Cruel Promise Page 3

  “You do?” I whispered in awe. No one had ever talked about me like that.

  His smile made his eyes crinkle. It was the most genuine smile I’d ever seen from anyone in my entire life. Sam was one of a kind.

  “I’m glad the wait is over.”

  II

  “To Governor Woodhouse! The winner of the Wisconsin primary and presumptive winner of the presidential primary!” Moira cried, holding her beer aloft.

  We all lifted our glasses to meet hers and cheered our victory. The primary had been grueling, but now that it was behind us, the future looked even brighter. There had always been the chance that Woodhouse wouldn’t be nominated, and then we’d all have to close up shop and hop to another candidate. Or more likely, in my case, head back home.

  “God, I love this place,” Sam said as a platter of fries were set out before us.

  We were currently inside The Station, our favorite bar in town—primarily because it also served after-hours bar grub. Not the best place to eat in town, but they served beer, too. So, win-win.

  I reached for the fries, dunking them in ketchup and wrinkling my nose as Moira went for the mustard. “I don’t know how you can stand that stuff.”

  “Well, I don’t know how you can be allergic to strawberries. Do you know how good they are?” Moira asked.

  I shook my head. “As if I have a choice in what I’m allergic to.”

  Moira shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Says the woman with more allergies than anyone I’ve met.”

  “But yeah, I’m just allergic to grass and trees and rabbits and, like, most of nature. Not wonderful, delicious foods, like strawberries.”

  “You have such an interesting view on this,” Sam said.

  “Hey now,” Moira said, pointing at him. “I don’t need the boyfriend to gang up on me.”

  A flush moved up my neck and into my cheeks. I still wasn’t used to that word out of anyone’s mouth. Sam was my boyfriend. And I was his girlfriend. It felt surreal and like it was absolutely perfect. No wonder I’d never really had a serious boyfriend before this. Just lots and lots of casual dates.

  Sam stuffed another fry in his mouth. “Don’t get mad at us because you’re pining over Toby.”

  “Whoa!” Moira said, holding up her hands. “I am not pining for Toby.”

  I snort-laughed. “Yes, you are.”

  “That is outrageous.”

  “We all know it, Moira,” Sam said with a shrug.

  Moira looked on indignantly. “I do not pine. I can have whoever I want. And I’ll have you know that I left an ex back home, pining after me. Might hook back up with him when this is all over.”

  Sam laughed. “Whatever you want us to think.”

  Moira stood from her seat and rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the other table where they appreciate me.”

  I reached for Moira’s hand. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

  She winked at me with her own giggle and then wandered to the other table of campaign workers from our state office.

  “She’s so touchy sometimes,” Sam said.

  “She’s Moira. I love her.”

  He nodded. “She’s the best.” He finished off the fries and dove into the basket of wings. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I asked as I reached for a barbecue one.

  “Do you have someone waiting for you back in New York?”

  “Oh,” I said, biting my lip. “No. I don’t have anyone.”

  “Really? No exes?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, I dated people, but I was never serious.”

  Sam looked at me like he wanted me to continue. He was eating a wing and patiently waiting for me to say more. Which was…fuck. Okay, I’d have to say more. But what could I say that wouldn’t incriminate myself?

  “My parents are kind of controlling,” I told him evenly. “Weirdly controlling about some things…like my career path. And also, somehow, very flippant about most other things. They don’t care who I date or really anything I do as long as I stay on the right trajectory.”

  “That sounds freeing and also constricting.”

  “Exactly,” I said, relieved that I could get him to understand without revealing everything. I wasn’t ready for that yet. “So, I did a lot of, uh…uh, rebellious things in high school and college to try to find the boundaries that were never there.”

  “Ah,” he said, as if catching on. “So, no boyfriends but lots of…dating.”

  “Yeah. The only people I ever really had in my life were my crew.”

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I grew up with four best friends—Penn, Katherine, Lewis, and Rowe. We have a fraught history, but we’ve always been there for each other.”

  “That sounds nice,” he said. “I’ve always been like that with my brother, Jake.”

  “I’m an only child. So, my family is the crew.”

  I glanced down at my plate. I didn’t exactly want to tell him that I’d fooled around a lot, growing up. That pushing those boundaries meant pushing them with everyone, including my friends. That I’d actually slept with Penn, Lewis, and Rowe at some point. That I wasn’t this person. This good girl he knew was an illusion. I’d always been something…someone else. I liked the person he saw. The normal girl he was falling for.

  “At least you have them,” he said.

  I nodded. “Otherwise, this might be the first time I’ve ever been serious about anyone.”

  When I looked back up at him, he was smiling broad. “Really? I like being your first.”

  I swallowed as I felt myself sink deeper into Sam. I wasn’t lying about my past. Not really. Just not telling all of the truth. I wasn’t ready to see his reaction about who I really was. I’d seen it over and over again. The thought of Sam looking at me differently made me want to be sick. No, I couldn’t tell him. Not yet.

