She nodded still looking uncertain, but I let it go. I had other things I wanted to talk about. I leaned against my SUV and laced our fingers together. “Will you tell me about the scars on your back? Was it your dad? It’s just . . . Isabella said something once, and last night . . . they didn’t bother me,” I assured her softly. “They’re beautiful. They’re you.”
She bit her lip and nodded, staring at the ground. “My father . . . he changed after my mom died. He . . . he wanted to control me and make sure I didn’t turn out like her. He lashed me with a belt and the buckle left scars. It only happened a few times—but the last time, I knew I couldn’t stay anymore. I came to live with Mimi.” She paused, her hands twisting. “He didn’t ruin me—I want you to know that. I don’t even hate him . . . I think. He was so in love with my mom, and when she left us and then died—it ripped his whole world apart.”
I couldn’t relate to the abuse, but I got that love could be a powerful thing and that it could change people.
“Anyway, there’s a core of strength inside me . . . this need to just live and be happy. And I know that fate has a big life ahead of me, and whatever happened to me back then isn’t going to screw it up. And maybe . . . just maybe, awful things had to happen to me before I ended up in the right place.”
Her gray gaze connected with mine, and I read hope there.
I held my rage for her father in and focused on her. I’m sorry might come across as pity, so I didn’t say it. Instead, I kissed her lightly and hugged her, wrapping my forearms around her small waist and pulling her tight against me. “I’ve got you,” I whispered. “And you are in the right place.”
Sunny
ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON NEARLY two weeks after the library incident I stood outside one of the premier wedding shops in the Atlanta area, a chic little place called Boutique Celeste. I was fake dress shopping.
It was rather cold for the first week of November. I shifted closer to the store, anxious to get inside and get this task over with.
Isabella and Mimi flanked me on either side, my bodyguards. I say that because they’d both been sending me concerned looks for the past week. Just this morning Mimi had commented on the hollows in my cheeks. Isabella had chimed in about the shadows under my eyes.
I just missed Max.
Since the library, I’d seen less of him. We’d had lunch together several times, but for the most part we hadn’t been alone. I had my car back, so we weren’t driving to class together. Of course, he’d check in with me, texting late at night after practice. He always sounded exhausted. Most times he wanted to come over, often insisting, but I brushed him off with excuses that I was in bed or studying. He was in the thick of football season, or he probably would have pressed me more.
We’d had our magical night in the basement, and it had been everything, but since then I’d decided to give him some space until he figured out exactly what we were. Shit. I didn’t know what we were. Perhaps sex only complicated us. I didn’t know. What I did know was that he had a ton of pressure on him, and I didn’t want to mess with his head like Bianca had.
Thankfully there hadn’t been any more crazy incidents or flowers left on my stoop. We still didn’t know who the culprit was though. There was no video footage from the stairwell, just views of the library entrances and exits. Campus police had pored through them, along with my manager Pam, but there was nothing suspicious. It was frustrating—and scary. If the culprit had planned it, it meant they’d been waiting for me to finally make a trip down to the basement. My hope was that it was a harmless prank decided on a whim by someone who didn’t even know me.
A pretty young girl in her mid-twenties with long brown hair rushed toward us from across the street. “So sorry I’m late,” she gushed with a sheepish grin. She stuck her hand out. “I’m Carrie Longmire with WBBG Channel 7, and I also freelance with the Atlanta Gazette for their Lifestyle section. Millicent asked me to write the article about your engagement.”
“Of course.” I shook her hand and introduced Mimi and Isabella. Max had informed me of this a week ago, and I’d agreed. I was seeing this darn thing through to the end for him.
We went inside the mirrored double doors and one of the shopkeepers met us immediately, a huge smile on her face. Of course, Millicent had prepped the owner of the boutique of our arrival.
After air kisses and introductions, we made our way through the store to a small posh sitting area surrounded by a wall of mirrors. Mimi and Isabella both took a glass of champagne that was offered by the sales girl. Carrie declined.
“Miss Blaine, would you like a drink?”