A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(122)

He had to know I was with Crew. At his apartment.

“You’re his little girl. He doesn’t want you to grow up. I keep telling him you have to become your own person sometime,” she says.

I decide in that moment to ask her the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since the last gift arrived. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Her expression turns contrite. “It’s tough to hear your daughter call you out for your cruelty.”

“I truly believed you didn’t like me,” I admit, my voice small.

“It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with your father.” Her tone is faintly bitter. “He’s busy working. Or worrying about you. I didn’t see where I fit into the equation, so I lashed out at you whenever I could. And that’s awful. I was jealous of your relationship with your father. I felt pushed out of our family of three.”

I hate that she felt that way, but I hate worse that she took it out on me when I was just a kid who wanted both of their attention.

She releases a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Wren. I hope you can forgive me.”

When she grabs hold of my hand, as if that’s all she could dare to touch for fear of being rejected, I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulder. We cling to each other for a long, silent time, and I think she might be crying.

I’m a little misty-eyed too.

Eventually she pulls away first, sliding her fingers under each eye to catch any stray tears, a watery laugh leaving her. My mother has never been an overly emotional person. “Why did he give you a Keith Haring camera? I’m curious.”

“I went to his family’s apartment yesterday,” I admit. “And I was admiring the Keith Haring painting they have.”

“Two Dancing Dogs?” she asks.

I nod, not surprised she’d know which one it was. “It’s beautiful. I told him I liked it. And he sends me this.”

I hold up the camera.

“How sweet.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Young love. First love. Enjoy it, darling. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Oh, I don’t think he loves me,” I’m quick to say. “It hasn’t been very long…whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“Modern love.” Another sigh leaves her and she slowly shakes her head. “This is where I admit I feel old and don’t understand the ways of teenagers anymore.”

“I don’t think we’re that different from when you were a teen,” I say.

“There are a few differences. Social media, for one.” She stands and starts heading for the door. “You can go back to sleep now. I was just curious over what he sent you today.”

Mom shuts the door behind her and I flop back onto the bed, reaching for my phone so I can send Crew a text.

Me: Got your gift. I love it. Thank you.

He responds almost immediately.

Crew: You’re welcome. Want to come over for a photo sesh?

I’m smiling so wide it hurts.

Me: I’m surprised you’re awake.

Crew: My brother called me at seven. Such an asshole.

Me: What did he want?

Crew: He’s been helping me out with something.

Me: ???

Crew: Can’t explain it over text. I’ll tell you later.

Crew: Did you like the camera?

Me: I LOVED IT. A Keith Haring camera? So awesome.

Crew: This way you don’t have to risk saving the images on your phone. In case your dad figures out your password.

Me: No one will figure out my password. Not even you.

Crew: What about the lipstick?

I drop my phone and grab the lipstick, slicking it on my lips and using my phone as a mirror. I take a selfie and send it to him.

Crew: Hot.

Me: Not too pink?

Crew: On you? It’s perfect. Come over.

Me: Right now?

Crew: We’re both awake. No one is at my house. Get your pretty ass over here.

I should not find it attractive that he says things like that, yet here I am.

Enjoying it.

Me: I need to get ready first.

Crew: I’ll send a car over.

Me: Peter?

Crew: Yeah. He’s a good dude. Knows how to keep a secret.

His words make my stomach sink. Is that all I am to him? A secret?

Does a boy buy you gifts and indulge you in your weird urges to cover his body in lipstick kisses think of you as a secret? I don’t know.

I can’t worry about it.

Me: I’ll text you when I’m ready.

Crew: I’ll keep Peter on standby. Don’t forget the camera and the pink lipstick.

I drop my phone onto my nightstand and crawl out of bed, heading for my walk-in closet. I don’t know what to wear today. Definitely not a dress, though that had been fun. And cold.

Especially when I went home last night. I was freezing by the time I walked into our apartment. The look on my father’s face was one of utter disappointment as he watched me take off my jacket, revealing my outfit.

I don’t know what Mom said to him to keep him quiet, but I’m grateful for it.

I quickly dress in jeans and a sweater, pulling my hair back into a high ponytail. I slip on my lug sole boots and exit my bedroom to find my father standing in the hall. His hands are in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the painting hanging on the wall. He glances over at me, his expression flat.