Page 70 of Bachelor
“I don’t need your help. I need you to leave me alone and to stop letting other students get into your head and make you believe that anything is going on between Whitney and a faculty member. Good night.”
I turned and pushed open the gate, letting it slam shut behind me. All around me the snow was starting to melt, leaving frigid puddles of muddy, half-frozen water along the cobblestone path weaving between the cottages and townhomes.
I didn’t breathe until I reached my cottage and threw open the door, closing myself inside.
Cassandra was right. I hadn’t given any thought to this situation following us after Gatlington. Would her parents really try to intervene in their adult daughter’s life?
I already knew the answer.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Whitney
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ISTOOD OUTSIDE THEinconspicuous diner on the edge of Gatlington proper. I’d never been here before. It was just out of the way of the downtown drag, tucked between two old brick buildings with a yellow awning dripping with melting snow. Inside the frosted front windows, I could see several customers sitting at the bar, and a few blurred figures sat in booths drinking coffee.
I hugged myself tighter, frigid rain sliding down my shoulders. Over the past week the weather had started to shift, turning from biting cold and snow to wet, chilly rain. Ice coated the roads and bike trails, and every morning a thick fog rolled in and hung over campus, casting the entire place in eerie silver silence.
But here, the glow from inside the diner lit up the street on an especially overcast day.
The day I told my dad I could meet him for lunch.
I hadn’t seen him since last summer. I was used to that kind of separation after four and half years of college under my belt, and several years spent at a boarding school in Switzerland before attending a private high school in New York City.
It wasn’t the physical separation that dragged me down as much as the fact I hadn’t spoken to either of my parents in what felt like a lifetime, and the last time I’d heard my mother’s voice she’d been absolutely livid with me for breaking up with Christian.
I knew Dad likely backed her up. He was probably just as angry about it. He loved Christian, saw him as a son, likely imagined him sitting in his boardroom one day in a suit and tie while knowing his precious daughter was safe in a mansion somewhere.
Now I stood in the rain debating whether or not I even wanted to have whatever conversation would take place. I was sick of defending myself. I was sick and tired of trying to prove I was worthy of the future I wanted for myself.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before walking into the diner, greeted by a little chiming above the door.
No one even looked in my direction. I scanned the room but didn’t see my dad. I was early. Ten minutes earlier to be exact. If I hadn’t left my apartment when I finally mustered the courage, I wouldn’t have gone. I spent the next minutes walking and debating and talking myself into actually doing this.
What was I so afraid of?
