Regretting You(78)

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Grant?”

I grab a Kleenex and wipe my nose. “This is she.”

“I’m the technician who’ll be repairing your cable today. I just wanted to let you know that someone will need to be home from nine until five so that I can have access to do the repairs.”

I sink onto the bed. “Seriously? You expect me to sit in this house for the entire day?”

There’s a pause. He clears his throat and says, “It’s just policy, ma’am. We can’t enter an empty residence.”

“I get that it’s policy for someone to be here, but you can’t give me a smaller window of time? Maybe two hours? Three?”

“It’s difficult for us to pinpoint a particular time because every repair varies in need.”

“Yeah, but come on. An entire day? Why do I have to stay in this house for eight fucking hours?” Oh my God. I’m cussing at the cable technician. I shake my head, pressing my palm against my forehead. “You know what? Just cancel it. I don’t even want cable. No one has cable anymore. In fact, you should probably start looking into other careers, because apparently being a cable technician is no longer sustainable.”

I end the call, and then I toss my phone on the bed and stare at it.

Okay. Okay. This is rock bottom. This is definitely rock bottom.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





CLARA


I get to school half an hour early. There are only a handful of vehicles in the student parking lot, and Miller’s truck isn’t even one of them. There’s no way I’m walking into Jonah’s classroom early, so I pull the lever on my seat and lean back.

I’m not going to cry.

In fact, I’m not even angry right now. If anything, I’m numb. So much has happened in the last twelve hours that I feel like my brain must have an emergency shutoff valve. I’m not sad about it. I prefer this feeling of numbness to the anger I had last night and the embarrassment I had this morning when my mother was so rude to Miller.

I get it. I snuck a boy into my room. I had sex. That’s really shitty, but she lost her privilege last night to tell me what is and isn’t shitty behavior.

I flinch at the knock on my passenger window. Miller is standing next to my car, and I no longer feel numb because seeing him springs a little bit of life back into me. He opens the door and takes a seat, handing me a coffee.

He’s never looked so good. Sure, he’s tired, and neither of us have brushed our teeth or our hair, and we’re wearing the same clothes we wore yesterday, but he’s holding coffee and looking at me like he doesn’t hate me, and that’s a beautiful thing.

“Figured you could use the caffeine,” he says.

I take a sip and savor the heat against my tongue and the sweet caramel sliding down my throat. I don’t know why it took me so long to appreciate coffee.

“For what it’s worth . . . happy birthday?”

He says it like a question. I guess it is. “Thank you. Even though this is the second-worst day of my life.”

“I think yesterday was the second-worst day of your life. Today still has a chance of looking up.”

I take another sip and grab his hand, squeezing it, sliding my fingers through his.

“What happened after I left? Did she ground you?”

I laugh at that. “No. And she won’t.”

“You snuck me into your room last night. Not sure how you can get out of that one, even if it is your birthday.”

“My mother is a liar, a cheat, and a very bad example for me. I decided this morning I’m no longer following her rules. I’ll be better off just raising myself.”

Miller squeezes my hand. I can tell he doesn’t like what I’m saying, but he doesn’t talk me out of feeling this way. Maybe he thinks I just need time to calm down, but time won’t help. I’m done with her.

“What’d Lexie say when you told her what happened?”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lexie?”

He nods, sipping his coffee.

“Shit! Lexie!” I crank my car. “I forgot to pick her up.”

Miller laughs. “Well, in your defense, you’ve had an eventful morning.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

I kiss him back. “Okay.”

He grabs the door handle and goes to get out of the car. I squeeze his arm, needing to say one more thing. When he falls back into his seat and looks at me, I lift my hand to the side of his head, not knowing what words to use to convey how sorry I am for last night. I stare at him, my heart full of remorse, but I seem to have forgotten how to verbalize anything at this point.

Miller leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. I close my eyes, and he remains there for a moment. He brings his hand up to the back of my neck and caresses it. “It’s okay, Clara,” he whispers. “I promise.” His lips briefly meet my forehead before he gets out of my car and closes the door.

I am fully aware of what an asshole move that was last night. I’m still mortified by it. So much so I already know I’m not telling Lexie what happened between Miller and me. I’ll never tell anyone. And I hope someday we’ll have a redo of that moment, because I certainly did a great job of ruining it.