Page 4 of The Boy I Hate

“He won’t miss the wedding. Don’t worryaboutthat!”

“You think I’m worried about thewedding?”

“Renee, this isabig—”

“Does this mean you’redrivingherealone?”

Samantha looked up to the ceiling, trying not to let the tone in Renee’s voice make her emotional again. “I’llbefine—”

“When did thishappen?”

Samantha shrugged. “Tonight.”

“Tonight? You mean he gave you two days’notice?”

“Yes,but—”

“Sam! I’m pissed for you! Who does that? Who cancels two days before a three thousand mile road trip? I can’t believe he’s being such a dick—and I also can’t believe you’re going totakeit!”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “He’s not a dick, Ren. This internship is a big deal. He’s been working on it for twelve months. If he passes on this now, he’ll never get itagain.”

“There are otherfirms.”

“Not like Connor andAssociates.”

“So?”

“He’ll be at the wedding; that’s the important part,right?”

“It’s just… He always does thistoyou.”

A dull ache began to pound behind Samantha’s eyes, and she pinched her brow trying to ease it. “No hedoesn’t.”

“Yes. He does.Rememberprom?”

She threw herself back on the mattress, unable to believe Renee was bringing this up again. “Prom was fiveyearsago.”

“You’re right. But Bali was justlastyear.”

Samantha closed her eyes, because until this moment, Renee had never said anything at all about the long-lost trip. It had been Samantha’s graduating wish all throughout college, her dream for as long as she could remember. But somehow Steven had convinced her it was frivolous. That it was a waste, not only of money, but of precious corporate ladder climbing time. They ended up in some stuffy hotel in Los Angeles, sipping flat, generic “champagne” and rubbing elbows with pretentious people who could “take themplaces.”

“He always puts his job ahead of you; that’s what I’m saying. It’s just the same shit. Him putting his life aboveyours.”

“I don’t see itthatway.”

“And I thought he was going topropose?”

Samantha stared up at the ceiling, wild cattle taking over her heart again. “That was your theory, not mine.” She rose to her feet, walked toward the window, and pulled in a calming breath. “Honestly, I’m glad I’m driving alone. I could use some time tothink.”

Renee paused a moment, silent in a way that told Samantha she was worried. “Aboutwhat?”

“I don’t know. Life. Career choices.” Sam brushed aside the curtains and pulled the double-paned window firmly shut. “Maybe mom wasright.”

“Sam, it was your first gallery, you can’texpect—”

“Expect what? To sell something, after five years oftrying?”

“Look, I don’t want to fight you on this, but driving across country to figure out your life is crazy. We’re talking three thousand miles. And my beautiful blond girlfriend who always seems to attract the creepiest of men when outalone.”

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