Page 11 of The Woman I’ve Become

I want him.

I need him.

Casey Duval is my everything.

I prop my feet on the dash, stretching my legs so that my shorts slide all the way to the very tops of my thighs.

He notices.

That little twitch of his lips makes me tingle all over. His black hair brushes his collar, tapering up slightly to thick sideburns and a side sweep of fringy bangs across his forehead. But it’s that hint of a beard shadowing his jaw that really gets me. I love the way it feels against my skin when he kisses me. I love his voice, so deep and sexy. When he says my name, I can hardly hold back a quiver. He has these gray eyes that are so clear, and those lips . . . The man has amazing lips. He’s tall and strong and—Jesus, I’m so damned wet just looking at him. I stare out the windshield. I need to pull myself together or he’ll think I’m a desperate little girl.

But he is so damned hot. I can’t believe he wants to hang out with me, yet he does. Like, every possible minute I can get away. A whole two months, that’s how long we’ve known each other. It’s nothing, I know. No time at all, really. But it feels like so much more . . . like we were made for each other. As if we were meant to be together.

I’ve made up my mind. Today is going to be the day. We’re going to have sex. It’s time. Most of my friends have already gone all the way with their guys. But I just haven’t felt like the timing or the guy was right. Until now. And now I know what I’ve been waiting for.

I stare at his handsome profile. Him. I’ve been waiting for him my whole life.

He glances at me as if I said the words out loud. “Should we go to my place?”

I nod adamantly, my heart dancing. “I have loads of time. My parents think I have a student council meeting today. They won’t be expecting me until six thirty or after.”

I checked myself out of school at noon with a note saying I had a dental appointment. It isn’t the first time I’ve forged my mother’s signature, and I suspect it won’t be the last.

Because I would do anything—I stare up at the man next to me—to be with him.

A. N. Y. T. H. I. N. G.

Nothing else matters. Not my old friends that I never see anymore. Not any of the activities I used to love or think were important. I have left all of it behind for him. I will finish high school and college because I have no choice. But nothing else will stand in my way. Nothing else matters to me.

There is only one person I trust with this secret. She is the only one who understands just how much I need him. I cannot breathe without him.

Yes, we had sex that afternoon. It was everything a girl’s first time should be.

But there was more than one first that day . . . and I had no idea it was just the beginning.

Now

7

Westport, Connecticut

It’s dark by the time we arrive at the lake house. The air smells fresh from a recent rain. How I’ve missed this place. I don’t know why I bother with returning to the city. I shake my head. My obligations, of course. Although I have put aside most of my own philanthropic work for now, I’m the wife of a much-lauded philanthropist in his own right and CEO of an investment firm—not to mention the future mayor of New York City. I have charity functions and committee meetings for women’s outreach programs to attend. I hold a significant position in the social hierarchy of the community.

None of that matters anymore. I’m not sure it ever really did—to me, at least.

I wonder what they think now with all those fiery accusations going viral. I can well imagine. Julia Anderson Belmont was a privileged teen who epitomized the quintessential mean girl. She used a serial killer to excuse her selfish actions, effectively stepping on the bodies of his real victims. When is she going to tell the truth? Answer for what she did? The case should be reopened, and she should be investigated.

I will not look at the comments related to the article. Not today. Not ever, I promise myself. I must stay focused.

Acacia unlocks the door, and Olivia rushes around her and into the house, excited to be back. I enter the alarm code and follow the two of them more slowly, absorbing the sensations and memories of our summers here. The house smells pleasant, welcoming despite having been closed up for months. I smile at the hint of Italian seasoning in the air. Helen has made her specialty and left it for us. I will have to remember to add a nice tip to her salary this month.

“There’s pizza!” Olivia bursts from the kitchen, all smiles. “Can we eat now? I’m starving!”

“It’s still warm,” Acacia notes, coming up behind Olivia. “Helen must have only just left.”

Helen goes the extra mile, just as Eleanor always did. I genuinely appreciate all the additional effort, especially now.

“Absolutely.” I push my lips into a happy smile, and Olivia tugs Acacia back toward the kitchen.