“Don’t do that,” he says.
“Do what?”
“Let them tell you who you are. Because that’s not who you are.”
I smile. Breathe out a small huff of contempt. “That is who I am. They knew that when they chose me to be in this little gang we’re both a part of.”
But he’s shaking his head the whole time I’m talking. “No. That’s not why. They didn’t just pluck you out of obscurity one day and say, ‘I think she’ll do.’”
“Then why me, Con? What did I ever do to deserve that year?”
“You were just born, Kiera. Just like me. Just like Sofia. Just like Bennett. Just like all of us. You were just born.”
He’s had that theory forever, it seems. But we didn’t have all the pieces back then. I still don’t have the pieces, but something tells me that now… he might have more than he’s letting on.
So I say, “Why now, Connor? Why did this happen now? And don’t tell me it’s about your upcoming campaign. That’s not it. You’ve had campaigns in the past.”
“But I didn’t win them, right? I lost those other campaigns. This is a message telling me in no uncertain terms that if I want to win, I’ll have to opt in.”
“Opt in to what?”
“The puppet show.”
“So why do it? Why run at all?”
“Because we all have a destiny and this one is mine.”
“So that’s how this works, huh? You get to tell me to be strong and resist, but if I spit your words right back at you, you just give up?” We stare at each other for several long moments. “Way to disappoint a girl, Connor Arlington. Good job.”
CHAPTER FIVE – CONNOR
I’m used to seeing that look in the eyes of women. Hell, my parents, my friends—pretty much everyone is disappointed by me eventually.
But I always thought Kiera kinda respected me. At least half as much as I respected her that year. And yes, I’m a dick for shutting her out since then, but I was just following her lead. She left early, not us. She cut ties, not us.
We would’ve made a place for her in the city. We would’ve surrounded her. The buddy system, right? And she’s not poor. Not by any means. Not even by New York City standards. This cottage is sitting on a very nice-sized estate.
“Why don’t you live in the main house?” I ask.
“It’s not mine anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when my mother died four years ago she left me the cottage and the house went to the estate.”
“Yeah, but that’s just lawyer talk for tax breaks, Kiera. You are the estate.”
“No,” she says. “I’m not. It’s some kind of endowment.”
I squint my eyes at her. “To you,” I say.
She shakes her head. “To Essex.”
“The fucking college owns your estate?”
“I don’t really know. Like I said, it’s complicated. All I know is that I got this cottage and the five acres surrounding it.”
“That makes no sense.”
She shrugs. “I’m satisfied with it. No mortgage, no never-ending upkeep costs.”
“So who lives there?”
“No one, as far as I know. I don’t go down that way much but I don’t think anyone’s been in there since my mom died.”
“Something’s not right here. Where’s the will?”
“I dunno. Boxes in the attic, probably.”
“You should have Bennett look at it. There’s no way your mom would just rip your family estate away from you and leave you with this cottage. Was it even fixed up when she died?”
“No,” she says.
“Yeah, no. I’m calling bullshit. Didn’t your estate lawyer explain this shit to you?”
“Honestly, Connor, who cares?”
“I fucking care. It’s like she cut you out or something. It’s so fucked up and your mother wasn’t fucked up like that. I mean, my family—hell, yeah, I could see them doing something like this to me, or Jack, or Stenton. But not Olivia or Baby, for Christ’s sake. Never.”
“That’s kinda sexist.”
“So? No one cuts their daughters off. Not unless they’re huge fuckups. And you are not the definition of huge fuckup.”
“Maybe she didn’t like my books?”
I just laugh. And then she laughs too. Because Antoinette Bonnaire was always Kiera’s biggest cheerleader. I didn’t know her well, but I knew that much from the moment we first met. She was one of those parents who were invested in their kid, and not for the wrong reasons like mine. “I don’t think that’s it.” Antoinette was the mom everyone wanted to fuck too. It’s rude, I get that. But it’s still true.
Hayes, and Bennett, and I had the other kind of mom. The kind who stays home with the kids and throws lavish charity parties. The kind who wears tailored designer suit sets with two-inch heels. The kind who are invested in their kids because they are an extension of themselves and not because they have maternal instincts.
Kiera’s mom wore… romantic things. Lacy things with ruffles and low-cut necklines. She smelled good too. Not the way our moms smelled good, but the way sexy women smell. Her hair was always long and unruly, like Kiera’s. And even though she was going gray when I first met her, you couldn’t tell through the multi-colored strands of blonde unless you really looked.