"Oh!" Mom wipes her hands on her apron and leans around us to peer at the driveway. She runs a smooth palm over her hair and tucks it behind her ears as she unties her apron. "It's Cortland."
"Cortland travels on Mondays." I stand up, brows angled and unsure if I should work my way toward the door or not, but within seconds, Mom has beaten me to it.
My father catches my glance and nods toward the door, silently telling me to greet my suitor.
I can't forget to feign excitement whenever he's near, though it's excruciatingly difficult when all I feel is a sick, heavy dread in the center of my chest when I see him. I slap a smile on my face and tiptoe to the foyer where my mother is gushing over something in her hand.
She turns to me and holds it out. "Look, Bellamy. I mentioned to Cortland last week that my favorite gold locket had cracked. He took it to his cousin who happens to own the jewelry store on Outpost Avenue. Had it fixed for me. Isn't he the sweetest?"
Cortland grins like a harmless boy scout, his gaze traveling back and forth between us.
"I thought you were traveling today? The northeastern territory?" I ask.
"I stuck around town today," he says. "Took care of a few local places. Swapped territories with my brother, Corbin. He's been itching for new turf anyway. Think we might make it official. Besides, I'd like to be around more to get to know my future wife a little better."
My insides twist like they're caught in a vice grip. I loved that he traveled, and I loved that I only had to see him twice a week. The fact that he'll be local now means he's going to find every opportunity he can to come over.
"Have you eaten yet?" My mother extends the invitation I saw coming three seconds ago. Sometimes I think I know her better than she knows herself.
"Oh, I don't want to impose, Mrs. Miller." He answers her but looks at me.
"We'd love to have you." I lie through my teeth and a close-mouthed half-smile. "I'll set another place at the table."
"You're practically family," my mother says, taking him by the arm and leading him away. "You're always welcome here, Cortland."
Minutes later, we're scrunched at the table, side by side, our arms touching but our postures perfectly respectable. At one point his hand slips off his knee and onto mine under the shield of the tablecloth, but my fingers twitch and rise up to my hair, out of his reach.
He shoots me a glance, but I ignore it, so he spends the better part of the next several minutes kissing up to my father and showering my mothers with compliments galore.
My sister, Waverly, watches us from across the table with stars in her eyes, staring like I'm lucky to have found someone our father approved of.
If she only knew.
Halfway through dinner, I lose my appetite. It just up and walked off, along with my attention span and my thoughts, which are one million percent focused on my new job.
Well, Dane, if I'm being specific.
"Isn't that right, Bellamy?" My father's voice yanks me out of my otherworldly daydream.
"Beg your pardon?" If I pretend I didn't hear him, I might be okay.
Cortland and my father exchange glances and share a light chuckle together like they're a couple of old pals bonding.
"Your father said as a child you were addicted to chocolate ice cream. Said you wouldn't do anything unless they bribed you with it," my khaki-outfitted suitor says.
"Oh. Yes. That's right," I exhale my words along with a handful of relief. "As a small child, yes."
Dad sits up and dabs his napkin cross his mouth. "You two have been courting now for, what, a couple of months?"
"Seven weeks," Cortland says.
My mothers all grin and tilt their heads like he's some romantic dreamboat.
"I think it's time you two spent a little one on one time together," Dad says. "Why don't Jane and I run you down to the local ice cream shop. We'll keep our distance, but this will at least give you two a bit more time to talk."
Wonderful.
"That would be great, Mr. Miller," Cortland says. "I'd love that. Bellamy?"
"Can't say no to that." I force another smile and drop my fork against my plate. This night needs to end. If I could blink and be in my bed alone right now, that'd be amazing.
Aside from seeing him at Bible study each Wednesday, Cortland comes over on Saturdays. He usually dotes on me for a little while and then ends up helping my father with things around the house. After that we finish the evening with a board game in the family room.
He hasn't had an opportunity to touch me or kiss me or pin me in weeks, and he wears the expression of a sexually frustrated man aching for a chance to take me to bed and have his way with me once and for all.
That is, after all, his ultimate goal.
That also explains his territory switch at work. He wants to spend more time here. He wants to fast-track the courtship.
"Shall we head out?" My father's plate is empty, and he motions for my mother to grab the keys to the car. "Cortland and Bellamy?"
Waverly, Kath, and Summer rise up, clearing dishes and starting dinner clean up. I'd give anything to be washing dishes right now.
***
The backseat of the car is dark, and Cortland's hand twitches on his knee. His stare is penetrating, and I'd give anything for my father to turn around for a second and see the way he looks at me when he doesn't think anyone will notice.
My father pulls up to the ice cream emporium and shifts his Buick into park. "All right. I'll let you two skip ahead. It'll be like we're not even here."
Yeah.
Right.
He'll be watching our every move like some crazy, stalker dad.
Cortland walks me straight up to the cash register where he orders a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a dish for me and a scoop of mint chocolate chip for himself. He doesn't even give me a chance to browse the fifty other available flavors, and I hate that he ordered for me.
He declines waffle bowls, which are only a fifty-cent upcharge. I'm not sure if he's cheap, or he doesn't think I need the extra calories. Either way, I don't want to be here. I don't want to eat ice cream, and I don't want to be with him.
"Here you are," he hands me a pink spoon and a small dish of chocolate ice cream. We find a spot in the corner, a little table for two with two connected swivel chairs. The hard plastic is just as uncomfortable as the turmoil boiling beneath my faux-façade. "Chocolate. Your favorite."
Chocolate was my favorite when I was, like, five.
"Thank you."
"This was kind of your father," he says, using his skilled tongue to lick green ice cream from his spoon. His tongue used to be pure magic. Now it's a dangerous weapon. "Maybe this'll open up more opportunities for us to hang out solo? Like really solo."
I shake my head. "Never. He won't allow that."
"Psh." Cortland scoffs, as if to say, "I've got this. I can handle Mark Miller."
"You don't know my father very well. He's crazy protective of his daughters' virtues and the family reputation."
I realize how utterly ridiculous I sound considering months ago I had no problem hopping in the backseat of a car with a random guy from church and doing everything but …
And the only reason I never had sex with Cortland was because neither of us had condoms, and I'm not on the pill, and we weren't about to risk being seen trying to obtain such things.
I stare at deceptively handsome Cortland and can't help but wonder if he'd be relentlessly pursuing me if I'd given it up already.
He probably wants to screw me just as bad as I want freedom.
Only one of us will win.
"This is my way of protecting your virtue, Bellamy."
"What are you talking about?"
The door jingles and we both crank our necks to see my father walk in and head up to the counter. Mom is still out in the car. This whole thing is bizarre. He doesn't make eye contact with us, which I'm sure is his warped way of doing us a favor by pretending we're strangers.
He's here, but he's not.
We wait for my father to walk out with two banana splits before another word is spoken.
"What were you saying a minute ago?" I refuse to drop it. I want to know how the hell he thinks he's protecting my virtue.
"Because you're damaged goods." He says it like he's stating a scientific fact.
I shove my spoon in the center of the melting mound of ice cream in front of me and shove the cup away. "Excuse me?"
"Come on, Bellamy." He cocks his head, flashing a perfect smile. "You know what I mean. You've … you've been touched. You've done stuff."
"Yeah. With you."
"Yeah, but if another guy knew? I don't think he'd be cool with it. A guy might get the impression that you're a loose girl."
What is this, the 1950s?!
"What about you?" I cross my arms over my chest. "What does that make you?"
His lips pucker as he stifles a laugh. "It's different for guys. You know that."
I rise, unwilling to tolerate another minute across from that imbecile.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.