Colin glides to a stop in front of the seawall. The moon is high and so bright it makes a long white Adidas stripe on the black water.
He lifts one eyebrow and pulls me across the seat toward him. This is all very tempting—I’m a fool for that pinecone smell of his—but I put both hands on his chest and stop him.
“No,” I say. “Next week.”
He lifts his face off my neck. “Next week?” He looks at me as if I must be joking. “Why?”
I tell him my plan. The move. Hiring Manuela again. Learning to cook. The whole thing. Even the part about Dad and his liberal attitude toward young lovers.
Colin leans against the car door, fiddling with my hair, listening, usually smiling—then he says what I was afraid he was going to say.
“What about your mom? Aren’t you worried this will be hard on her?”
I explain all my reasons—the money stuff, how tired she is, how disruptive the move to a new neighborhood would be for Elliot. I’m being as reasonable as I can, but I’m still scared to look at Colin. I can tell by the tilt of his head he’s trying to coax me into being nicer than I actually am.
“But it’s hard on Dad too,” I say. “And remember. He didn’t start this. She did.”
Colin’s quiet for a long time. He plays with my fingers and looks out at the ocean. “It’s sad,” he says. “They’re both such good people. Your mom’s so kind and responsible and everything…”
I don’t say, Or at least she used to be.
“And your father…you’d think someone with all that money would be a jerk or a snob or whatever, but Steve isn’t. He’s nice. He really wants to help people.”
Colin taps his hand on the steering wheel and takes a breath. This must be hard for him to say. “My parents are really grateful for everything he did for us. He changed our lives. If he hadn’t invested their savings for them, they’d never have been able to buy their business. They’d never be able to pay for me to go to university next year.” He looks me right in the eye. “Your dad’s an incredible guy.”
Suddenly, this big sob just kind of erupts out of me. It’s as if Colin accidentally managed to pinpoint the exact center of my pain. We’re both horrified.
Colin groans. “Oh, sorry. Ria. Sorry.” He pulls me into his lap and practically cuddles me like a baby. I’m clenching my teeth together and crunching my abs, trying to kill the sobs.
Colin dabs at my face with his shirtsleeve. I can feel his panic.
I push down my chin and swallow. I take a breath. I promised Dad I wouldn’t cry anymore. I look at Colin. His face is pleading with me.
“I really love you,” I say.
He nods. “Me too.” He’s almost crying himself.
It’s awkward, but I untwist myself
from his lap and stretch out on the long front seat. “Come here,” I
say.
It’s after three in the morning when I get home. I’m just praying Mom fell asleep waiting for me. I sneak in the back door and tiptoe across the kitchen.
“Ria?” Mom’s just a silhouette in the dark hall.
Damn. She’s going to kill me. I check my shirt, make sure the buttons are all done up right. I don’t want a scene.
“Sorry, Mom, I…”
She turns on the light. Her skin’s so pale, it’s almost mauve. She’s rubbing her hands as if her knuckles hurt.
“Honey,” she says. “You better sit down. I’ve got some bad news.”