people who’d be thrilled to have your job. Who I could pay a whole hell of a lot less because Uriah doesn’t have some irrational sense of guilt toward them.”
That’s a slap in the face. I pride myself on making my own way, but they don’t pay me like they do because I work hard. My paycheck is about Uriah’s guilt. It shouldn’t hurt—shouldn’t matter—but it does.
“I’m not fighting with you, Gwen.” What could I say anyway? That I deserve that check? I’m not sure it’s true. That I haven’t been sleeping with Arrow? At this point, everyone seems to know I have.
“I am,” Arrow says. “She’s the best fucking nanny you’re going to find around here. She does everything for you and she loves Katie. What are you—”
Gwen holds up a hand. “Get out of my face. This is about my baby. This is about my baby’s life.”
“Are you sure?” Arrow asks. “Because it sounds like it’s about your petty jealousy over a woman who hasn’t lived in this city for almost six years.”
I still at Arrow’s words. He’s defending me. I don’t want to compare him to a dead man—it’s not right, and it’s not fair—but Brogan always found a way around defending me to his mother.
“I’ve had enough,” Gwen says. “Mia, you are out of here.” She turns on her three-inch heels and leaves the room.
Arrow opens his mouth and goes to follow her, but I reach out and squeeze his wrist before he can say anything else. “Just let it go.”
His jaw works, but I know he won’t say any more because I’ve asked him not to.
I don’t have that much here. I don’t have much in general. I’ve never been the kind of person who was big on things, with a few exceptions.
I gather my belongings, fold my clothes, pack my suitcase, and slide my textbooks into my backpack. The last thing I get is my dancing fairies painting from the bottom drawer of the desk. I still remember the night he gave it to me. I was so touched by his thoughtfulness, and something else, too. My skin prickled, and it felt like all those little fairies were dancing up and down my arms, connecting me to Arrow with thousands of invisible currents. It wasn’t just that he remembered my story; it was that he understood how important it was to me.
“You still have that?” Arrow asks.
I skim my fingers over the painting’s textured surface, and those same chills come back. Will I ever meet anyone I feel as deeply tied to as him? “Of course. It makes me think about my mom. About the good times.” I lift my eyes to his and see all the questions there. I don’t know where we are. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go forward—how I’m supposed to live or breathe knowing that the man I love killed my brother and the man I . . . loved. “It makes me think of you, Arrow. It was the sweetest gift I’ve ever been given.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he says softly. His eyes are so sad, and I draw in a sharp breath because I’ve somehow forgotten. Living here, working here, I got to see Arrow all the time. It was so easy to forget that he was on house arrest. But if I don’t have an excuse to be here, when will I see him? Nights sleeping in his arms will be a thing of the past. Talking to him in the darkness an old luxury.
I force a smile. “It’s for the best. I’ll be okay.”
“Mia—”
“I’ll be okay. Bailey will take me back, at least temporarily, and I’ll find another job. It’s not like I’ll be living on the streets.” Avoiding his gaze, I zip up my suitcase and do one last look around the bedroom to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I feel Arrow’s gaze on me with every move I make. “I think that’s everything.”
“I’ll help you load up your car.”
Arrow
I lift the suitcase into the trunk and close it. Mia’s hands are tucked into the pockets of her jean shorts and her eyes are cast down to the ground. Yesterday’s rain is gone, and the sun brings out the light brown highlights in her hair.
“You can do better than this job, Mia.” I can tell from the look on her face that her employment status is the least of her problems. That today, any worries of whether or not