Page 152 of My Dark Prince
I drizzled olive oil all over. “What do you mean, we can’t afford it?”
I already knew they couldn’t afford much of the accommodations and living arrangements. Two years ago, Dad got sacked from his job for embezzlement and sank his savings into legal fees to fight his victims that sued him. Luckily, Surval Montreux had offered me scholarships.
But for college, I thought I at least had tuition covered.
“Exactly what I said.” My mother slammed a drawer shut with her hip, waltzing over to the wine fridge and yanking a bottle of white by its neck. “The senator’s summer house was a last-ditch effort to get some financing going on, but he’s bed-ridden with some sort of illness. He wouldn’t even greet us. So rude.”
“But I’ve already been accepted.”
Dad stole to cover his gambling problem. That was why he hopped from one country to the next. Apparently, casinos all over the world had blacklisted him for his poor behavior whenever he lost.
“We have no money.” She poured herself a generous glass, gesturing around us. “In fact, we’re going to have to sell this summerhouse, too.”
At her words, I tried not to keel over.
All my memories with Oliver – lost.
I’d met him for the first time in this very house. Told him I loved him on the steps near the swings. Promised to marry him upstairs on the balcony.
Keep it together, Briar Rose. School is more important. Oliver would tell you that, too.
I turned to my mother, planting a hand on my hip. “This is huge for me, Mom.”
The wordmomfelt wrong in my mouth whenever I said it, but I still did, hoping if I used it enough times, it would start to feel true.
She pushed her hair back, screwing her mouth at the taste of the wine. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Well, I guess I can take out some loans …”
“You have no credit,” she pointed out, almostteasing. “And hell knows our credit is awful these days.”
“Mom.” I gasped. “I can’t give up Harvard. It’s my dream.”
Well, being next to Oliver was my dream. Harvard was just a bonus.
“Go get a scholarship or something.”
“It’s too late to apply.”
“What do you want me to say?” She banged her fist on the counter. “Go to another school, then.”
“I want Harvard.”
“And I want a husband who won’t lose all our money in the casino, sweetie. Mick Jagger wasn’t kidding when he said you can’t always get what you want.”
This was what she had to say to me?
I couldn’t believe it, and yet, I found it completely on brand.
Fine. Whatever. I wouldn’t be able to change her mind – orhis.
I ran up to my room, yanked my phone from its charger, and called Ollie. He would know what to do. Maybe he could even give me a loan. I would pay him back, of course. Every last penny.
As the phone rung, I threw myself on my futon and sniffled, brushing my tears away from my cheeks.
Three rings. Four rings. Five rings.
I glanced at the time. It was early on the East Coast. Why wasn’t he answering? Oliver always answered. Even if it was just to tell me he’d call me back in an hour or two. He’d done that a lot in the two weeks since Paris. With his hectic internship schedule, he showed up with dark bags under his eyes whenever we FaceTimed.
