Or maybe it’s just because Michael is a lot like my father. He shares all those values and doesn’t seem to question anything about our family. Michael is the ideal son, at least according to my father, and that’s bad news for me. I know he believes that if my parents think I should be married off to Milo then I should just do it, because that’s what’s best for me and for the family.
“I guess you weren’t listening,” I say, and turn to head upstairs.
“Wait,” he says, coming toward me. “Hold on.”
“What?” I ask him, heart hammering in my chest.
“Are you wearing makeup?”
I laugh a little bit, nervous and afraid. “I always wear makeup.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, watching me quietly. “Where are you coming from, Sadie?”
He knows. I can see it in his eyes. He put it together already, but he wants me to admit to it. He wants me to come out and say it.
“I was out,” I say softly. “And it’s none of your business.”
He shakes his head. “Father will be angry if you were with that Gavin man.”
“Why do you even care?” I ask him.
“Because I’m worried about you.”
That catches me off guard. I expected him to say something about duty to the family and upholding the family honor, but his response is totally not what I thought. He looks sincere as well.
“Don’t be,” I say to him.
“That man is a lot older than you,” he continues. “And he has a bad reputation. Sadie, I know we haven’t always been close, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m okay,” I say to him softly. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Michael, of all people. I always thought he only cared about me because he had to, but this seems like genuine concern.
“Just be careful,” he says. “There’s a reason father doesn’t want you with this man.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say to Michael. “I’m being careful.”
“Okay.” He shakes his head. “Mom and Dad are asleep, so just be quiet.”
I nod to him gratefully and hurry upstairs, not wanting to push my luck.
I partly expected him to start yelling, but that concern was totally unexpected. I feel incredibly fortunate and grateful as I get into my bedroom and shut the door, forgetting about Michael almost as soon as the lock clicks into place.
I should get to bed, but there’s one last thing I want to do. I head into my bathroom and take a picture for Gavin, something sexy, something I’ve never done before. I’m smiling to myself as I hit send, all concern and worry completely gone.
The next morning, I wake up from a single text from Gavin.
“Good morning. I’ve been looking at your picture all night. I need to see you again.”
I smile to myself and respond. “Soon,” I type, and hit send. I toss my phone aside then get up and get ready for the day.
I leave my phone behind when I head downstairs for breakfast. I’m feeling good, totally sure that I didn’t get caught. Mom and Dad were asleep and so they never heard me come in.
But as soon as I walk into the dining room, I know something is wrong. Mother and Peter aren’t there. Michael looks up at me with a frown then glances at father.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Michael says.
My father nods. “Thank you, son.”
Michael gets up and walks toward the door. When he’s on his way out, he pauses and looks at me. “This is for your own good,” he says softly, and then leaves.
Terror rings through me. I look at father and I know.
Michael freaking told on me.
I can’t believe it. That’s the most childish and awful thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I was starting to think that he was a real older brother and I totally misunderstood him, but clearly I’ve been right all along. He only cares about the family and about doing what father tells him to do.
“Let me explain,” I say, but he stands.
“No, let me explain.” His eyes are cold and angry. “You’re forbidden from leaving this apartment. You’re forbidden from seeing that man ever again. You may not communicate with him. You may not do anything that I don’t approve of. Do you understand?”
I stare back at him and I have to hold back my tears. I’m so freaking angry I could scream. I don’t want to cry because I’m sad, I want to cry because it’s taking so much effort not to scream at him.
I’m not a little girl. I’m not some child that he can push around. I’m an adult, and I need to start acting like one.
I nod my head once. “Whatever you say, father,” I respond, practically spitting the words at him.