Why couldn’t she be at work today? “Not listening!” I yelled. “Putting in earbuds.”
I tore open the envelope then hesitated. What if this was an official “we’re done” letter? But nobody did that anymore. We dumped by text, not old lady stationery. I caught a whiff of something. I pressed the envelope to my nose and almost giggled out loud. Had he actually put his cologne on this?
I took a deep breath and eased the letter out of the envelope. My eyes scanned the page, reading greedily, and then I started over again, reading slowly. By the third pass, tears flowed down my cheeks and my heart banged against my rib cage. I reached for my phone, ready to call him to see when we could meet.
Then I hesitated. He’d made such a grand, romantic gesture; I should do the same. I ran to my desk and pulled out an old box of stationery I’d received as a gift. It was almost as lame as Slade’s stationery. There were so many things I wanted to say. I sighed dreamily then started writing.
My letter was much longer than Slade’s. I proofread it one last time and tucked it in an envelope. Stamps. I dug around in my desk drawer, my hands landing on the uncashed paychecks Dr. Edmunds had sent before I’d ended our deal. Guilt flooded me.
Maybe I should remind her how completely done that deal was. I yanked out the checks and tore them in pieces, then shoved them in another envelope. I dug around for stamps again, dredging up a faded booklet.
Writing quickly, I addressed one envelope to Slade and one to his mom. I stuck stamps on each envelope then jumped up, grabbing my purse. If I got to the post office before five, the letters would probably arrive tomorrow. I didn’t think I could wait longer than that before seeing Slade.
As I drove, I imagined him opening my letter. Imagined him calling me as soon he read it. Imagined how amazing it would feel to be in his arms again.
The stamps said “Forever.” I didn’t know about forever, but I hoped we could at least move on to “for now.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Slade
Thursday, July 18
When I got home from the pool, I grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. I sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter, my body jangling with nervous energy.
Trina should’ve called or texted by now. It had been two days. I knew people called it snail mail, but come on. I shoved some chips in my mouth then chased them with soda, debating about calling Desi. She’d know if Trina got the letter, right? That was the kind of things girls would flip over and talk about for hours.
I pushed away from the counter and wandered into the hallway.
“Slade, you’re home. I didn’t hear you come in.” Dad walked out of his study and held out a pink envelope. He smirked. “Special delivery.”
I yanked it out of his hand and headed for the stairs, my stomach clenching when I recognized Trina’s perfect penmanship.
“You’re welcome,” Dad called up the stairs. “Thanks for being such an awesome Dad and not opening my letter.”
I ignored him, slamming my door behind me. She’d written me back. Of course she had. I grinned as I tore open the envelope, but instead of pulling out a letter, I pulled out a scrap of paper. I stared at it, frowning. It was part of a check with my mom’s signature on the bottom. What the hell?
I dumped the rest of the envelope’s contents onto my desk. The torn bits of paper scattered like puzzle pieces. I reassembled them quickly. When I saw who the payee was on the checks, I stopped breathing. My mom had paid Trina? For what? Gnawing panic filled my chest. I raced back downstairs.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked Dad, bursting into his study.
He looked at me from over the top of his glasses. “What’s the emergency? Trina use too many big words in her letter? I have a dictionary if you need it.”
I glared at him then put the check pieces on his desk. I assembled them so he could read them.
“What the hell is this?” I demanded.
He stared at the checks, looking as shocked as I felt. He raised his eyes to mine. “I don’t know, Slade.” His total cluelessness freaked me out.
We stared at each other, not speaking, then he pulled out his cell and glanced at it. “Mom said she’d be home around six. I guess we’ll have to wait for an answer to this mystery. She’s with clients; I can’t disturb her.”
I stalked through the kitchen out to the deck. I tore off my shirt and dove into the pool, swimming fast and furious. Why the hell had Mom paid Trina? But Trina hadn’t cashed the checks. So what did that mean? And what kind of message was Trina sending me? That she was done with me, after all I’d said in that letter? I swam harder, pushing my body until my lungs ached.
Mom’s tears flowed down her pale face. Dad sat next to her at the kitchen table, his face hardened into a grimace. I looked from one to the other, still reeling from what Mom had told me. I didn’t know who was more shocked by Mom’s secret deal with Trina: Dad or me.
“Slade, honey, please try to understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand.” I bit out the words. “You thought I was such a loser you had to hire someone to teach me how to…to…I don’t know. Turn into the perfect son you’ve always wanted, I guess.”
I didn’t know how much longer I could contain my fury. But as pissed as I was at my mom, my anger toward Trina threatened to explode like an out-of-control fireworks show.
All that time, everything had been a charade. She’d pretended we were partners, but the whole time she’d been freaking reporting back to my mom? Had she reported back on our dates, too?
And she was pissed with me over a stupid, meaningless bet I’d made with Alex? What she’d done to me was a million times worse.
I’d never forgive her. Ever.
And I’d never let anyone that close to me again.
Chapter Forty-Four
Trina
Friday, July 19
I should’ve heard from Slade by now. It was Friday, and I’d mailed the letter on Wednesday. I chewed my lip. Should I call him? Text?
Maybe the post office screwed up. Maybe the mailman got in a car accident and my letter never got delivered. I sighed, picking at my blue toenails. I could torture myself or just do what I needed to do.
I grabbed my phone and texted him, hitting send before I could chicken out. Did you get mail from me?
Entire species spawned and died before he replied.
Yep. Message received.
What the heck? I reached for his letter, holding it like a talisman, and typed a new text.
Meet me tonight? 8:00?
This time his reply flew back. You’re kidding, right? How about never.
My heart hit the floor. He’d read my letter, and this was his response? But what about his letter? Had it been a joke?
Hands shaking, I pressed call instead of send. I needed to hear his voice, to figure out what the hell was going on.
“What?” he snapped, answering on the first ring. “You calling to file a report with my mom? Run through all her money already, BB?”
My breath caught in my throat. No. No no no.
“What are you—”
His bitter laugh was sharp in my ear. “Don’t even try, BB. I know all about the deal you made with my mom. She told me everything.” He paused then spoke in a low angry voice. “Well, that’s not quite accurate. You told me a lot, by sending me those checks.”
What? But I’d sent the checks to his mom. I thought back to my scrambled rush to get the letters to the post office, and the reality of what must have happened hit me. I’d mixed up the envelopes somehow. I felt weightless, but not in a good way. More like I was about to pass out from shock and horror.
“No,” I whispered. “You weren’t supposed to see those. There was another env—”
He cut me off. “I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. You were pissed about a stupid fifty-dollar bet—which never meant anything to me—but you took hundreds of dollars from my mom? You had to be paid to spend time with me? You reported on me like I was a fucking child, Trina.” I could practically feel his anger reach through the phone to slap me.