Page 131 of Wrong For Me

I chew on my lip, thinking that over, then look at my dad. I don’t have to ask him what he thinks—it’s written all over his face. And I can’t blame him, I suppose. Leo refused to sign the NDA this summer. The background check Dad ran would have showed his difficult financial situation. I can see how it would make sense to my Dad, that Leo would be tempted to profit off our relationship.

A tiny flame of anger comes to life in my chest. I feel almost…protective. OfLeo. It seems so unfair to assume he’d do something so awful just because he had a shitty childhood and doesn’t have money.

But the anger flickers out as quickly as it arrived. “He’s the one I told,” I whisper. “He’s the only person I’ve ever talked to about that stuff.” Hell, I’ve never even told Will how I felt, though I’m sure he’s guessed a lot of it.

“Did you tell him in private?” Mom asks.

“Well…no.” I think about that night, as much as it hurts to remember. Drinking too much wine in front of the fire in that crowded bar. The Talk List. The way he’d felt so warm and solid next to me. The look in his eyes when he told me about his mom.

That crowded bar…

“We weren’t alone,” I admit. “We were in a wine bar.”

My dad makes a noise. “You were drinking in a bar? With a boy? I thought this conference was for school.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Ignore your father. So someone could have overheard you?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, there weren’t many people there who would have had any idea who I am.” But someone had recognized me, that very night. That was the reason Leo was being so nice to me in the first place.

An image of him in that ridiculously attractive suit flashes through my mind, the way he had leaned in and laughed while we were playing our little game at the reception. How it had felt like he was finally letting his walls down, letting me see beyond the grouchy, stone-faced facade.

I rub my chest as the ache in my heart throbs. “I don’t want to talk about Leo right now,” I mutter, barely able to get the words out. My mom watches me for a moment, concern etched in her face, but eventually she nods.

“How about we go inside and get some lunch?” she asks. “We haven’t eaten.”

I try to push the thoughts of Leo away, the way I’ve been doing since last night, but now that things feel more squared away with my parents, it isn’t so easy. He’s hovering around the edges of my mind, demanding to be seen.

My chest aches so bad I wonder how I’ll be able to force down a thing. But it’s been a long time since River and I ate those eggs so I should probably try.

That thought has me looking around the porch. “Hey, where’s Riv?”

“He went inside right after we got here,” my mom says. “Probably wanted to give us privacy.”

“He’s been really great about everything,” I tell them.

“I’m just glad he was with you,” Dad says.

We find my brother sitting at the kitchen table playing solitaire and he jumps at the chance to eat lunch—like Riv would ever turn down food. We eat turkey sandwiches and chips and tell our parents about our shortened day with the twins.

“How mad were they that we took off without them?” I ask.

“Oh, they’re pretty pissed,” my dad says, laughing. “You know how they hate to be left out. But I think they understand. They were worried about you.”

I hate thinking about Violet and Ash worrying. I hate that they’re home without us.

“Fox volunteered to fly out with them tonight or tomorrow if we decide to stay for a bit,” my mom says, reading my mind. “I thought that might be nice.”

It’s been a while since just my immediate family has been at the farm together. My dad bought this place for my mom before they got married and it’s where we lived when I was a baby. But when the whole family moved out to LA, this became more of a vacation home. And then my uncles had bought the adjacent land and put up the huge log home—or the monstrosity, as my dad likes to say—so now we spend a lot of our family vacations with the whole group here. Which I love, of course. But it would also be really nice to spend some time with just us.

“That would be great,” I say. “Have them come. Let’s stay for a bit.”

No one asks me about missing school, and I’m grateful. I have a feeling that’s something else I’m going to have to suck it up and talk to my parents about before the weekend is over.

We spend a typical night at the farm, though I don’t think I’ve ever been here with so few people since I was an infant. Mom and I take a long walk in the woods. Dad helps me pull the kayaks down from the storage shed and we spend some time on the creek. When the sun goes down, River builds a fire and we roast hot dogs for dinner.

It’s nice. Chill and much quieter than I’m used to, but nice.

The next afternoon my mom and I curl up in the swing with paperback books, hot chocolate, and the worn blue quilt from my bed. A cold front moved in overnight and the crisp fall weather suddenly feels a lot chillier. We’re expecting Fox and the twins to arrive soon, so when we hear a car engine I don’t think much of it.