Page 58 of Bachelor

“Christian knows.”

A heavy, crushing silence settled between us. Jessica bristled, pulling her hand away and laying it back over the steering wheel. “How?”

“I don’t know, but he knows we were in Sleepy Hollow together over fall break. He’s threatening to make it public if I don’t bend to his will.”

“What is he trying to do?”

“Make me do what he wanted me to do last summer. Marry him. Be his pretty little housewife so he can run off and continue having affairs. He wants me to help break off the engagement with Nicole that I orchestrated. I’m not going to. I just hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Do you think Cassandra knows?” Jessica asked after a moment of contemplation.

“Honestly, she might,” I admitted, perking up a bit. “The things she asks me about Rhys are weird. She’s definitely fishing for information.”

“Either that or she’s jealous of you.”

“I don’t why she would be,” I replied, chuckling a bit.

“I think you had her dream life and flushed it down the toilet to go to graduate school.” Jessica met my laugh with one of her own. “And now she’s trying to figure out what would have caused you to do such a thing. Leaving your sorority, shooting down your rich boyfriend’s proposal, breaking up with him to pursue higher education.” She waved her hand in a short circle. “She thinks you’re crazy, plain and simple.”

“And she thinks Rhys has a thing for me.”

“Well, he does, so...”

I smirked at her. “It doesn’t show on his face, does it?”

“Every time he looks at you.”

Something warm fluttered through my chest. I’d caught that look but tried to ignore it.

But could others tell if they didn’t know us as well as Jessica did?

“You guys will figure it out,” Jessica concluded with a nod. “What to get some lunch before we go back to campus?”

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes for a moment and letting my problems slip away for the rest of the trip.

***

ITUCKED MY EMPTY SUITCASEback under my bed, happy to be home. Campus was alight with activity as the weekend rolled to an end, everyone headed to the library to catch up on homework and study before the week started.

I sat on the edge of my bed and ran my hands down my sore thighs before lying back and picking up my phone. I had a new text in the group chat for my old study group. Everyone was going out for dinner and drinks tonight in town before going to the gallery.

I hadn’t heard from Rhys yet, but I thought spending the night alone wasn’t ideal, so I took a quick shower and got ready to meet everyone at an Italian restaurant tucked in the center of downtown Gatlington.

I pulled on my coat and checked my phone again, finding a few more texts in the group chat. But I had a missed call.

From Rhys.

He’d left a voicemail. My heart nearly stopped. Why was I thinking the worst right now? Why did I think he’d called to tell me he was wrong, and this wasn’t a good idea?

“It’s me,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “I’m sorry we never got to talk about what happened, but I want to. Could you come to my office at eight tomorrow, before classes start?” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I miss you, Whit.” Then he hung up the call.

I stared down at my phone, finding it hard to swallow past the lump that had just formed in my throat. I sent him a quick text saying I’d be there at eight. Rhys wasn’t much of a texter. I’d found that out early on, so I didn’t expect a reply. I slid my phone into my purse and left my apartment building, walking briskly in the bitter cold, my hands stuffed in my pocket and my head bowed to the chilled breeze rustling the trees the lined the bike trail.

I almost missed her. I almost didn’t see her pink, puffy coat as she stepped out from the fork in the trail that led back to campus.

“Hey, Whitney,” Nicole said almost shyly.

I whirled around. It’d been ages since I’d heard her voice, let alone spoken to her. Nicole’s eyes were wide beneath the rim of her black beanie, and her blond hair fall in pin-straight tendrils over her shoulders. Her cheeks went a rosy pink as she lifted her hand to brush her hair back, her massive engagement ring—the ring Christian had proposed to me with last summer that belonged to his grandmother—glinting on her finger.

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