Shackled Lily Page 11

  The soft chime from Grant’s phone woke me up before he could move to silence it, and I stretched across Jake’s bed not wanting to move. It felt as though only minutes had passed since Jake and I finished our long conversation last night, but the lack of sleep was worth it. We hadn’t been that open and honest with each other since my aunt Kathy died, and it felt good to have our friendship back, even if just for a night.

  I tip toed down the stairs when I heard Grant shut the bathroom door and tried to stop the anxiety that hit when I saw his black shirt lying over the side of the couch. Last night had been horrible, and I just wanted to pretend it never happened. I heard the shower turn on and started rummaging through Jake’s kitchen for the ingredients to go in my hangover juice. Maybe Grant would take it as a peace offering.

  While Jake was normally good about keeping my green leafs on hand, his refrigerator definitely showed signs that he had been alone for the past couple of weeks. Oh well, there was enough in there for me to throw something together that might at least take the edge off the headache I knew Grant would have.

  Once his drink was tucked safely in the fridge, I busied myself by getting as ready as I could without a bathroom. I propped my portable vanity mirror up on the bar and tried to make my face look as fresh and well rested as possible. We had to be at breakfast in two hours, and I knew my father would be looking for any excuse to pull me from Winsor permanently. My father didn’t agree to let me go on this little road trip because he cared; it was a test, and we both knew it. I braided my hair loosely so I wouldn’t have to deal with the tangles and quickly threw on some comfy jeans and a t-shirt before Grant finished up.

  By the time he emerged from the bathroom, letting the steam from the shower escape into the hall, I was completely ready to go and had my bag waiting by the door. He seemed hesitant as he approached me and refused to make eye contact.

  “I made you some hangover juice,” I offered, setting the drink on the counter. “It’s not full strength, thanks to Jake’s bare kitchen, but it’s enough to take the edge off. I doubt my father will even notice.”

  Grant just nodded and continued to stuff his old clothes into the duffle bag he brought. He was back in work mode, complete with the stiff khaki’s and button up shirt I’d come to expect on him. His tie lay around his neck untied and his feet were bare, but other than that, it was as if the person from last night never existed.

  I felt like we had gone backwards, existing again without interacting, and my body screamed at me to fight it. I knew I should say something significant to him, but I couldn’t find the words, so I just lightly stepped across the space between us and reached around his neck to grab the tie. His body stiffened under my touch, but he didn’t stop me as I quietly lifted his collar and tied a perfect knot in the silk material. I moved it in place and then ran my fingers along his neck as I lowered the collar back down.

  I hesitantly looked up at him through my eyelashes. We stared at each other without speaking, mine a look of expectation, his a look of confusion, but at least it was a connection. With an apologetic smile, I backed away and took my turn in the bathroom, hoping the entire time that Grant and I could somehow find some middle ground with each other. I knew I couldn’t give him everything he wanted, but I also knew I wanted us to have something. I just didn’t know what that looked like.

  Grant was gone when I finished in the bathroom, no doubt to pick up his car from the Varsity parking lot, and I took the opportunity to run upstairs and say goodbye to Jake. He was passed out cold on the floor next to the bed, and I wondered where he got the ability to sleep in any position.

  “Jake,” I whispered gently in his ear. “I’ve got to go.”

  His response was a soft grunt.

  I chuckled and then whispered at him again. “Don’t forget to live.”

  His response this time was a thumbs up and I kissed his cheek before heading back downstairs and out the door. Grant had just pulled up with the car and stopped in front of me, lining the car up to where I was facing the back seat. That maneuver said it all, but I sat in the front seat anyway. He glanced my way when I shut the door and shook his head as if to say he couldn’t figure me out.

  Finally after ten excruciating minutes, Grant let out his signature sigh and started talking. “I want to apologize for last night. There is no excuse for how I acted.”

  I waved off his apology. “Grant, you weren’t that bad.”

  “Yes, I was. I got angry and then just started making one poor choice after another. I’m supposed to set an example—look different from the rest of the world. Instead, I fell right into old patterns as if my life hadn’t been completely changed.” The silence lingered again until Grant continued, “Issy, I think I’ve had this idea of us in my head for so long now that I started to believe I could want it enough for both of us. What last night showed me is that you’re simply not ready, at least not ready to give me the only version of yourself I’m willing to accept. I don’t know, you may never be ready, and I guess I’ll just have to come to terms with that.”

  I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing until Grant quit talking, and I absorbed how defeated he sounded. I wanted to tell him he was right and I was terrified, but instead I just nodded silently.

  “You know, before you decided to hate me, we were actually pretty good friends. Do you think maybe we could find our way back to that point and get past all this awkwardness?”

  I turned to face him, offering my most genuine smile. I even truly meant it when I said, “Yes, I’d really like that.”

  Our talk did a lot to diffuse the tension between us, and I even noticed Grant relaxing as he teased me about how disgusting my green smoothie was.

  “I told you it was a modified version,” I yelled, feigning hurt. “People come from miles around for that concoction, and you got it without even asking. You should feel honored.”

