Page 89 of The Love of My Next Life
Mom and Trent are dancing to their wedding song, but I seek out Lennon. She’s watching her father and my mother with a soft smile on her face. She’s happy. I want to be happy, too.
Then Masters puts his arm around her again, and she turns her smile on him.
All thoughts of happiness disappear.
I stay in the corner for a few more dances. I watch Eric twirl Lennon around the dance floor like a fucking tool bag and I want so fucking badly to cut in. I almost do. Twice. But then I remember that I’m drunk, and this is my mom’s wedding, and Lennon is now officially my stepsister.
I keep repeating it.
Stepsister. Stepsister. Stepsister.
Instead of calming me down, it pisses me off more. Eric pulls Lennon close on a slow song and she rests her head on his stupid chest. I turn back to the courtyard and down the rest of my champagne.
I need this fucking day to be over.
When it’s time to send Mom and Trent off on their honeymoon, they change out of their wedding clothes, and we line up with flower petals to throw at them as they climb into the limo that will take them to the airport. Instead of hugging Mom one last time or shaking Trent’s hand before they jet across the world, I keep just out of reach. I wave and blow a kiss and ignore the worry lines on my mom’s forehead.
Suspicion is better than her knowing for sure that I’m wasted at four in the afternoon at her wedding.
When the limo disappears around the corner, people start to disperse, and I zero in on Lennon. Claire, Josh, and Eric are talking about some party Claire wants to have at our house, but I grab Lennon’s hand and give it a tug. When she looks at me, I nod to the courtyard, then turn and walk that way.
I know the instant she follows. I turn to face her once we’re outside.
“You look stunning,” I tell her honestly, and she blushes.
“Thank you.” She gestures to my tux. “You look pretty great, too.”
“I don’t like not seeing you in free period. Or at the rec center.”
She walks past me and tips her head back. I turn and watch her.
“You know why I had to,” she whispers into the air, and I follow her.
“It’s bullshit, Lennon,” I say. “You shouldn’t have been the one to quit. You can’t lose painting.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not losing it. I’m just...” She shrugs, then turns back to me. “I had to.”
“Come back.” I reach up and trace my knuckles over her jaw. Her eyes flutter shut. “When we get back from winter break, I’ll drop the free period so you can paint. And I’ll have James take me off Tuesdays and Thursdays. I won’t even be in the building.” She opens those breathtaking eyes and locks them with mine. “Just come back.”
We’re quiet for moment. I give her space. Let her think it out. I wait for her to speak, but before she does, the door to the courtyard opens. I turn to see who it is and laugh when Eric fucking Masters appears.
“Everything okay out here?” he asks slowly, bouncing his eyes from me to Lennon.
“We’re dandy, Masters,” I say with an annoyed smile. “Family stuff. You can leave.”
He cocks his head to the side. He doesn’t trust me. He shouldn’t, honestly. It still pisses me off when he looks to Lennon for assurance.
“We’re gonna head back with Claire and Josh,” he says to her. “We should leave now.”
His insistence grates on my already frayed fucking nerves.
“She’s not leaving yet,” I tell him, and he frowns at me.
“Lennon, are you sure you’re okay?”
This dick. Coming in like some fucking white knight.
