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“Because I never want to design clothes again. All my life, I’ve done what she wanted. Go to fashion school? Okay, Mom. Don’t go to New York, come home and work with me, I’ll mentor you. Okay, Mom. Oh, you don’t want to own a car in Chicago, just use Uber and take the El. Okay, Mom.” I give him a glimpse of what my entire life has been like with me going along with everything Mom wanted. “Don’t date Caden Sperry. He’s not your type.”
Okay, she was right about Caden, but I’ll never tell her or anyone else that.
Conor doesn’t say anything because he can’t. He’s always had a free pass to do whatever he wants. He played hockey, dated who he wanted, picked the school he’d attend all on his own. Never with one opinion from my mom.
“Okay, I get it,” he says. “But you did enjoy the fashion design if I remember correctly? And you did go to the school you wanted to?”
I nod and thank the waitress as she drops my wine off at the table. “I did, but I can’t imagine sketching anything right now. Design and Mom go hand in hand for me.”
The way she holds a piece of fabric while her other hand sketches that part of the dress to detail it perfectly? I do that now. My entire process is hers, not mine. Not the one I graduated with from KSU anyway.
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Fine. When I get back, you can take me over there. I want to see it.”
“Great. Thanks for seeing my side.” I smile and sip my wine, my meal completely untouched.
“I didn’t say I see your side. I just said I want to see it.” He buries his face in his plate again, and I want to dump my wine over his head.
I don’t really care what he thinks. I get that he’s looking out for me, but I’m an adult now. Not the little sister he has to protect. I’ll make that bar a success, just wait and see.
After dinner, Conor makes the excuse that he’s going out with some guys, which I really hope isn’t Rowan because I was hoping to sneak over to his place tonight. We say our goodbyes, and there’s a clear divide between us. He doesn’t agree with my decision, and I’m mad he’s not supporting me. Problems to deal with when he returns from Florida for good.
He goes to the bathroom, and I pull out my phone, ready to call an Uber, but I text Rowan instead.
You home?
Three dots appear, and I wait, hoping he’s not going to message me back saying he’s going out.
I’ve been waiting…
My stomach explodes with the fireworks only he can set off.
Fifteen minutes.
Get ready to take off your panties as soon as you get here. I need to taste you as soon as you walk through the door.
I clench my thighs underneath the table.
I grab an Uber, and the fifteen-minute drive to his apartment feels like an hour, but once the car pulls up to the curb, I hop out.
He waits just outside the security gate, leaning along the wall and scrolling through his phone. He’s in joggers, a sweatshirt, and barefoot with his slides on.
I walk up to him. “Excuse me, is this The Nest?”
His gaze lifts, and he pockets his phone, that smile that draws me in on his lips. “No, sorry.”
“Oh shucks, I was looking for Tweetie Sorenson?”
His smile drops, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Sorry, he’s out. You’re stuck with me.”
I draw back, but he doesn’t release my waist. “I guess you’ll have to do.”
“I guess so.” He turns and goes to press the key code into the security gate.
“Actually.” I place my hand over his, and he turns to face me. “I want to show you something.”
He tilts his head and studies me. I take his hand and guide him away from the gate, toward Peeper’s Alley.
“Yeah, I’m not in the mood for Ruby. Can we just—” He stops when I pull out a key and insert it in the lock. “Leigh?”
