Page 62 of Roses in Summer

I smile at my sister’s retort, biting my lip as my fingers fly over the screen.

Seraphina: Respect your elders. I’ll see you at home.

Swiping up from the thread, I pull up the Uber app to see my driver’s progress. Based on the tracker, it seems he’s less than a minute away, and I pick up my pace, power walking in heels and a short dress as though it’s a common occurrence.

“Just a few more feet to the exit,” I murmur, keeping my eyes peeled on the heavy glass door lined with security and bouncers. “Thank God. Where’s Gerard?” I ask myself once I step outside and see the long line of taxis, town cars, and vehicles with various rideshare stickers. Scanning them, I find a black Ford Focus and approach, relief hitting me when I see a green-and-black Uber decal on the front window. “Gerard?”

The driver looks up from his phone and regards me. “Are you Seraphina?” Nodding in confirmation, I slide in the back seat as soon as he unlocks the doors and shut my eyes once he pulls into traffic. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to speak, doesn’t attempt pleasantries or small talk, and lets me stew in silence.

My phone vibrates in my hand, alerting me to an incoming text. I look down and see Bianca’s name on my screen, with messages continuing to come through. Pulling my brows together, worry ignites in my stomach that something happened. Tapping on the messages, I feel my face transform from a frown to a scowl.

Bianca: Don’t hate me.

Bianca: Remember, I’m your favorite sibling.

Bianca: But I may have given someone your number.

Bianca: And he may be texting you.

Bianca: And remember, I’m your favorite sibling.

“Bianca, what did you do?” I mumble, gripping my phone tightly.

“What was that?” Gerard asks from the front seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

Shaking my head, I mumble, “Nothing, sorry,” and reread my sister’s messages. I don’t have to guess to whom she gave my number—that much is obvious. Grimace firmly in place, it doesn’t take long for a text message to come through from a number I shamefully know by heart, even if I did delete it as a contact when I switched my phone number.

Lincoln: Are you okay, ciern? We need to talk.

Biting down on my lip, I read and reread his text as though there’s something else I can latch onto in the message. But there’s not; his words are simple and direct. They leave no room for misunderstanding or confusion. Sighing, I type out a reply.

Seraphina: I’m fine.

I ignore the second part of his text altogether. I’m not sure if I’m choosing avoidance or feigning ignorance.

Lincoln: We’ll talk about it at your parents’.

My thumbs fly quickly over the screen, typing out a text questioning what the hell he’s talking about.

Seraphina: What are you talking about?

Lincoln: Ava didn’t tell you? What a shame. See you soon, ciern.

24

Seraphina

“Remember, you promised you wouldn’t leave my side tonight. You swore an oath, one that is nonnegotiable, okay? Olivia, I need to hear you confirm this.”

I don’t need to look at my best friend to know that she’s rolling her eyes at me. “Yes, I remember.”

“You’d think you’re walking into an ambush, Ser,” Bianca says from behind me.

Refusing to look at her, I scoff. “I almost was. I’m not sure I should thank you or kill you for giving Lincoln my new number.”

“Thank me, probably. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have no idea Ava invited everyone and their mother.”

“Shut up, B.”

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