  He shot me a smile that sent waves of excitement through my body. “I do, Issy. And you don’t tie a bad knot either.” I felt myself blush and couldn’t believe it. It was like I was thirteen all over again.

  My dad seemed completely surprised when I was already seated at the breakfast table when he walked in the room. He didn’t say a word, but nodded in recognition.

  “Anna and Junior are out this morning, so it will just be you and me,” he said as Rosa came by to fill our coffee cups. I tried not to feel nervous, but I was sure my dad would try and trap me into saying something incriminating about the trip.

  “She’s gone a lot lately. Trouble in paradise?” I asked sweetly, trying to keep the conversation off of me.

  My dad scowled at me and began cutting his omelet. “So, don’t you have a business marketing class today?” he asked between bites.

  “Um, yes?” I answered, completely unsure because I had skipped the class on Tuesday.

  “You didn’t go to class on Tuesday, did you?” His voice was getting the commanding tone he used when talking on the phone to his employees.

  “It was just the first day. All they go over is the syllabus the first week anyway. It’s not a big deal,” I said defensively.

  “It is a big deal because that is an important class. Probably the most important one you have this semester.” He set down his fork as he spoke and took a second to really look at me, his eyes getting wide when he noticed my outfit. “Please tell me you are not going in that. You look like you’re twelve.”

  I smirked up at him. “Seriously Daddy, when have you ever seen me leave this house without looking fabulous?”

  He grinned back and continued eating again. I couldn’t figure out why he all of the sudden cared so much about my school. He’d never before taken any interest except to bug me periodically about choosing a major. Another control thing, I realized. Now that I was in business classes, he cared…figured.

  I finished eating and then excused myself to get ready. The silver in my hair washed out in the shower, but I liked the look so much, I recreated it. I found a wide-n
ecked sweater dress that fell just off the shoulder, and paired it with some leggings and ankle boots. The addition of my wide rhinestone belt placed right at the hip made me look magazine worthy, and I smiled at the final product. I certainly did not look twelve in this outfit.

  I could hear my father and Grant in a heated discussion when I walked down the stairs, and despite my need to get to class, I couldn’t help but stand by the door and listen.

  “Grant, I know I told you I’d give you your shot, but it’s just not the right timing now. All our focus is on the merger,” I heard my father say dismissively.

  “Sir, I understand that, but we can work this outside of the merger. What I designed is brand new technology; I just need the startup funds to test run it for our clients. I promise you it will revolutionize the software division. If we wait too long, the market is going to catch up.” I could hear the pleading tone in Grant’s voice and felt my stomach knot a little for him.

  “We are not discussing this further. Robert Marsh and Stone Electric are all I want you to think about. It is our only priority.”

  I quickly moved away from the door and slipped out of the house. I knew the conversation was over the minute I heard the tone in my father’s voice. I felt my heart ache a little for Grant. He’d waited seven years for this shot, and my dad dismissed it without a second thought. Anyone else, I would have felt a little satisfaction in being right, but with Grant, I wished I hadn’t been.

  I pushed the thoughts away as I drove. I was getting too soft with him, and it was irritating me. I found the female power anthems on my playlist and sang the rest of the way to school. It did its job because I almost felt invincible when I walked into my marketing classroom. I stood at the door like I normally did and glanced around for a safe spot. The chairs were all organized into sections of eight and I noticed students conversing and moving around as if seating had already been assigned. The professor was standing at the white board writing out instructions, so I quickly approached him to find out where I was supposed to sit.

  “Sir?” I asked to get his attention. He turned his irritated eyes toward me and waited. “I’m Issy Summers. I wasn’t feeling well on Tuesday and didn’t make it to class.”

  The middle-aged professor set down his marker and folded his arms as he continued to glare at me through round glasses. “Ms. Summers, groups have already been decided and work has already begun. I’m not going to force one of these teams to let you in on all their work. You will just have to do the assignment solo.”

  I couldn’t believe he was being so rude. Seriously, how much work could be done in two days? But just when I was ready to make my argument, I heard a sultry voice behind me tell the professor I could join his group.

  “Very well, but you will need to resubmit the group form with the change,” the professor snapped and turned back to finish writing on the board, completely dismissing me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see who my savior was, noticing immediately that he came from money. I had seen his outfit on display the last time I went to Neiman Marcus and knew the Rolex watch he was wearing was valued in the five digits.

  “I’m Robbie. You’re more than welcome to join us. We’ve got a pretty descent group.”

  “I’m Issy,” I replied appreciatively. “I think you are officially my savior.”

  Robbie cocked a half smile and pointed the way to our section, allowing me to move in front of him as he guided us there. Most of the group was already seated and seemed fine with me joining them. One of the girls seemed irritated by it, but I also noticed the way she looked at Robbie and figured it really had nothing to do with me.

  Robbie pulled out the seat next to him and offered it to me with a grin. I took it gladly and made a point to cross my legs toward him. There were definitely sparks between the two of us, and I enjoyed the feeling after such an intense week.

