The Perfect Guy: A Romance Novel Page 15

  I was a good judge of character. If every single second had been fake, I know that I would have felt it.

  His feelings for me had to be real—they just had to be.

  What I couldn’t accept was that he had technically been working for my mother the entire time, and I couldn’t believe the lengths that woman had gone to.

  She had hired a professional manipulator because she thought I was a lost cause!

  This was the final nail in the coffin that would bury our fragile relationship.

  I would never speak to that woman ever again.

  I looked out the windshield into the dark and accidentally caught a glance of myself in the rearview mirror. When I saw my smeared makeup, mascara stripes down my cheeks and smudged eye shadow and lipstick, I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

  Suddenly, everything appeared very comical.

  My life could have been the most dramatic and cliché movie of all time in that moment.

  Here I was, the destroyed heroine, crying in my car as I drove away from my destruction in the night. My mother was the evil villain behind it all, and I was now on my way home to confront her and say goodbye forever.

  If it began to rain, it would be the icing on the cake.

  However, had it been a movie, James would have been the misunderstood character who never really knew the damage he’d caused. In the end, he would come find me, make up for his mistakes, and I would forgive him because he was the love of my life that I’d been searching for without knowing it.

  Before the rolling credits, there would be a lame joke shared between us and then we would kiss passionately.

  But this wasn’t a movie and my laughter instantly died out.

  I frowned toward my reflection and then quickly grabbed a few paper napkins to wipe away the Picasso that had used my face as a canvas.

  My comedic despair was replaced with frustration at myself.

  What was I doing?

  This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who cried at my hopeless situation. I was the one who dusted myself off, shrugged, and kept going. I had to do the same now as well.

  When my face was fairly makeup free, I put my car into drive again and continued down the lit up highway.

  The clock on my dashboard read one fifteen. The adrenaline in my body had kept me awake so far, but I knew that I should check into a motel and get some sleep before going further. I had already been on the road for two hours, but I had thirty-three left to go.

  I glanced at the clock again and finally noticed the date. I realized that I would spend Christmas Day on the road. How depressing was that?

  I sighed in defeat and decided that I would drive as far as I could without being a danger on the road. Then I would find somewhere I could sleep for a few hours and call my dad and Becca. I would tell them that I was on my way home.

  They would naturally be worried and have lots of questions, but I would have to wait with the explanations until I was back. It was just too much on the phone.

  I would also ask them not to tell Renée—she did not deserve being called my mother anymore, not even in my head—because I wanted it to be a shock to her when I stepped through her door and was in front of her face. She would absolutely hear from me what I thought of her now.

  My heart was thumping violently against my ribcage, and I could feel the pumping of my blood in my fingertips. I also felt dizzy, and I knew had to calm down before I fainted behind the wheel. In order to calm down, I had to block out my thoughts.

  I punched the power button on my radio in anger and turned up the volume as high as I could without hurting my ears.

  Pop songs and ballads bellowed out around me and whenever I knew the lyrics, I sang along.

  It opened up my chest, and it felt easier to breathe. The sensation caused me to laugh out loud.

  Hours later, I let out a huge yawn and quickly wiped away the tears that it caused. The radio announcer revealed that the clock was four thirty, and I knew that I had to find a motel now.

  I had been on the road for a little over five hours when I briefly wondered what was going on at the school now.

  James had probably told Mrs. Kellen by now, so maybe Renée already knew, but then she probably would have called me even though it was in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t have cared at all because her mission would be to get me back to that school.

  It felt good to know that neither Renée nor Mrs. Kellen could force me back since they didn’t have anything against me now. Yes, the contract was still a legal matter, but unless Mrs. Kellen wanted me to go to the press with my story, she’d better pretend that my participation in the program never existed. The school would be ruined if the truth of what they were doing leaked out, so I counted on her cooperation.

  But then again…

  What if the contract hadn’t been legal at all? Had it just been another trick pulled by Renée to assure that I would go to the school? Dad had looked at it, but he wasn’t a lawyer.

  If I could get a lawyer to view the contract, could I make this whole thing to my advantage? Did I want that?

  No, I didn’t. I didn’t want my life to become scrutinized by the media and cause a big circus. What I wanted was to leave it all behind and forget.

  Since Renée hadn’t called to yell at me yet, I could only guess that Mrs. Kellen hadn’t told her, but why would she withhold that information?

  She wouldn’t unless she had an ulterior motive, but what kind of motive could that be?

  The questions swirled around in my head and made me even more tired, so when I saw a sign that indicated that there was a motel after the next lane exit, I signaled to the cars behind me.

  In the course of the next fifteen minutes, I found the motel, parked my car, got my key, and crashed onto the bed in the room with all of my clothes still on.

  Merry Christmas to me.

  I woke up around noon, and I didn’t waste any time before I dialed Becca’s number.

  “It’s about time, sweet thing! Where the hell have you been? Why haven’t you called, and what the fuck was up with that IQ free text you sent me last week?”