  “What about you?” I asked hastily instead. “Do you have exes?”

  “Ex,” he clarified. “Just one.”

  “Oh?” I asked, my interest piqued.

  “Melissa Young,” he said with a sigh. “We dated through most of college. She still lives in Chapel Hill and goes to church with my family. It’s been complicated since we broke up.”

  “Complicated how?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. My parents want us to get back together. They like that she’s a local girl. But I knew that I was leaving for over a year on campaign. I knew we’d never survive long distance.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. She’s…needy.” He sighed heavily. “I hate saying that. She’s a nice girl, and we were together for a long time.” He looked deep into my eyes. “But I think if she was that easy to leave, then she wasn’t ever going to be my endgame.”

  I considered his honesty. Hated that I couldn’t reciprocate it. And found a twinge of jealousy creep up in me. That he’d had a relationship like that in the past. That his family still wanted that. If they knew who I was, I was certain they wouldn’t approve. Or they’d only approve for my money…if they were that sort of people. I hoped not.

  I didn’t want to feel jealous. It wasn’t like Melissa was here. Sam had left her before we ever met. But somehow…that Upper East Side girl inside of me couldn’t hold back the petty.

  I dispelled the thought. I didn’t need to feel that.

  After all, I was the one here with Sam.

  III

  “Thank you so much, Kennedy,” I said to my lead volunteer.

  We were enjoying an ice cream cone from the university Dairy Store on Lake Mendota. Kennedy had agreed to take charge of the event after working with me on the vote-athon.

  “You really don’t have to thank me, Lark,” she said. “I’m so happy that we have a presence for Governor Woodhouse on campus. Four years ago, I wasn’t old enough to vote, and I wanted to so badly. But so many of my classmates don’t seem to get how important it is. Like they don’t think politics affec
ts them. As if taxes and student loans and tuition aren’t decided by the government.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well, I agree with you. I’m here after all.”

  “And thank god,” she crooned. “We could have had anyone.”

  I laughed. “Anyone would have done a good job.”

  “But you’re the best,” Kennedy said as if it were a fact.

  Then, she waved at another girl nearby and nodded her head to say she was going to go talk to her. I let her go. This was why she was here after all. Because Kennedy knew everyone. Which was how she had doubled our volunteers in the time we’d been working together. I was going to miss her over the summer when everyone cleared out of the university.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reached for it, expecting to see a cute message from Sam. We’d been texting back and forth like crazy. I kept wanting to invite him over to my place after we’d had another late night at The Station. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. New York Lark would have done it, but this Lark was waiting for him to make the first move. And I knew he wanted to wait. I just didn’t know what he was waiting for.

  When I glanced down at my phone though, it wasn’t from Sam at all. The screen was lit up with one word—Mother.

  I groaned. Great. This was going to be…fantastic.

  With a heavy sigh, I answered, “Mother, what a surprise.”

  “Hello, Larkin, darling. How is my lovely daughter?”

  “I’m doing well,” I said evenly. I knew she wasn’t calling to hear about the campaign. She wouldn’t want details. This had to be about something else. Something I was certain I didn’t want to hear. “Can I help you?”

  “Now, why would you think that I needed help with something?”

  I looked skyward. Games. So many games. I’d almost forgotten how exhausting it was to play them. I hadn’t heard from my mother since the day I moved away, set on forging my own path on the campaign trail for the next year. And now, here she was, determined to make my life more frustrating. It wasn’t enough that I was working ninety-plus-hour weeks and barely sleeping. No, I had to now deal with my mother as well.

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you, is all,” I told her bluntly. My mother hated bluntness.

  “Larkin, you know what it’s like. Your father is swamped with the resorts. I’m busy designing the latest line of handbags. We’re both running billion-dollar companies.” Her mother sighed dramatically. “We could use the help.”

  Oh god, here it was. The real reason for the call.

  “You could come home.”

  I cringed. “We agreed on a year.”

  “Your candidate has won the primary. He probably doesn’t need your help to get elected now. He’s a shoo-in.”

  That was so far from the truth that it physically pained me. Not that my mother would care. “I can’t abandon my position. This is where I’m needed until November.”

  “Are you really though?” my mother asked. “Needed?”

  “Yes,” I ground out.

  “I know that you think you are, dear. But it’s not true. Anyone could take your place on that campaign, and the outcome would always be the same. You’re a hamster on a wheel in a giant machine there.” My mother didn’t sound emotional. It was all rehearsed. A robot. “You can make a difference here. Can’t you see about what’s really important, Larkin? You were raised to take over this company. This is where you’re needed.”

  Something cracked inside of me at her words. My hands started shaking. My throat closed up. Tears pricked at my eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to have a year. A full year without more of the same from my parents. A year free from their expectations and shoving the company down my throat. The fucking company. That was the only thing they cared about. Not me. Not their only daughter.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Everything felt far away and deathly quiet. As if I’d entered a wind tunnel.

