In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,103
of the blanket with freshly manicured nails.
“I saw what happened to Abigail Fanning, and I … I don’t want that to be me.” Isabella turns to look at me with this sharp fear in her eyes that makes her look less like Harper and more like a terrified kid in need of guidance. “Everyone wants in the Infinity Club. It’s like … you’re nobody and nothing if you’re not a member.” She looks down at her shoe, a red-bottomed Louboutin she’s casually rubbing around in the grass even though it costs a fortune. “Dad wants me to join, but … I don’t know if I will, at least not yet.”
I nod, and we sit there in silence again together for a while.
“Why did you tell me that Tristan was screwing Lizzie, when he wasn’t?”
Isabella shrugs and keeps her gaze focused on anything and everything but me.
“You love him. I wanted to hurt you. I … don’t want to be a Reed. I’m a Carmichael, Marnye. I’m a fucking Carmichael, and I always will be. I don’t care who my biological father really is.”
“So you took your anger out on me?” I raise an eyebrow and Isabella shrugs, pushing up to her feet and brushing grass from her bare legs.
“I think you’re an easy target because you try so hard at everything that you make other people feel like shit. Queen of the school, top of the class, dating all the hottest, richest guys. You’re pretty …” Isabella trails off, and I fight the urge to smile. She called me pretty. My little sister just called me pretty. Now if that’s not a win, I don’t know what is. “Anyway, please don’t … say anything to my dad when you meet him.”
“I would never do that,” I promise, and she nods, looking up at the house. I want more than anything for her to come in and see Charlie, but I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid to hear her say no because then I might hate her forever, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s a spoiled, rotten little brat, but I’m good at injecting a little humility into those types. If I did it with the boys, I can do it with her, too. “Do you think I could at least come in and give him a hug?” she asks finally, and I smile.
We head into the house together, and wait on the couch until Charlie gets up and his aide wheels him down the hallway to get some water. When he sees us together, his face lights up.
“Girls,” he says, his smile so wide it crinkles up his face. I swear there’s a silent my right before that word he won’t let himself say. I get us all situated on the back porch with lemonade, and Isabella and Charlie actually chat together. Apparently they’re both fans of James Bond and Indiana Jones.
“My D—” she starts and then clears her throat. “Adam has a lot of original movie memorabilia. You should come see it sometime. He likes to show it off to anyone that will listen to him brag.” Sounds about right, I think as I hold Charlie’s hand.
“I’d love to,” he tells her with the softest sort of smile, and then later, when she gets up to leave, she bends down to give him a hug, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
After Isabella drives off, I get that book Charlie started in Napa, and I open it so we can read together.
“I already saw you peek at the end, you know,” I tell him after we finish, and I close the cover. He looks up at the clouds moving across a blue, blue sky and then smiles wistfully to himself.
“True. But it’s not always the ending that’s the most important. Sometimes, the journey to get there is just as good.”
A few nights later, I call Zayd.
I don’t know why.
I just pick one of the boys at random and dial.
He comes over right away, inching his blue Jaguar convertible up to the curb, and I hop in. I don’t really like leaving Dad alone, but his health aide is here, and I … I just need a minute.
“Sometimes, when someone else is dying, it’s harder on everyone around them than it is for them.” He curls his inked hands around the steering wheel and drives slowly, so that the night wind teases our hair, but doesn’t steal away our conversation.