  I wanted to laugh at her greeting, but her questions caught me off guard—especially the last one. “What text?” I asked and frowned even though she couldn’t see me.

  “Uh, the gossip girl imitation I got when you couldn’t answer my calls?” Her voice went up in the end, so it sounded more like a question, and I knew that she was secretly questioning my sanity.

  “Stop those filthy thoughts right this moment, Sissy! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking, and it’s a grave sin having such dark beliefs about your own sister. What did the text say?”

  The giggle that left Becca sounded almost relieved. “Hallelujah! You’re still yourself! Praise the Lord and Jesus! Oh thank God!”

  Her exclamations and thanks to the big guy above continued, and I felt that I had to interrupt her after a while. “Sissy? The text? What did it say?”

  “Oh, I’ll read it to you and then you can explain!” I heard shuffling and then Becca’s voice doing a lame imitation of those airheads in Gossip Girl. “’Busy! Call you later! xo, B’ and darling, that ‘you’ was spelled with a single ‘u,’ so care to enlighten me about your new text language?”

  I almost swallowed my tongue when I heard the text that had mysteriously been sent from my phone. “I never sent that text. It would be an insult to my intelligence.”

  “You have no idea how good it feels hearing you say that! I was afraid they’d gotten to you when I saw it!”

  “Yeah, about that…I’m coming home.”

  There was silence for a few seconds and then a confused reply. “What? You’re coming home? Why? I mean, not that I’m not thrilled if you actually are, but I thought you had to stay for a year.”

  I puffed up my cheeks and exhaled while I thought on how to verbalize it. “I did, but there’s been this whole complicated mess, and—” I suddenly felt my throat close up,
and I couldn’t continue.

  I didn’t understand why my tears were coming again. It felt like I had a huge stone in my stomach and the feeling was multiplied when my longing for my best friend bloomed out as well.

  “Honey, are you crying?”

  I sniffled, and I hated how my voice trembled as I spoke. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just can’t explain it right now.” I sniffled again and wiped away the tears that were about to drip from my chin. “I have about thirty hours left before I’m home, but I was wondering if I can come to your place instead of my parents’.”

  “Of course you can! Just call me when you’re getting closer. I’ll set up a guestroom for you, ‘cause the basement won’t be necessary, right?”

  I laughed at her attempt to lighten the mood and thought about that conversation we had months ago about me being on the run and hiding in her basement.

  “Thank you so much! I’ll call again. And I’m sorry for calling like this today. I hope I didn’t ruin your Christmas.”

  “You could never ruin anything, babe! Now get your sweet ass in that car and drive over here, missy!”

  “I will. Thanks again. Talk to you soon. Love you!”

  “I love you, too, sweet-cheeks!”

  I hung up the phone and threw myself backwards onto the bed.

  Every emotion inside of me was slowly becoming too much, and I couldn’t bottle it up inside of me. Instead, it boiled over, and I never knew how I would react in the situations I found myself in.

  I was afraid that I would explode while on the road or get dehydrated because I couldn’t stop crying.

  I decided to buy a few bottles of water before continuing home just in case.

  The next call I had to make would be even more difficult because I had to talk to Dad, but if he was with Renée, that meant they were having their Christmas lunch at this time, but then again, if he wasn’t with her, who knew what he was up to.

  I took the chance and dialed his number.

  I never expected the emotional bubble that popped when I heard his voice in my ear.

  “Hi, Doll! How are you? Merry Christmas!”

  Instant blubbering mess.

  “P-Papa?”

  ”Jenn? What’s the matter, honey? Are you hurt?”

  “D-Dad? I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean to cr-ry. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what it is.” I could practically hear him shaking his head.

  “I-I couldn’t stay. I’m c-coming ho-ome!”

  “Honey, please take a deep breath. I need you to explain.”

  I did as he told me and worked on breathing slowly. When I felt that I had my voice under control again, I inhaled deeply. “I can’t explain it, Dad. Not on the phone anyway. I just wanted to tell you that I’m coming home.”

  “Okay, well, don’t worry about it! We’ll take it when you get here, all right!”

  I nodded, which was stupid since he couldn’t see me, but I did it automatically. “Thanks, Dad. Oh, and don’t tell Renée! I have a few things I need to say to her face, and I can’t handle her over the phone right now.”

  Dad didn’t even comment on the fact that I didn’t call Renée ‘Mom,’ and that interested me because that’s something he’d normally do.

  “No worries there. Renée and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment. In fact, I was going to tell you after the holidays, but since you’re coming home now, you should know.”

  “What?”

  “I have filed for divorce.”

  The surprise rendered me into silence for a few seconds. I had known, and secretly hoped, that Dad would ask for a divorce eventually, but I had seen too many false alarms through the years, so to hear that Dad had actually filed for one was huge.

  “Seriously? For real? You’re getting a divorce? When?” My head was swimming with questions, and it was no surprise to me when I didn’t feel an ounce of pain or sadness at my parents’ future separation.

