Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I also made it clear that his sons weren’t as untouchable as he thought, even if he doesn’t know about my direct involvement in Tim’s death. Even if he believes Tor’s story, it was still my ex-boyfriend who killed him. It was still because of me.
He has his perfect counterfeit reality set up here and running like a well-oiled machine, and I’m a glitch in the system that threatens all of it, so of course he doesn’t like me. I’ve ruined everything.
I’ll never like him either. I think he’s the most evil of all of them because I know he can see the situation for what it really is, and he’s decided not to care. He isn’t delusional; he’s indifferent. I doubt Myra has the capacity to see reality anymore. As Tor says, she’s fully occupied maintaining this world for her husband. She’s spent so long wrapped up in it, it probably all feels real to her.
Carson lifts the linen napkin from his lap and drops it on the table, the decisive movement breaking the spell we’re all under and tearing me from my thoughts and observations.
I thought the entire night would pass without another word from him, but he speaks up now.
“Torrance and I spoke about your lost application,” he says to me, and my heart nearly stops at having him address me directly without even the buffer of Myra’s involvement.
My face flushes because I don’t know what he’s even talking about. “My… lost application?”
“To Calhoun University in Boston.”
Confusion takes over, my jaw inching open. “I… I didn’t apply to Calhoun University.”
I would never apply to Calhoun University. It would be easier to get into Harvard, and even if I could get in, I could never afford to go there. I’m sure they offer academic scholarships, but with my senior year grades… I wouldn’t qualify. I also wouldn’t get in.
Watching me as if my insistence on speaking is a mild annoyance, he goes on. “I have influential friends at Calhoun. It’s my alma mater as well. I spoke with them and told them that the application you turned in seems to have been lost and you’re worried about being able to attend in the fall. They assured me that as long as you fill out a new application and submit it along with a copy of your personal essay so they can get everything filed, it won’t be a problem. Of course, it’s too late to submit anything through the usual channels now. You’ll have to deliver a physical copy in person.” His gaze flicks to Tor. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“It won’t be,” Tor confirms. “Thank you for handling that for us.”
Carson nods, but I’m so confused.
“I can’t get into Calhoun,” I say, my gaze jumping from Tor to his dad. I’m getting that ‘am I the one taking crazy pills?’ feeling again. “My high school transcripts… Senior year was a disaster for me. I don’t have the grades to get into Calhoun anymore.”
“We’re fixing that as well,” Myra assures me with a kind smile.
“You’ll want to stop by the high school and pick up a fresh copy of your transcripts before you go,” Carson says. Then, before I can list more problems, he adds, “I understand you may not be able to afford tuition at Calhoun, but with the death of his brother, Torrance’s trust fund has doubled, so… I’m sure he’ll be able to absorb the cost for you.”
My jaw is practically on the floor.
I feel Tor tense beside me at his father’s last remark, and when I look over at Tor, I see that glint of cool irritation in the eyes he clearly inherited from his father.
I don’t think he intended for that part to be shared.
The thought is reinforced when I look back at Carson, and the man actually smiles.
The friction between the two men makes everyone else at the table uneasy. Tessa catches my gaze and tells me, “Calhoun’s a great school. You’ll love it there.”
“And Boston is a beautiful city,” Myra enthuses, joining in. “It will be a lovely place to live.”
Carson pushes back his chair, and Myra’s pleasant expression falters, concern breaking through as she watches her husband rise. “We still have the dessert course—”
“I’ve done my part, and I’m not in the mood for dessert.”
Myra watches him stand, her expression absolutely crestfallen. “Carson, please…”
His gaze passes over his son and lands on his wife. “I’ll be in my study.”
The entire room seems to hold its breath as Carson makes his exit from the dining room. We all breathe again once he’s gone, but the mood has shifted. Myra’s anxiety is up, and when she looks at me across the table, her eyes glint with moisture and sadness. “Please forgive him. It’s been a hard couple of weeks.”
There have been many times over the past year that I was convinced I would love nothing more than to see either or both of Tim’s parents squirming like bugs beneath my shoe, but in the face of Myra’s fearful sadness, I find myself not enjoying the feeling at all. “I understand,” I assure her gently.