Stealing Rose
Page 71
The look Violet shoots me is full of skepticism. I hate that look. She knows I’m lying. I know I’m lying, too.
I just don’t want to admit it.
“Have you spoken to Whitney lately?” My rapid change of subject makes Violet blink.
“We went to lunch yesterday,” Violet says. I can tell she didn’t want to admit that. Her friendship with Whitney almost feels like a betrayal. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.
“Maybe she could shed some light on Caden.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, you talking to Whitney about Caden? Considering their shared history …” Her voice drifts off.
Yeah. I’m more determined than ever to talk to Whitney about Caden. “Could you give me her number?”
“You’ll only stir up trouble,” Violet says, her voice firm in that I’m your substitute mother and what I say goes way of hers. “You should keep her out of this, Rose. You’ll only get mad if you talk to her. She might tell you things you don’t want to hear.”
“That’s for me to decide. Besides.” I shrug, trying for nonchalance. Hoping I don’t fail. “I’m not getting her involved in anything. I just want to talk to her.”
Liar.
“Uh-huh.” Violet grabs her iPhone and starts texting.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Whitney.” She shoots me a look. “Telling her not to talk to you.”
“God, you’re a witch.” I won’t call her the B-word. That would start a fight of epic proportions. I did it once when I was sixteen and I still regret it.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
“You’re telling her to avoid me. How is that for my own good?”
“I’m trying to protect you.” Violet sets her phone down on the desk. It dings and she glances at the message. “Great. Now she’s curious.”
“Of course she’s curious. If you told me I shouldn’t talk to someone, I’d want to talk to them even more.”
“Kind of like how I’m telling you to stay away from Caden and you want to go run to him now?” Violet asks pointedly. “Because I know you. He’s like forbidden fruit. All you want is another taste.”
“You did the same exact thing with Ryder.”
Her expression flickers. She can’t deny it because I’m speaking the truth. “A different situation,” she says hurriedly.
“How? You’re being a total hypocrite right now. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Her phone dings again and she glances at it. “Oh my God,” she whispers.
“What?”
Violet snatches up her phone as if she doesn’t want me to see it. Leaping out of my chair, I round the desk, trying to make a grab for her phone, and she clutches it close to her chest. “You do not want to see this,” she says, her voice low and full of warning.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I reach for it again. “I do.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Hand it over, Violet.” I hold out my hand, palm up, and she looks at it before she lifts her gaze to mine.
“No.”
I drop my hand and roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Just show it to me!”
Slowly she holds her phone out toward me and I squint, trying to see what it is.
A photo. Of the perfect blond-bobbed Whitney, her lips covered in gloss and puckered against a man’s cheek.
But not just any man’s cheek. My man’s.
Caden.
I snatch the phone out of Violet’s hand and she yells at me but I ignore her. The message below the photo says: Don’t tell your sister I’m sitting on his lap.
I text Whitney a reply, pretending I’m Violet, trying my best to quell the rage rising within me.
What are you doing with him?
“You’re not texting her, are you?” Violet sounds horrified.
Good.
I’m at a little get-together. You and Ryder should swing by. It’s a crazy one though. I must warn you.
“She’s at a party,” I say, my voice hoarse. My heart is cracking in two. Caden mentioned he was going to his friend’s house, but he didn’t say anything about a party.
“With Caden?”
I nod, unable to speak. I’m afraid I’ll start yelling or worse, crying. He’s with Whitney. At a party. And she’s taking pictures of the two of them together, and …
God, what are they doing together?
My imagination kicks into overdrive and I send that bitch Whitney another text.
Where are you at exactly? Maybe we will stop by.
I wait, my patience, my control, my emotions … all of it fraying at the seams. I feel like I’m about to break apart into a trillion tiny pieces. No way could Caden be cheating on me with Whitney. No. Way. He wouldn’t do that. We’ve become too close; we’ve shared too much.
Well. We haven’t shared much beyond our bodies. I can’t even begin to deal with or process what Violet just told me, either.
I just want Caden. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently it is.
The phone dings and I check it.
Belgrave Square. Want me to text you the address?
The most hoity-toity neighborhood in all of London. Of course. Maybe Caden’s not there to screw around with Whitney. Perhaps he’s there to steal from his friend, or anyone else who happens to be there and dripping with fine jewels.
