Page 45 of Unbreakable Thread

He smiles from ear to ear. “Rainey, what are you doing here?” He licks his pillow-top lips.

“I can ask you the same question.”

He runs his thumb over his peppered beard. “I transferred here over a year ago.” That explains why Max and I ran into him at the restaurant months ago. His gaze lingers on my face just like it did years ago when I went to his party. Surely he can’t still have a crush on me? Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve aged.

“That’s great. How do you like it out here in this blistering heat?” It’s been so hot that it feels like my tits are laid out in a sauna twenty-four-seven.

“It’s definitely hotter here.” I will say he’s aged to a fine-looking man. “So, Rainey, what classes do you have?”

The paper the lady at the desk printed holds all the classes, times, and teachers I’ve chosen. I saw the name Mills as the sociology teacher, but hadn’t put it together. Oh, great tits, not again. I show him my classes for the semester, and he’s very pleased that I’m in his class.

“It’s going to be a great semester. I’m here to help with anything you may need. Just ask, and I’m there for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I press my lips into a straight line.

He blows air out and nods, his gaze still on me. “See you next week.” He winks and walks off to a man waiting for him.

Well, that was awkward as hell. I slip the paper in my purse and head to the student store. I still can’t believe Max paid for my tuition. I mean, he did say months prior that he would pay, but that was then.

After grabbing my required course materials, I head to my initial session with Dorothy Sanders. As I pull into the therapist’s parking lot, I let out a dry laugh at the absurdity—here I am, studying to help others navigate their minds while paying someone to navigate mine. I need to remind myself why I’m doing it—for my little guy or girl. And for him. Max.

My body is stiff, blood rushing in my ears. “Let’s start from the beginning,” my therapist suggests.

What beginning would that be? Life as Rainey, up to where I remember, because they filled my head with “don’t you remember this place, that trip, that moment?” and my parents would fill in the story, and I believed it, because what else could I do? You believe your parents. What I do remember is being in middle school when I met Lana.

“What beginning would you like?” I ask once my body relaxes and I sink into the red leather chair. “Would you like to hear about young Sol’s life or Rainey’s?” It sounds like I have multiple personalities.

Mrs. Sanders writes something on her notepad. “Wherever you prefer, where you feel more comfortable.”

I think about it.

I start where life started for me, as Rainey— that would be the day I met Max Cano. When he walked into the building, he was all I saw. I must have walked those halls a dozen times, watching guy after guy pass through, and not one of them lit anything up the way Max did. It’s like when you watch those movies and time slows, and you roll your eyes at that. But it actually happens to you. I wanted to meet the man behind the mask. At that moment, he became my beginning; little did I know we already had a beginning.

“How did you feel when you didn’t see him again?” she asks, picking off lint from her bright red shirt.

“I was heartbroken,” I answer earnestly. “I enjoyed his company. There was something about him…” Strange, how a short time could leave a mark that years couldn’t erase.

Mrs. Sanders adjusts her glasses and tucks her hair behind her ear. She hums. “Do you think you might have been attached to him?”

I run my hands over my cheeks. “No.” Not then, at least.

The conversation shifts to my upbringing. I hesitate, then say my adoptive parents gave me what others might call a normal family. Our parents loved us. Three kids, family dinners, weekend trips to the mall. Family vacations. My mom taught me how to bake, and I’m forever grateful. I was never an outcast, knowing now that I was adopted, only severely lied to.

“Was Rowan, your father, more overly protective with you than your siblings?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes, he was. Never with Beth and Justin. It was always with me, and I was always told to associate with the upper class.” No matter what he drilled into me, it never stuck. I didn’t care about the value of money hanging over others’ heads. Now I know why, because Sol didn’t come from money. She came from love.

I talk a little more about my feelings over my childhood with my adoptive parents until our hour is up.

It wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be; it helped me understand myself a little more. It’s the beginning of recovery. A real one this time.

The weekend blurred by. Between shifts at the café and preparing for the new semester, I barely had time to think. When Beth insisted she could postpone her return to Paris—her classes wouldn’t start for another three weeks—I had to be firm. “No, you need to go back to school. Go live your life,” I told her over coffee this morning, trying to sound casual. “I’ve got this handled.”

Her eyes searched mine, me putting on a brave face. But that’s the point, isn’t it? She deserves to live her youthful life in Paris, far from the chaos I seem to attract, far from Dad, who’s still out there somewhere, probably neck-deep in schemes that would make a prosecutor salivate. I’ll miss her when she leaves in three weeks, but I won’t let her become collateral damage in whatever mess he’s creating now.

My first class was English, and it feels strange to be back without my sidekick, Lana, especially since most of the students are younger. I ignore the young guys, and by young, I’m talking about guys Leo’s age, who are huddled at the entrance of sociology class. Looking over at me like I’m an aged steak ready to devour. It must be my tits because pregnancy has me looking like I had breast augmentation done. One size up, to be exact. I’m already a big-chested girl, and now my boobs flop out from my low-neck shirts and dresses.

Nervously, I make my way toward the front of Professor Mills’ class. His head jolts up from a stack of papers on his desk when my sandals click on the tile floor. I set my bag and handbag on the floor beside my desk. I give him a shy wave. Professor Mills drops what he’s doing and walks toward me.