Last Year's Mistake - Gina Ciocca Page 0,46

‘the whole world.’ ” When seconds ticked by without a response, I added, “Maybe Violet’s hinting that she’d like to meet her.”

“My mother moved to Puerto Rico with her boyfriend.”

“Puerto Rico? When?”

“Right after my grandfather died.” He snorted. “Probably when she realized she had no way to stake a claim on his house.” Sitting up straighter, he finally looked at me. “It’s all good, though. I’m used to people walking out of my life.”

I gripped the edge of the desk and my teeth ground together. “You can work with someone else if you can think of a good enough reason,” I offered coolly. “So if you want to fake an anaphylactic reaction to my perfume or something . . .”

David leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, arrogance oozing from every pore. “Now, why would I want to do that when I can think of one or two questions I’d like you to answer?”

I dropped my pen onto my notebook and sat up straighter. Two could play this game. “Know what? Me too. Starting with this one.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Why would you try to hurt Ryan?”

David snorted. “Ask him.”

“Don’t you think I have? I can understand why you’d clam up—you attacked him. But why won’t he talk to me?”

“Maybe he has something to hide.” The flippant shrug that accompanied the comment made me want to jab him in the eye with my pen.

“Or maybe you do.” I leaned back in my chair, mimicking his overconfidence. “The David I knew never would have done something like that without a reason. But you said it yourself. Things change.”

That seemed to get him appropriately riled. His eyebrows pulled together and his jaw muscle twitched. “You do know me, Kelse. Probably better than anyone. Did you ever stop to think it’s him you don’t know so well?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That he’s not the great guy you think he is.”

My fingers curled around my pen and squeezed. I wanted to snap it in half. And pretend it was David’s neck.

“If you’re going to make a statement like that, I suggest you back it up.”

We glared at each other for a pointed second before David gave me an equally pointed answer. “Next question.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m giving you the chance to clear your name, and you’re going to blow it?”

The corners of his lips turned down. “Like you’ve never blown your chance at anything?”

I’d walked right into that. I shook my head and stared at my notebook, trying to find something to analyze on the blank page so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t think this is the time or place for that.”

“Why not?” The exaggerated nonchalance returned. “Question number seven.” He jerked his head in the direction of the board, where I scanned for question number seven.

Apparently, Mr. Ingles and the universe shared the same sense of humor.

“Describe your ideal romantic relationship. Tragedy? Comedy? Fantasy? Explain.”

So much for not getting too personal.

I knew my mother had been right when she said I owed David more than a sort of explanation for the way our relationship had ended. And despite his holier-than-thou attitude—no, because of it—I knew he wanted me to do better than sort of as well. But I’d been right about something too. English class wasn’t the time or place.

“David, listen. You have Violet now, and I have Ryan. We’re both happy. That’s all that matters, right?”

“You really don’t miss Norwood at all, do you?”

“Where did that come from?” I sputtered.

David shrugged. “Just answer it.”

“I miss certain things about it.”

“Like what?”

I looked at my desk, knowing I couldn’t say the first things that came to my mind: Cutting through the woods to your house. Dinner with you and your dad. Blasting music in your clunky old car and singing at the top of our lungs. So I said, “I miss riding my bike around my old neighborhood. I miss my dad being around on the weekends instead of going off to promote his book. And I miss going down to Pennyfield Beach, and parking a mile away and walking past all those old, beautiful houses just so I wouldn’t have to pay to get in.”

I smiled to myself. I did miss those things.

“Do you still talk to anyone from home?” he asked.

“Do you?” I folded my arms, well aware of how defensive this topic made me.

“Of course. It hasn’t been that long since I left. Why wouldn’t I?” His eyes leveled with mine,