âWhat? Why? I told youââ I stand up, knocking the cereal box onto the tray.
âI know you did, but just hear me out,â she begs.
âFine.â I sit back on the bed and wait for her explanation.
âHe said heâs really sorry and that he needs to explain all of this to you. I understand if you donât want to hear it. If you donât want to talk to either of them, Christian or your mother, Iâll get online and change the flight now. I just wanted to give you the option first. I know you care for him . . .â Her eyes begin to water again.
âI donât,â I assure her.
âDo you want me to change the tickets?â she asks.
âYes,â I tell her. She frowns and leans over to lift my laptop from the nightstand next to the bed. âWhat else did he say?â I ask hesitantly. It doesnât matter, but Iâm curious.
âThe wedding is still on,â she informs me.
What the fuck?
âAnd he says heâs going to tell Kimberly everything and that he loves her more than his own life.â Tessaâs bottom lip begins to tremble at the mention of her betrayed friend.
âMike is fucking stupid, thenâmaybe he does belong with my mum after all.â
âI donât know what made him forgive her so quickly, but he did.â Tessa pauses and looks at me like sheâs trying to gauge my mood. âChristian asked me to have you at least say goodbye to your mother before we leave. He knows you wonât go to the wedding, but he wants you to tell her goodbye.â She rushes the words.
âHell, no. No fucking way. Iâm getting dressed and weâre getting the fuck out of this shithole.â I wave my hand around the overly expensive motel room.
âOkay,â she agrees.
That was easy. Too easy. âWhat do you mean, okay?â I ask her.
âNothing. I just meant okay. I understand if you donât want to say goodbye to your mom.â She shrugs her shoulders and tucks her messy hair behind both ears.
âYou do?â
âYes.â She smiles a weak smile. âI know Iâm hard on you sometimes, but Iâm going to support you on this. Youâre completely justified here.â
âOkay,â I say, more than a little relieved. I thought sheâd fight me and even try to force me to go to the wedding. âI canât wait to go back.â I rub my fingers over my temples.
âYeah, me, too,â Tessa weakly replies.
Where the fuck is she going to live? After what happened here she canât just go back to Vanceâs house, but she wonât come to my place either. I donât know what sheâs going to do, but I do know that I want to rip Vanceâs fucking head from his body for making her return to the States complicated.
I wish I could get her a job with me at Bolthouse, but itâs impossible. Sheâs not even a sophomore, and paying internships at publishing houses donât come along every day, even to graduates. Thereâs no way sheâll find another, especially in Seattle, not until sheâs further along in her degree, or even finished with it.
I take the laptop from her hands to finish the task of changing our flight. I shouldnât have agreed to come to the UK in the first place. Vance talked me into bringing Tessa, only to ruin the entire damn trip himself.
âI just need to get the stuff from the bathroom and we can head to the airport,â Tessa says, tucking my dirty clothes into the top pocket of the suitcase. A defeated-looking frown covers her face, and her brows are drawn together. I want to smooth away the deep worry line between them. I hate the way her shoulders are slumped, and I know without a doubt that theyâre bearing the burden of my troubles. I love Tessa and I love her compassion; I just wish she wouldnât carry my problems along with her own. I can carry my problems myself.
âAre you all right?â I ask her. She looks up and plasters the most unconvincing smile onto her face that Iâve ever seen.
âYeah, are you?â she asks back, her worry line deepening.
âNot if you arenât. Tessa. Donât worry about me.â
âIâm not,â she lies.
âTess . . .â I cross the room and stand in front of her, pulling the shirt from her hands that Iâve just watched her fold at least ten times within the last two minutes. âIâm fine, okay? Iâm still pissed off and shit, but I know youâre worried that Iâm going to snap. I wonât.â I look down at my busted hands. âWell, not again, anyway.â I correct myself with a small laugh.
âI know. Itâs just that youâve been controlling your anger so well, and I donât want anything to jeopardize your progress.â
âI know.â I run my hand over my hair and try to think clearly without getting angry.
âIâm really proud of you already, for how you handled that situation. Christian was the one who attacked you,â she says.
âCome here.â I hold my arms out, and she graciously steps into them, nuzzling her face into my chest. âEven if he hadnât come at me, the fight still would have happened. I know Iâd have made the first move if he hadnât,â I tell her. My hands move under the hem of her shirt, and she flinches at the coldness of my touch against the warm skin of her back.
âI know,â she agrees.
âSince youâre off until Wednesday, weâll stay at my fatherâs house until youââ The vibrating of her cell phone interrupts me.
Both of our eyes dart to the table. âI wonât answer it,â she announces.