“I’m going to go down for some hot chocolate.” Though I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach it right now. The craving making a mess of my insides was for sex, not sweets.
Mrs. Hale met me at the foot of the stairs. She’d probably been waiting there this whole time. She squeezed my arm and pulled me closer, threading her arm through mine as we walked into the kitchen. “Can I tell you something?”
I wasn’t very good with emotions and stuff, and I knew that was what was coming. Mrs. Hale was all about the emotions. “Um. Okay.”
“I’m worried about Kennedy. I don’t think he’s happy. He’s distant, and as anxious as we are to have him back home, I don’t think he’s ready to leave school.”
I reminded my feet to keep moving forward and trained my face into a mask of respectably detached concern. The truth was, I wanted to spill the beans to his mom. She’d understand why Kennedy needed to go after his dream, and she’d stand behind him even if—when—her husband threatened to disown his son.
“Do you think you can talk to him?” she asked. “Feel him out? See if there’s anything we can do or something we should know?”
I settled into a kitchen chair and watched her as she poured thick cream into a pan and placed it on the stove.
“I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me,” I objected.
She gathered sugar and cocoa from the cupboards. “Kennedy doesn’t talk to anyone, and you know how intense his dad can be. He’s all expectations, all the time. But I know if Kennedy is going to open up, it will be to you.” She shook her head and forced a smile. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about you. Are you still seeing that young man I met when I was in the city?”
“Ramey?” Had I seriously introduced my emo, nihilist ex to a woman sweeter than hot cocoa? “No, he’s not in the picture anymore.”
“Do you still love the city? Think you’ll stay?”
I swallowed. “Actually, I’m not going back to New York. After Winterfest, I’m moving to Paris with my mom.”
“Paris?” The word was a choked question from the other side of the kitchen.
We both turned to see Kennedy, his hands tucked into his flannel sleep pants.
“To live?” he asked.
“For college,” I said. “Mom wants me to live with her while I get my degree.” I wished he’d look angry or disappointed. Anything but that blank expression that revealed nothing.
He shouldn’t have found out this way.
“You must be so excited,” Mrs. Hale enthused. “Paris, the city of love. And you’ll get more time with your mom too. That’ll be nice.”
Paris. She was going to Paris. Was I supposed to be happy she was going to live with her mom and not just relocating to follow another guy in her string of losers? Instead, knowing she was going to live with her mom made it worse. Because it made it more permanent somehow.
“Congratulations,” I said, but the word sounded strained even to my own ears. We both knew I was full of shit. “That’s great.”
“I’m excited. I’ve applied to these art schools and if I get in, it would be an amazing experience.”
If she got in? I bit back my criticism. That was just like Bree to relocate to a different country for college when she didn’t even know if she’d been accepted to said college yet. And the fact that this entire decision relied on her mom?
“Do you want some cocoa, Kennedy?” Mom asked as she handed a steaming mug to me.
“No. I just came down to say goodnight.”
“Goodnight, dear,” Mom said.
“I’ll try to be quiet when I come in,” Bree whispered. Her eyes were sad, and I knew she was disappointed in my reaction to her news. She was moving to Paris. How had she expected me to respond?
I excused myself and headed upstairs, where I climbed under the covers on the air mattress and stared at the ceiling in the darkness.
If I’d handled things differently in October, would Paris still be in Bree’s plans? I’d handled it horribly when I realized who the naked girl in my bed was, and I’d handled it horribly tonight. Bringing it up at Juke’s had been careless. I should have thought it through before I broached the subject. I just didn’t understand what she wanted from me. She was all about taking the risk and going with the flow. She leaped before she looked. Case in point? Paris.
It wasn’t long before I heard the soft creaking of the stairs and Aubree coming into the room. She didn’t turn on any lights, but I could make out her silhouette as she grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom.