Page 22 of Oblivion

Now it feels like he’s spent all this time wooing me, and I had no idea. But even when I told him I’d enjoyed dating while I was away at school, he never acted like a crazed, jealous fool. Instead, Drew just waited for me to figure out what his intentions toward me meant.

He waited while he ate dinner with my parents. He waited while I worked alongside him at his father’s office. He waited while we spent time together as friends. He waited and waited and waited while I remembered how easy being with him is. While I remembered what a life with him would look like.

Starling and Sebastian might have this grand, life-altering love affair, but nothing about them is easy. Clay and January might have had an arranged match that turned into love, but nothing about them is simple, and Hunter and Bunny might have fought their way through lies and manipulation to realize that they love each other more than they hate each other, but nothing about them is peaceful.

Being with Drew is easy, simple, and peaceful, and although it might not be the love of a lifetime, there’s a lot to be said for just being contentedly in love. And I do love him.

When my dad had his heart attack, all of my friends tried to come here to be with me, but I said no. Dealing with my dad almost dying was hard enough, but explaining all of my lies to Mama was just more than I could handle. But I wasn’t alone because Drew stayed with me. He held my hand, dried my tears, and offered to pray for my dad’s recovery. His parents brought food to the hospital. His mom coaxed my mom to go home to sleep and take care of herself. His dad stepped in and made sure everyone at my dad’s business knew what was happening so it kept running. Drew sat with my dad and me for hours on end until we knew he was going to be okay, and then afterward, his family and mine all communally breathed a sigh of relief that the worst of our ordeal had passed.

Drew might not be exciting or intense or crazy, but he loves me, and even though our life together won’t necessarily be what I envisioned my future to look like, at least I understand my place in it.

So why now, when I’m finally moving on, moving forward with a life that makes sense to me, do I suddenly have Evan’s initials on a chain on my ankle?

And why does it feel like this tiny chain that I’m going to have to cut off to remove is a war cry and a warning all at once?

Ignoring the anklet, I lift up my hand and stare at the beautiful, classic, predictable diamond on my finger. I’m engaged to Drew. I love Drew. Marrying him, moving to Harvard, and planning a future together is my choice.

Inhaling sharply, I get dressed, dry and style my hair, and put on some makeup before I go downstairs. Unlike when I was living at school, leaving my bedroom without being ready to face the day is a huge no-no in my mama’s house.

I’ve never seen her without a full face of makeup and her hair perfectly styled in her classic bob cut with her pearls around her neck. Looking put together is just who my mama is.

Even though I know Mama won’t approve, I’m wearing skinny jeans, a fitted button-down with a knit sweater over the top, and my knee-high, tan leather boots. Not only do I look classic and cute, but the jeans, socks, and boots I’m wearing all cover the anklet that feels like it weighs a ton, even though the chain is so fine I can’t feel it all.

“Good morning, honeybee,” Mama calls when I step into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mama.”

“I made blueberry scones, and there’s fresh coffee in the pot,” she says, her smile dimming a little as she takes in my jeans.

“Thanks,” I say, putting a scone on a plate and pouring myself a drink. “Does your coffee need freshening up?” I ask.

“No, thank you. Jeans? Really, Samantha. You have such a beautiful figure. A more feminine silhouette would be much more flattering on you.”

“Mama, it’s cold, and I like these jeans,” I tell her, keeping my tone neutral.

“What time is Drew coming around today? I thought we could start talking about wedding plans.”

“He’s away for a few days with his fraternity. And I’m sure you already know that he wants to wait until after we’veboth graduated before we get married,” I say, taking the chair opposite hers at the kitchen table.

Huffing, she purses her lips and brings her coffee up to take a sip. “I don’t understand why you can’t have the wedding at Easter. A spring service would be beautiful, and both Martha and I agree that we’re excited to be grandmas as soon as possible.”

“Mama,” I chide, warningly.

“Don’t you Mama, me. Four babies in four years are going to take their toll on your body. You’re only young for so long, Samantha, and the sooner you get started, the sooner you can get camera-ready for when Drew runs for office. No one wants to see a chubby politician’s wife. If you can’t take care of yourself, how can you take care of your constituents?”

“Who on earth said four babies in four years?” I gasp.

“Why Drew, of course. Grant and John, then Elizabeth and Martha.”

I choke on my mouthful of coffee, grabbing a napkin so I don’t spit it all over the table and my crazy mama. “You can’t just pick out names for our children. That’ll be mine and Drew’s decision.”

“Really, Samantha, I didn’t pick the names. Martha said Drew told her when they got home last night that you’d both agreed the boys will be Grant and John after your daddies, then the girls will be Elizabeth and Martha after your mamas. I was so touched when she told me this morning that I cried, and even your daddy had a tear in his eye.”

The chain around my ankle suddenly feels like it starts to heat, and I cross and uncross my legs uncomfortably. “Mama, we both still have three years left at school. I don’t think you should be thinking about grandbabies any time soon.”

“Fine. But I still think we should start planning the wedding. Good venues book out years in advance, so this morning, Ibooked us a tour of Wilshore Mansion. Then tomorrow we’re going to the Woodville Hotel. Martha has a couple of other venues she thinks you’ll both like too, but these two are our favorites. So, hurry up and finish your scone. We’re picking Martha up in an hour.”

After choking down my scone and coffee, I rush from the kitchen, feeling like my ankle is on fire. I don’t know what this anklet with Evan’s initials on it means, but my stomach is bubbling with guilt, and I don’t know if I feel guilty that a guy other than my fiancé was in my bedroom, touching me while I was asleep, or if my guilt is because, despite my feelings for Evan, I agreed to marry another man.

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