her acrylic nails scraped along the back of my hand. “There are a lot of young girls out there who would take advantage of you for one thing and one thing only. They see dollar signs in your eyes—”
“Not Shelby,” I choked.
“That’s what you said about that other girl,” Dad muttered under his breath, his nose buried deep in the menu again.
Mom shot him a look before turning her attention back to me. “Then why didn’t she tell you? Why didn’t she tell you of this job? Of her real home? The fact that her mother was also a waitress at some dreadful little diner—”
Oh God. Was her mom ever a ballerina? Or was it all a lie? I pushed out of my chair, nearly knocking it back. “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”
I ran out of the restaurant, and the night air was humid and sticky. It pushed down on me, oppressive like my fucking life. Inside, my parents were still at their table by the window. A new waitress showed them a bottle of wine. Did they even care that my heart was fucking shattered? Did they give a shit that their only son just ran out of the restaurant? I swallowed, and it tasted like bitterness and anger. Would they toast to a job well done with that seventy-five dollar Chianti? Toast to the successful breakup of their little boy and the woman he loved.
“Tate.” I looked up to find Shelby running down the stairs toward me. “Tate, I was trying to tell you—it’s what I needed to talk to you about. I swear, I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was about to mention it the other night, too, and you cut me off. And it just—I didn’t think it really mattered that much—”
“What about North Charleston? That playground? Did that never come up, either?”
Confusion crumpled her beautiful face, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to run from her or grab her and kiss her. “What? What are you talking abou—”
“Why would you lie about that? You think I really care that you grew up in a trailer park? You think that would affect how I saw you?”
“No. Tate, no. Those are terrible memories for me. I hate talking about it with anyone. It took me years to even tell Reagan—”
“You lied. You lied to me, Shelby. What the fuck? Even after I told you about Katie and how—” My voice rose, and even though I was yelling and I knew I shouldn’t be, I couldn’t help it. I cut myself off.
She shook her head, tears springing from her eyes. “I didn’t. I didn’t lie to you. It was just a misunderstanding, Tate.”
“I can’t do this right now.” I backed away, moving in the direction of the apartment complex. “I need some time to think.”
“What are you going to do? Walk home? It’s like twenty blocks.”
That was exactly what I was going to do. It was just what I needed.
“Tate. Stop. Please. Talk to me. I lov—” Her sob choked the words, stopping them before she finished. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling moisture slide down my cheeks. No. I can’t be in love with a liar. Not again.
I would not end up with another Katie.
And I would not end up like my parents.
Chapter Thirty
SHELBY
There was a pounding on my door that echoed in my head. I crawled out of bed with a glance at the clock. Ten thirty on a Friday night. Who the hell was that?
I opened the door just in time before Reagan nearly broke the damn thing down. She still had full stage makeup on, fake eyelashes and all, but she was in a teeny skirt and low cut tank top.
She looked me up and down, and her aggressive demeanor shifted immediately. “Oh, Shelby. Have you been in bed all day?”
I sniffed, rubbing my swollen eyes, and shook my head. “No…I went to class.”
“Please tell me you put on pants.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” Sweatpants counted, right?
“What about the tutoring center?”
I swallowed and let my silence answer the question for me. I’d called in on every day that Tate would normally be there. Ryan seemed to be okay with that, and to be honest, the days I did show up, I didn’t exactly look healthy.
Reagan sighed, dropping her duffel bag on my futon. I had already given her the whole story, and we had played it out together time and time again over pints of