  The group work for the day consisted of choosing what product our marketing firm was going to represent. Each sheet held a list of constraints from the client along with public response, popularity, etc. Normally, I wouldn’t say anything because I really didn’t care, but for some reason, one of the products really jumped out at me. The group had almost unanimously gone with a new Pepsi product when I spoke up.

  “I know the Pepsi one seems like the easiest because it’s so well known, but I actually think we should consider the Mansfield product.”

  The girl who didn’t like me to begin with made a dramatic sigh and whined, “Taking an unknown product like that will be way too much work. Pepsi is easy money and an easy grade.”

  The others seemed to agree with her, but I didn’t relent. “But since we’re really not making money, we have to look at it practically. I really think he put this in there just to trap us. If you compare them, the Pepsi one has twenty-five constraints. That means we will basically have no flexibility throughout the entire project. The Mansfield one only has three. That allows us to do the branding and marketing any way we want to. To me, that would be way easier, because we could be creative. Not to mention, the public response to Mansfield was the best of all the products.”

  I noticed that the group suddenly started looking at the Mansfield product differently and discussing it, but it was Robbie who sealed the deal.

  “I think Issy’s right. We should do the Mansfield one,” he stated as if he was the president of our little company.

  Everyone else agreed, and we completed the required form, leaving us a good fifteen minutes to spare before the end of class. I pulled out my phone and started texting Candace to see what she was doing tonight. I was itching to go do something that wasn’t wrought with intensity and drama like the last two days had been. Not to mention, I really liked Candace. We would laugh non-stop when we were together, and she was becoming one of my favorite texting buddies.

  I felt Robbie move close to me and whisper in my ear. “So, you’re smart and beautiful.” It was a statement as if he already knew me, and I had surprised him.

  I turned to look closely at him, examining every line in his face to try and remember if we had met before. Nothing came to me, and I was sure I would have remembered him if we’d met. His face was too distinct to forget. It was wide with a defined chin, free of any afternoon stubble. His eyes were hazel and set wide apart giving him a very distinguished and aristocratic appearance.

  I responded as I usually did when men took notice of me and flashed him the smile that was casually aloof, but still inviting. “You seem surprised?”

  “I guess I’m just used to a certain type of woman,” he offered leaning into me.

  “And what type is that?”

  “Let’s just say that none have quite caught my attention like you have.” He smiled at me the way I was sure had women eating out of his hand on a regular basis.

  I turned away, feigning boredom. “Well, I don’t know, I may not want that kind of attention from you. I’m very picky.”

  Robbie started laughing, and I realized I liked the sound. It was full of a humor and confidence that very few men our age had. “I have no doubt you are.”

  The professor started talking, ending our bantering, but I felt Robbie’s eyes stay on me even when I had turned away from him. When class was over, I grabbed my bag and started for the door, only getting a few feet down the sidewalk before I noticed Robbie running after me.

  “So,” he said panting a little. “I’m done for the day, what about you?”

  “Maybe. Why are you asking?”

  “Well, I thought we could grab a bite to eat,” he offered. “My car is just right over there.”

  “Robbie, I make it a practice not to get into cars alone with boys I’ve known for only an hour or two.”

  He smiled and then draped his arm over my shoulder. I didn’t pull away. “Well, we are in luck then, because my driver makes the perfect chaperone. Come on, one lunch…how bad could it be?”

  I eyed him, trying to decide if I wanted to go. He was definitely charming, but I
had known many guys just like him in high school, and they bored me within a few minutes. Problem was, I really didn’t have anything else to do. The move to Western had definitely taken a hit to my social life.

  “Fine, but I’m choosing,” I agreed, and he responded by squeezing my arm.

  “You got it.”

  His car was literally parked at the end of the sidewalk, and I teased him a little for needing to be driven to class.

  “Commuter parking is a bear. Why bother when I can have door to door service?”

  “Spoken like every other spoiled rich guy I know. Come on, Robbie, I thought you were trying to impress me.” I was definitely flirting at this point and liked how I saw his eyes sparkle a little when I did so.

  Robbie opened the back door of the car for me. “Your chariot, my lady.”

  “Ah, at least he’s a gentleman,” I kidded running my finger softly along his hand as I climbed in the car.

  Robbie climbed in right behind me and asked, “Where to?”

  I gave him the name of my favorite sandwich shop that I knew was close to campus. His driver didn’t say a word or join us when we parked. It made me think of Grant and how he always tried to irritate me when we were in the car together. Robbie opened the door for me again at the restaurant, and I scolded myself internally for thinking about Grant once again when I was out with another guy.

  We found a table in the back and ordered. Robbie sat across from me at the table, and rarely looked away while we talked.

  “So Issy can’t really be your first name,” he stated after we got our drinks.

  “No. It’s short for my middle name, Isadora.”

  “Isadora. I like that. Does anyone ever call you that?”

  “Just my mom. She hates Issy…says its unsophisticated or something,” I explained with a shrug.

  “Does it bother you?”

  I wasn’t sure why the third degree on my name, but I answered anyway. “No, Isadora is fine. The only name I hate is my first name, and nobody ever calls me that except for my dad when he’s trying to get under my skin.”