Regretting You (31 page)

Clara covers her face. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”

Miller starts to walk around the bed but then pauses and looks at Clara, then me, then Clara, then down at his bare chest. That’s when I realize Clara is wearing his shirt.

Does he expect her to give it back to him? Is he an idiot?
He is. She’s dating an idiot.
“Get out!”

“Wait, Miller,” Clara says. She snatches the shirt she was wearing yesterday off the floor and walks to her closet. She closes herself inside so she can change shirts. Miller looks like he doesn’t know if he should listen to her and wait for his shirt or run before I murder him. Lucky for him, it only takes Clara a few seconds to change.

She opens the door and hands him his shirt.

Miller pulls on the shirt, so I yell at him again, this time with more force. “Get
out
!” I look at Clara, wearing just a T-shirt that barely covers her ass. “Get dressed!”

Miller rushes to the window and starts to open it.
He really is an idiot.
“Just use the front door, Miller!
Jesus!
”

Clara is wrapped in her bedsheet now, sitting on her bed, full of rage and embarrassment.
That makes two of us.

Miller slips past me nervously, looking back at Clara. “See you at school?” He whispers it, as if I’m unable to hear him. Clara nods.

Honestly. She could sneak any guy into her bedroom, and
this
is the guy she chooses? “Clara won’t be at school today.”

Clara looks at Miller as he reaches the hallway. “Yes, I will.”

I look at Miller. “She won’t be there. Goodbye.”

He spins and leaves.
Finally.

Clara tosses the sheet away and reaches to the floor to grab the jeans she wore yesterday. “You can’t ground me from school.”

My worry about whether I have the right to parent her is nonexistent right now thanks to my anger. She isn’t going anywhere today. “You are sixteen years old. I have every right to ground you from whatever the hell I want to ground you from.” I glance around her room, looking for her phone so I can confiscate it.

“Actually,
Mother
. I’m seventeen.” She slips a leg into her jeans. “But I guess you were too busy with Jonah to remember that today’s my birthday.”

Shit.

I was wrong.

This
is rock bottom. I try to recover by muttering, “
I didn’t forget
,” but it’s obvious I did.

Clara rolls her eyes as she buttons her jeans. She walks to her bathroom and comes back out with her purse.

“You aren’t going to school like that. You wore those clothes yesterday.”

“Watch me,” she says, shoving past me.

I’m pressed against the frame of her bedroom door as I watch her walk down the hall. I should be running after her. This isn’t okay.
Sneaking a boy into her bedroom is
not
okay. Having sex with a guy she just started dating is
certainly
not okay. There is so much wrong here, but I’m scared it’s beyond my parenting abilities. I don’t even know what to say to her or how to punish her or if I even have the
right
to at this point.

I hear the front door slam, and I flinch.

I grip my head and slide down to the floor. A tear rolls down my cheek and then another. I hate it because that means a raging headache is going to follow. I’ve had headaches every single day since the accident, thanks to the tears.

This time, I deserve the headache. It’s like my own actions have given permission to her rebellion.
They have.
She’ll never respect me again. A person can’t learn from someone they don’t respect. It just doesn’t work that way.

I can hear the faint sound of my phone ringing down the hall. I’m sure it’s Jonah, but part of me wonders if it could be Clara, even though she hasn’t even had time to back out of the driveway. I rush to my bedroom, but I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Grant?”

I grab a Kleenex and wipe my nose. “This is she.”

“I’m the technician who’ll be repairing your cable today. I just wanted to let you know that someone will need to be home from nine until five so that I can have access to do the repairs.”

I sink onto the bed. “Seriously? You expect me to sit in this house for the entire day?”

There’s a pause. He clears his throat and says, “It’s just policy, ma’am. We can’t enter an empty residence.”

“I get that it’s policy for someone to be here, but you can’t give me a smaller window of time? Maybe two hours? Three?”

“It’s difficult for us to pinpoint a particular time because every repair varies in need.”

“Yeah, but come on. An entire day? Why do I have to stay in this house for eight
fucking
hours?”
Oh my God. I’m cussing at the cable technician.
I shake my head, pressing my palm against my forehead. “You know what? Just cancel it. I don’t even want cable. No one has cable anymore. In fact, you should probably start looking into other careers, because apparently being a cable technician is no longer sustainable.”

I end the call, and then I toss my phone on the bed and stare at it.

Okay. Okay.
This
is rock bottom. This is
definitely
rock bottom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CLARA

I get to school half an hour early. There are only a handful of vehicles in the student parking lot, and Miller’s truck isn’t even one of them. There’s no way I’m walking into Jonah’s classroom early, so I pull the lever on my seat and lean back.

I’m not going to cry.

In fact, I’m not even angry right now. If anything, I’m numb. So much has happened in the last twelve hours that I feel like my brain must have an emergency shutoff valve. I’m not sad about it. I prefer this feeling of numbness to the anger I had last night and the embarrassment I had this morning when my mother was so rude to Miller.

I get it. I snuck a boy into my room. I had sex. That’s really shitty, but she lost her privilege last night to tell me what is and isn’t shitty behavior.

I flinch at the knock on my passenger window. Miller is standing next to my car, and I no longer feel numb because seeing him springs
a little bit of life back into me. He opens the door and takes a seat, handing me a coffee.

He’s never looked so good. Sure, he’s tired, and neither of us have brushed our teeth or our hair, and we’re wearing the same clothes we wore yesterday, but he’s holding coffee and looking at me like he doesn’t hate me, and that’s a beautiful thing.

