“I’m sorry,” I said again as the elevator descended.
Chapter 12—Time
It was the right thing to do.
There was no world where Ethan and I would ever work together. I had responsibilities to my family and to my social circles. I couldn’t run off and play with some boy just because he was attractive and gave me a ride. On his bicycle.
“That’s exactly why it would never work.”
I had to represent the family at my stepmother’s luncheon tomorrow, and I hadn’t even chosen an outfit. I had to finish my last few weeks of school. I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted by something as ridiculous as a kid covered in tattoos and sporting a man-bun. Ending it before things went too far was the only polite way to handle it. It was absolutely, unequivocally the right thing to do.
Then why was I crying?
I heard my phone ring. I had a pretty good idea who it might be, so I refused to look at the screen as I let myself into my apartment and headed for the bedroom. The phone dinged with a voice message, and I quickly grabbed it from my purse to silence it.
In the bathroom, I leaned against the counter for a moment before I washed the tears from my eyes and the makeup off my face. I had no idea why I was so upset. Two days ago, I didn’t even know of Ethan’s existence. I could hardly be missing him now.
I was being ridiculous.
My phone buzzed. I swallowed hard and went back to my bedroom to change out of my clothes, ignoring the continued phone noises. Before I dropped into bed, I turned the phone off completely.
I woke late the next morning. With my phone turned off, there was no alarm to wake me on time, and I had to rush to get ready for my stepmother’s Sunday luncheon. The outfit I chose was one I had worn to a luncheon earlier in the spring, and I hoped no one would notice the repeat in attire.
Fat chance.
“Hello, my darling.” Vanessa greeted me in her usual way as I walked into the house. “Didn’t you wear that dress back in March?”
“Hi, Vanessa.” I sighed. “Yes, I was running a little late today. I’ve been busy with school and haven’t had time for shopping.”
“You could have at least put your hair up,” she said. She clicked her tongue. “You look like you spent the night with a boy, and we don’t want those sorts of rumors, do we?”
“I’m not a child, Vanessa. I think it’s okay for me to date at this point.”
“Lemonade on the porch,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s how it was done when I was a girl.”
I wasn’t about to argue with her about how outdated her values on the subject of dating were in this century. I’d had all those conversations in high school, which is why I didn’t even start dating until I was in college.
“Sorry about the outfit,” I said, dodging the dating comment. “I really was just a bit rushed this morning.”
“There’s always time to look your best, my darling,” Vanessa said. She twirled a strand of pearls between two fingers as she looked me up and down. “Let’s make sure we plan a little better for the next one, yes?”
“Of course,” I said. “Sorry, Vanessa.”
“Go upstairs and fix your hair, at the very least,” she said. “And do be sure to watch your language. Remind your friends as well.”
As stepmothers go, Vanessa could have been a lot worse. She treated my father well and had yet to cheat on him like the last one did. Vanessa was my father’s third wife, and they were married when I was in the eighth grade. It was good to have another woman around when I was in my young teens. My own mother spent all her time in Europe and simply couldn’t be bothered. If she happened to remember, I would get a call on my birthday.
Vanessa did have quite the beef against swearing in public. She simply wouldn’t stand for it, not ever from my father. When I was in high school, the first fight I ever heard them have was about my father’s use of language on the telephone. He’d cursed at the cable company’s tech support, and Vanessa had a complete fit about his manners. Presley found herself banned from Sunday luncheons for a full month due to her potty mouth.
After pinning my hair up, I helped Vanessa direct the caterers to the tables in the back yard and then tied a few balloons to the chairs. This Sunday’s theme was a Hawaiian luau, complete with leis for the guests, a ukulele player, and a pig roast.
“I’ve been trying to call you all weekend!” Presley appeared from the side of the house and poked me in the arm.
“Sorry,” I said. “My phone’s been off.”
“Whatever for?”
“I needed some peace and quiet,” I said with a shrug. “I do have finals, you know.”