Your Fault (Culpable Book 2)

No fucking way.

The look I gave that woman was enough to knock my father off guard. Noah glanced at me for a few seconds, unable to speak.

“Mom, have you lost your mind?” she finally managed to whisper.

Why is she being like that? Why the hell isn’t she telling her that not in her wildest dreams would she go to the other end of the world and spend the whole summer without me?

“You’re growing up. Soon you’ll be off to college…” Raffaella said, carefully avoiding me. Good for her. I’ll bet one look at me would have made her freeze from terror. “I think it’s the last chance we’ll have to do something like this together, and maybe you’re not as excited about it as I am, b-but…” Then she burst into tears.

I took a sip of wine, trying to control my rage. I was squeezing Noah’s hand so tight, it must have cut off her circulation, but it was either that or lose my shit and start blurting out all the curse words I was struggling to keep down.

My father looked askance at me for a moment and brought his glass to his lips. Had this been his idea? Had he been the one to put that ridiculous notion into his wife’s head?

Why the hell was I even asking? Of course it had been him; he was the one paying for the damn trip.

Just then, my last hope faded away.

“Of course I want to go, Mom,” Noah said, and her words were like a slap to the face.

Did I not have any say in that decision? Why the hell was I even sitting there?

I let go of her hand. I was getting more and more pissed off. I had to go, or else I was going to let everything fly. But going wouldn’t solve a thing, I realized, nor would starting a scene; not if I wanted to be taken seriously, anyway… What I needed to do was stay there and make my opinion known, tell them they weren’t just going to up and steal a month from my girlfriend and me.

Noah turned to face me. I could see she was as tormented by the news as I was… that, at least, was something.

Before Raffaella could say another word, I interrupted her.

“You don’t think you should have checked with us before booking the trip?”

It had taken all the willpower I had to formulate that question in the calm tone of voice I’d used.

Raffaella looked at me, and when I saw her eyes, it was evident that any hope I’d had that Noah’s mother would accept me as her boyfriend had vanished. She didn’t want me to have Noah. There was no more doubting that.

“Nicholas, she’s my daughter and she’s just turned eighteen. She’s still just a girl, and I want to take a vacation with her. Is that so hard to understand?”

Before I could reply, Noah jumped to my defense:

“Mom, I’m not a girl anymore, okay?” She flicked her hair back and continued. “And you shouldn’t talk to Nick that way. He’s my boyfriend, and he has every right in the world not to be happy about the trip.”

To say I wasn’t happy was the understatement of the year, but I let her go on talking.

Raffaella’s eyes were damp. Her face made me sick to my stomach.

“I’ll go with you, Mom.”

What?

“But next time, either we all go, or none of us do,” Noah added, unaware of how those words were echoing in my brain or how all at once, I’d started to see red.

Her mother smiled, but I felt feverish and had to stand. Despite my father’s look of admonishment, I announced that I was leaving. I tried to control my voice, but my hands were clenched into fists, and what I wanted most was to hit someone. I didn’t even know if I wanted Noah to leave with me. I was every bit as pissed at her as I was at her mother.

“Nicholas, sit down,” my father ordered, not wanting to draw attention to us. Always worried about appearances, always with that disappointed expression. I took off toward the door, not even stopping to wait for Noah. I needed to get outside and take a breath of fresh air.

I headed for the car, but I realized I didn’t have the keys—why in the hell hadn’t I taken my own car? I turned around and leaned on the driver’s side door and saw Noah walking toward me. She couldn’t keep up with me in high heels. I took out a cigarette and lit it. She’d probably bitch about it. I didn’t care.

When she reached me, her cheeks red, trying to meet my eyes, I looked away toward the people entering and exiting the restaurant.

“Nicholas…”

I didn’t answer. I just listened to her breathing, and after a moment, I looked down.

“What did you want me to do?” she asked.

I grunted. A month, a whole month without Noah: all my plans, all the stuff I’d wanted to do with her, all that was in the trash can. I was going to take a trip with her; we were going to see the sights; I’d thought I’d make love with her every single day that summer, enjoy her company, but no, she hadn’t even hesitated to accept her mother’s gift. It hurt because I thought I would come first for her, and I’d been wrong.

“Give me the keys. I’ll take you to your party.”

I knew she wanted to talk, but the thought of her being gone, the thought of her being taken from me, even if it was just a month, was eating away at me, and of course, there was nothing I could do about it.

After standing there in silence, she reached into her purse, handed me the keys, and walked around to the passenger side.

It was for the best. If she’d decided to argue with me, I wasn’t going to be responsible for what I said.