  Whatever else my mother said was lost to me. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t coming home. We’d agreed on a year. I was going to get my year.

  But I couldn’t push back the rising panic. I knew it was irrational. This was my mother. This was how she was. She ruled with a heavy hand and didn’t so much guide as force people into the shape she wanted. This was nothing new.

  None of that mattered. Not as the panic attack took over my body. I didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the long hours, the constant pressure to perform. Or having to hide a piece of who I was at all times. Or if it was a combination of it all, but it hit me like a two-by-four to the chest.

  I hung up on my mother. I didn’t even remember doing it. But I couldn’t get air in. I was sitting in the grass on the quad, overlooking the lake, hyperventilating. Air all around me…and none of it was in my lungs.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to stop. But it was a waste. It wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t going away.

  I needed…I needed Sam.

  Without another thought, I sent one quick text to him.

  Panic attack. Help.

  I couldn’t see his response through my tears, but suddenly, he was there. His strong arms around my shoulders. His fingers brushing the tears off of my cheeks. His soothing words echoing in my ears. Then without a backward glance, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to his pickup truck.

  I had no memory of the drive to my apartment. Just him pulling up in front of the building and rushing around to my side of the truck.

  “Wait”—I hiccupped—“I have…to go back to work.”

  He shook his head, easing me out of the truck. “I don’t think so. I think you’re going to go upstairs and sleep. You need more sleep, Lark.”

  “But Toby…”

  “Let me worry about Toby,” he said more forcefully than I’d ever heard him.

  I’d been wrong about Sam. I’d thought that he was quiet and soft and principled. But when I needed him, I realized that he was so much more. Commanding and authoritative. Protective and capable and caring. He could take charge with ease, and I felt…safe in his arms. I knew that he wouldn’t let me down.

  We made it up to my apartment, and he found clothes for me to change into. Then, he carefully eased me into bed. My tears had stopped sometime earlier, but I still felt a growing sense of panic. A panic that I couldn’t erase.

  “Sam,” I said, reaching my hand out for him. He took it in his and kissed it. “Can you stay for a minute?”

  He nodded, kicking off his boots and crawling into bed after me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me to him. He was silent for a minute before asking, “What happened?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know how to explain. I couldn’t tell him about my mother. Not like this. He knew that she was controlling, but he’d never understand why she wanted me to give this all up to take over the family company. And it was more than that. It was the two decades of pressure to perform weighing on my shoulders. The knowledge that I’d have to go back after this was over and fit back into the perfect role of Larkin St. Vincent again. When I was finally getting comfortable with just being Lark.

  And damn it, this campaign was important to me! I wasn’t ready to leave. Even with the shit hours and my shit sleep schedule and my shit eating schedule and everything else that I hated about the job, I still loved the job.

  I swallowed. “It all came to a head at once. I talked to my mother, and it went…poorly. And work.” I shook my head, brushing at another tear. “My brain couldn’t keep up. I’m broken.”

  Sam squeezed me tighter to him. “You’re not broken. You’re just stressed. We all are. You need more sleep.”

  “I’d sleep better with you here,” I whispered baldly into the silence.

  He chuckled against my shoulder and then placed a kiss there. “Well, maybe we can arrange that here soon.”

  I shivered at the implication and heat in his voice. “I’d like that.”

  He kissed my neck. “But right now, sleep,” he whispered
against my skin. “You can relax. I’ll be here for you. Right here for you always.”

  SUMMER

  I

  “Do you have everything?” Sam asked from where he was sprawled on my bed.

  “You haven’t told me where we’re going. How do I know if I have everything?”

  “We have our first day off since Christmas, Lark. Who cares where we’re going?”

  When Toby had confirmed that we’d finally get a much-needed day off, Sam had immediately stepped into action, telling me that he was going to steal me and to not make any plans. True to my word, no plans. I’d let him do everything.

  “How much more stuff do you need for one day?” he grumbled.

  “A lot,” I said.

  I grinned at him and then threw in the only little lacy bit I’d brought with me from home. My hopes were up that we were going to finally seal the deal now that we were going away. We’d been fooling around for a while. Done everything but sex, and I was ready. More than ready. He’d said he didn’t want to rush us, but we were past the point of being rushed. It was time.

  I closed my suitcase and then wheeled it out to him. “Okay, now, I’m ready.”

  “Excellent.”

  He hopped off of the bed and wrapped his arms around me, pinning me back against the closet door. His lips were hot on mine. I wanted this and so much more. So fucking much more.

  My fingers drifted to the button of his jeans. I flicked it open, and he laughed gruffly against me.

  “Now, now…”

  I groaned. “Sam…”

  “We have a drive ahead of us. We should get going if we want to get there at a decent hour.”

  “What if I want to keep you and stay here?” I suggested.

  He kissed me again thoroughly. “Humor me.”

  I nodded my head with a small sigh. “All right. Will you tell me where we’re going then?”

  He grabbed my suitcase and then headed for the door.

  “Sam?” I begged, following behind.