I just don’t want to admit it.
“Have you spoken to Whitney lately?” My rapid change of subject makes Violet blink.
“We went to lunch yesterday,” Violet says. I can tell she didn’t want to admit that. Her friendship with Whitney almost feels like a betrayal. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.
“Maybe she could shed some light on Caden.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, you talking to Whitney about Caden? Considering their shared history …” Her voice drifts off.
Yeah. I’m more determined than ever to talk to Whitney about Caden. “Could you give me her number?”
“You’ll only stir up trouble,” Violet says, her voice firm in that I’m your substitute mother and what I say goes way of hers. “You should keep her out of this, Rose. You’ll only get mad if you talk to her. She might tell you things you don’t want to hear.”
“That’s for me to decide. Besides.” I shrug, trying for nonchalance. Hoping I don’t fail. “I’m not getting her involved in anything. I just want to talk to her.”
Liar.
“Uh-huh.” Violet grabs her iPhone and starts texting.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Whitney.” She shoots me a look. “Telling her not to talk to you.”
“God, you’re a witch.” I won’t call her the B-word. That would start a fight of epic proportions. I did it once when I was sixteen and I still regret it.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
“You’re telling her to avoid me. How is that for my own good?”
“I’m trying to protect you.” Violet sets her phone down on the desk. It dings and she glances at the message. “Great. Now she’s curious.”
“Of course she’s curious. If you told me I shouldn’t talk to someone, I’d want to talk to them even more.”
“Kind of like how I’m telling you to stay away from Caden and you want to go run to him now?” Violet asks pointedly. “Because I know you. He’s like forbidden fruit. All you want is another taste.”
“You did the same exact thing with Ryder.”
Her expression flickers. She can’t deny it because I’m speaking the truth. “A different situation,” she says hurriedly.
“How? You’re being a total hypocrite right now. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Her phone dings again and she glances at it. “Oh my God,” she whispers.
“What?”
Violet snatches up her phone as if she doesn’t want me to see it. Leaping out of my chair, I round the desk, trying to make a grab for her phone, and she clutches it close to her chest. “You do not want to see this,” she says, her voice low and full of warning.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I reach for it again. “I do.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Hand it over, Violet.” I hold out my hand, palm up, and she looks at it before she lifts her gaze to mine.
“No.”
I drop my hand and roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Just show it to me!”
Slowly she holds her phone out toward me and I squint, trying to see what it is.
A photo. Of the perfect blond-bobbed Whitney, her lips covered in gloss and puckered against a man’s cheek.
But not just any man’s cheek. My man’s.
Caden.
I snatch the phone out of Violet’s hand and she yells at me but I ignore her. The message below the photo says: Don’t tell your sister I’m sitting on his lap.
I text Whitney a reply, pretending I’m Violet, trying my best to quell the rage rising within me.
What are you doing with him?
“You’re not texting her, are you?” Violet sounds horrified.
Good.
I’m at a little get-together. You and Ryder should swing by. It’s a crazy one though. I must warn you.
“She’s at a party,” I say, my voice hoarse. My heart is cracking in two. Caden mentioned he was going to his friend’s house, but he didn’t say anything about a party.
“With Caden?”
I nod, unable to speak. I’m afraid I’ll start yelling or worse, crying. He’s with Whitney. At a party. And she’s taking pictures of the two of them together, and …
God, what are they doing together?
My imagination kicks into overdrive and I send that bitch Whitney another text.
Where are you at exactly? Maybe we will stop by.
I wait, my patience, my control, my emotions … all of it fraying at the seams. I feel like I’m about to break apart into a trillion tiny pieces. No way could Caden be cheating on me with Whitney. No. Way. He wouldn’t do that. We’ve become too close; we’ve shared too much.
Well. We haven’t shared much beyond our bodies. I can’t even begin to deal with or process what Violet just told me, either.
I just want Caden. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently it is.
The phone dings and I check it.
Belgrave Square. Want me to text you the address?
The most hoity-toity neighborhood in all of London. Of course. Maybe Caden’s not there to screw around with Whitney. Perhaps he’s there to steal from his friend, or anyone else who happens to be there and dripping with fine jewels.