  I heard Dad sigh on the other end. “Doll, I think this, just like your own explanation, is better to take when you’re here. Do you think you can wait?”

  “Yeah, of course, Dad. I’ll be home some time the day after tomorrow, I think, okay?”

  “Sure, although I hate that you’re spending Christmas on the road.”

  I smiled at that. The holidays meant a big deal to the Braun family, especially to Dad since he had great memories of Nana getting her energy back for the sake of celebrating a proper Christmas, so knowing that I wouldn’t celebrate this year troubled him quite a lot.

  “It’s okay. My Christmas is rather ruined anyway, and I have no desire to make it memorable.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure. I’ll see you in two days, Dad. I will stay at Becca’s, so just come over there when it works for you.”

  “Will do. Drive safe, Doll,” he told me, and I could almost feel the love radiating through the phone.

  “Always am,” I replied and hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER 20

  KARMA

  Becca had this awesome window couch that went out in a curve with three windows that made it possible for you to see everything happening on the street outside.

  This was where I was sitting and watching the neighbor’s kids have a snowball fight when I felt a hand being gently placed on my shoulder. When I turned my head away from the street, I saw that it was Becca, and she was offering me a steaming cup of delicious smelling tea.

  “Thanks,” I said and took the offered cup into both of my hands. The warmth felt good, and it radiated from my fingertips up into my arms.

  “Are you okay?” she asked and started to stroke my arm that was closest to her.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I took a sip of the tea and made a small moan at the pure berry taste that erupted on my tongue.

  “Are you sure? You’ve been very quiet since you came here.”

  I’d been here three days now, and tomorrow was New Year’s Eve. I still hadn’t talked to Renée, and I knew that Dad hadn’t told her I was here, but I knew that she was aware of my disappearance from the school because she had called my phone countless times and left a ton of voice messages.

  Dad had been here already when I pulled into the driveway late on the twenty-seventh. He had told me the details of his divorce with Renée.

  He knew that it would be less painful if they avoided going to court, so he had agreed that she could keep the house if she wanted, and sadly, she did have the right to fifty percent of Dad’s money since it was placed in a joint account.

  However, I had apparently underestimated Dad, because before he married Renée, and he found out she was pregnant with me, he had known that he would need a safety net, so he had opened an account in Nana and Pop’s names, and they had taken care of the growing money while they were still alive.

  When they died, the account had been changed into my name.

  This made it impossible for Renée to ever touch that money, and it made me so happy to know that she would be screwed on quite a big sum of money that Dad had saved during the twenty-seven years I had lived.

  Yes, she would walk away with a considerable amount, but at least Dad would end up with the longer straw.

  I hadn’t been able to hold my giggle in when Dad told me that most of the money Renée would get would go to keeping the extravagant house she’d wanted to run anyway. She would be able to afford it for six months—maybe a year at the most—unless she started to work, which I doubted she would.

  I was quite positive she would try to find another rich husband that could provide for her.

  “Yeah. I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything, I guess,” I said and smiled reassuringly.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the party tomorrow? You know, get your thoughts on something else?” she continued, but I was shaking my head before she had even finished talking, and she sighed. “You know, if I hadn’t already promised Solomon, I would have stayed home wit
h you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I would hate to be the one who ruins your plans. I just don’t have it in me to celebrate right now.”

  Becca climbed up on the couch and sat opposite of me with her legs folded underneath her. “I was wondering about that. You weren’t nearly this torn up after George and even though the two assholes seem to be from the same tree, you still mourn this one. Why is that?”

  My shoulders slumped forward, and I had to take a deep breath and collect myself before I could answer her. “I never loved George. I know it sounds strange that after everything James did to me, I still have feelings for him. I fell in love with him at the school.”

  Becca’s eyes were so sad while she studied me. “Did you really? Wasn’t it just his mask you fell for?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. What you’re saying does sound logical, but I have this feeling inside that if we had met during other circumstances, he wouldn’t have treated me like that. He was disrespectful at times, yes, and I hated it, but now, when I look back, it feels as if he could read me like no one had before. He knew that what he did, I craved underneath my own mask.”

  “You wanted him to control you?” Becca asked with a raised eyebrow. Her expression told me that she thought I was crazy.

  I smiled at her. “No, not that. There were other things. He kissed me, and I slapped him for it because I felt like he forced himself on me, but now I can see that it was the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had. I’ve never felt so wanted in my entire life, and I don’t think his feelings were fake. He actually wanted me.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t change that what he did to you was appalling.”

  “True, and I’m not defending him when I say this, but he was only doing his job. It’s Renée and George that should get the blame and Mrs. Kellen for starting a program like that.”

  “So you’re not gonna blame him at all?”

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t his fault that he hurt me. I was the one who was weak and fell for him.”

  Becca frowned and pointed at me. “Don’t you dare take the blame on yourself, Missy! You had no control over any of what was done to you.”