“Figured you could use the caffeine,” he says.

I take a sip and savor the heat against my tongue and the sweet caramel sliding down my throat.
I don’t know why it took me so long to appreciate coffee.

“For what it’s worth . . . happy birthday?”

He says it like a question. I guess it is. “Thank you. Even though this is the second-worst day of my life.”

“I think yesterday was the second-worst day of your life. Today still has a chance of looking up.”

I take another sip and grab his hand, squeezing it, sliding my fingers through his.

“What happened after I left? Did she ground you?”

I laugh at that. “No. And she won’t.”

“You snuck me into your room last night. Not sure how you can get out of that one, even if it
is
your birthday.”

“My mother is a liar, a cheat, and a very bad example for me. I decided this morning I’m no longer following her rules. I’ll be better off just raising myself.”

Miller squeezes my hand. I can tell he doesn’t like what I’m saying, but he doesn’t talk me out of feeling this way. Maybe he thinks I just need time to calm down, but time won’t help. I’m done with her.

“What’d Lexie say when you told her what happened?”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lexie?”

He nods, sipping his coffee.

“Shit! Lexie!” I crank my car. “I forgot to pick her up.”

Miller laughs. “Well, in your defense, you’ve had an eventful morning.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

I kiss him back. “Okay.”

He grabs the door handle and goes to get out of the car. I squeeze his arm, needing to say one more thing. When he falls back into his seat and looks at me, I lift my hand to the side of his head, not knowing what words to use to convey how sorry I am for last night. I stare at him, my heart full of remorse, but I seem to have forgotten how to verbalize anything at this point.

Miller leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. I close my eyes, and he remains there for a moment. He brings his hand up to the back of my neck and caresses it. “It’s okay, Clara,” he whispers. “I promise.” His lips briefly meet my forehead before he gets out of my car and closes the door.

I am fully aware of what an asshole move that was last night. I’m still mortified by it. So much so I already know I’m not telling Lexie what happened between Miller and me. I’ll never tell anyone. And I hope someday we’ll have a redo of that moment, because I certainly did a great job of ruining it.

I was so early to school that when I finally made it to Lexie’s house, she didn’t even know I had forgotten her. She walked out of her house with a wrapped gift and a Mylar balloon that said “Get Well Soon” on it.

She does that a lot. Waits until the last minute until it’s too late to find the appropriate card, or balloon, or wrapping paper. Half the stuff she gives me is normally wrapped in Christmas paper, no matter what time of year it is.

I still can’t believe my mother forgot my birthday. At least Miller and Lexie remembered.

Even though I’ve only been seventeen for a few hours, I’m proud of my newfound maturity. When I walked into Jonah’s classroom half
an hour ago, I made it all the way to my seat without punching him. Even when he told me good morning. Even when his voice cracked as he said it. I didn’t even make eye contact with him.

He’s been lecturing for about twenty minutes now, and I haven’t done a single thing I’ve fantasized about doing during the twenty minutes I’ve been in his class. I’ve wanted to scream at him, call him an adulterer, tell the entire class about his affair with my mother, hack the intercom system to tell the whole school.

But I haven’t done any of those things, and I’m proud of myself for it. I’ve remained extremely calm and composed, and as long as I keep my eyes off him, I think I might be able to make it through the entire class and escape without a confrontation.

Seventeen looks good on me. I’m practically an adult now, thank God, because I can’t rely on my mother to raise me anymore.

I smile when I get her text.

She’s the pickiest person I know when it comes to guys. I’m honestly very surprised she agreed to go out with him. Relieved, but surprised.

I start to type out a text to her when Jonah says, “Clara, please put your phone away.”

My chest heaves at the sound of his voice. It makes my skin crawl. “I’ll put it away when I’m finished with my text.”

I hear a couple of people gasp in the room, like I just cussed at him or something. I continue typing my response to Lexie.

I need to ask administration if I can switch classes. There’s no way I can look at Jonah for the rest of the year. I don’t want to be in the same room as him, the same house as him, the same town as him, the same
world
as him.

“Clara.” He says my name with a gentleness, almost as if it’s a plea not to make a scene. He can’t allow me to text when no one else is allowed to have their phones out. I understand his awkward predicament, not wanting to call me out but being forced to. I should feel bad, but I don’t. I kind of like that he’s uncomfortable right now. He deserves a dose of how I’ve felt since I saw his hands pawing at my mother while his tongue was in her throat.

God, I can’t get it out of my head no matter how hard I try.

I lift my eyes and look at him for the first time since walking into his classroom. Jonah is standing at the front of his desk, leaning against it, his feet crossed at the ankles. He’s in teacher mode. Normally I would respect that, but right now, all I see when I look at him is the man who cheated on my aunt Jenny. With my
mother
.

When he nods his head toward my phone with a pleading expression, silently asking me to put it away again, all I see is red. I grip my phone in my right hand, and I hurl it toward the trash can near the classroom door. My phone crashes against the wall and falls to the floor in pieces.

I can’t believe I just did that.

Apparently, no one else in the class can believe it either. There’s a collective gasp. I think one of those gasps is mine.

Jonah stands up straighter and walks to the classroom door. He opens it and points out into the hallway. I snatch up my backpack and push myself out of the desk. I march to the door, more than ready to leave this room. I glare at him as I pass through the doorway. I’m sure he’s about to walk me to the office, so it doesn’t surprise me when he closes the door to his classroom and follows me.