts. Softens.

“I’m sorry.” He lets go of my arm, framing my face with his big hands, his touch so gentle it makes the tears come faster. “I’m a jealous asshole. I hated seeing you talking to August, seeing you look like you were enjoying yourself. I’m a dick.”

“You are,” I say, my voice thick. “Just because I was talking to him doesn’t mean I want to fuck him, Rowan.”

His brows draw together. “I know, Bells. I know. I just—”

He quits speaking, leaning in to press his lips to my forehead, feather soft and making my belly flutter. “Forgive me. I should’ve never had August dig into your personal life. I was just—curious.”

“All you had to do was ask. I’m an open book, remember?” I close my eyes when he brushes away the tears on my face with his thumbs. “I’ve told you everything whenever you have asked. Even the embarrassing stuff.”

“You have,” he agrees.

“While you’ve still kept your secrets.” I open my eyes to find him frowning at me, confused as usual. “I have a question for you, and be honest.”

“I will be.”

“How many girls have you had sex with?”