Emma stops her wayward glances and looks me directly in the eye.
“What?”
“I said, I’m sorry. For what happened at the restaurant.”
She takes a little time to bask in her confusion before replying. “Really?”
“I mean, there’s a lot of shit between us, right? But I think, for the sake of our parents, we should let it go. We should try to be neutral, just like you suggested for our project meetings.”
Shit. I’m playing this moment with such skill, I deserve a fucking Academy Award right now.
Her brows draw together, skepticism clear on her face. But beneath it, I see something else. Hope.
“Are you serious?”
Shrugging, I lift my hands, palms out. “Yeah, I am. Whatever happened in high school, I think it’s time we just let it go. I’ll drop it if you will. We can start fresh.”
“I… I actually think that’s a really good idea,” Emma replies. “I don’t want to wreck this for my dad. I can tell he’s really happy.”
A surge of anger threatens to rise up in me—yeah, I bet that asshole is fucking happy—but I shove it down. Instead, I smile at Emma, letting my eyes warm, and I’m rewarded when the distrust in her eyes fades just a little.
There’s still a long way to go to get her right where I need her, but this is a good goddamn start. She wants to believe.
Now, let the shit show begin.
13
Emma
No way.
No fucking way.
This can’t be real. There’s no way he’s offering on olive branch after how pissed he was the other night. He looked furious and disgusted when he saw our parents together, and the memory of it makes hurt and anger boil in my veins. It’s like he thinks there’s something wrong with my dad, something wrong with my whole family. With me.
But the expression on his face now is so different than it was at the table. There’s actual warmth in his eyes, and he seems genuinely relieved that I agreed to start fresh.
It’s not fair. I know that. Part of me wants to cling to my need for revenge—but where would that leave Dad? It would fucking crush him, and probably ruin his relationship with Claire.
So I have to try. For him, I’ll let go of the shit in the past.
“Hey, do you want to have dinner tonight?” Trent asks, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Somewhere off-campus where we’ve never been before. Maybe that would be a good sort of… stepping stone. To start over again.”
I pause, chewing my lip, searching his face for the lie. I have every reason to believe Trent is fucking with me somehow. But there’s something in his voice and expression that makes me want to trust him.
Is this for real? Could this possibly be happening?
“Sure. That sounds… nice,” I finally say.
The scary part is, I’m not lying.
This is exactly what I want. I want to resolve things with Trent, and I feel like if I do, that will help me to resolve things with the other guys too. Trent was the one that started this whole fucking thing, and maybe he’s going to be the one to end it.
“There’s a new place I keep driving past. Passerotto. Maybe we should meet there. On Church Street,” he goes on.