A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: A Lancaster Prep Novel
A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: Chapter 44

I’M a prisoner in my own home. Forgotten. Neglected. Daddy demanded I come home and I did as he asked, leaving Lancaster the moment I finished my history final. The second final scheduled was for psychology, and I already did my presentation with Crew, thank goodness. It was easy for Daddy to call into the administration office and have me excused early.

And now here I am, in the sterile apartment with my sterile parents. It’s only been a few days since I came home, and already, I’ve just become another piece of furniture. Or maybe I’m a painting hanging on the wall.

Pretty to look at. Enough to invest in. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter.

It’s Saturday, and I’m bored. Restless. I slept a lot the first couple of days. It was either that or cry, especially since my father took my phone away from me the moment I arrived. I can’t communicate with anyone.

Crew.

He probably hates me. Thinks I’m a little baby who can’t stand up for herself. I pretty much proved that by the dumb things I said to him when we got into that fight. Was it even a fight? I don’t know how to describe it. All I know is I’m devastated that it had to end like this. With my father witnessing the photos, seeing me lying there naked with Crew, even though nothing is shown in the photo.

It was so obvious though. The image is imprinted on my brain. I can see the way my head is lying on his bare shoulder, our lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes. My own naked shoulders, making it obvious I have no clothes on. The rumpled sheet beneath us.

I miss him. My heart aches to see him. Talk to him.

Yet, I’m trapped.

Giving up on my pity party for one, I leave my bedroom and wander around the apartment, glaring at every piece of art I pass by. My parents—specifically my mother—care more about the art hanging on their walls than about me. She hasn’t come to talk to me once since I’ve come home. No reassuring words like, “I’ll speak to your father,” or even a, “You’ll be okay,” mentioned.

She’s letting me suffer on my own.

I approach her sitting room, hearing the voices coming from the open doorway, and I pause, pressing myself against the wall when I realize it’s my parents.

And they’re talking about me.

“When are you going to give her phone back?” Mom asks.

“If I had my choice, never,” Daddy mutters, the disgust clear in his voice.

“She’s almost eighteen. Just give it back to her. What’s the worst that could happen if she has it?”

“That boy will text her. Call her. He’s been doing it nonstop since I took the phone from her.”

My heart swells with hope. He hasn’t given up on me.

“At least he’s persistent.”

“That means nothing. She had sex with him, Cecily. Of course he’s persistent. He’s hoping for more,” Daddy explains.

I wince, hating how he thinks Crew only cares about me because we had sex. When it felt like so much more than that…

“Well, she attracted a Lancaster, which I have to admit is a solid choice. At least she picked well,” Mom says.

“She should’ve never done that. She promised herself to me,” Daddy says vehemently.

“Your archaic ways can’t stick forever and you know it. She’s a beautiful girl. Smart. Interesting. It doesn’t surprise me at all that Crew wanted to land her in his bed.”

I’m shocked by my mother’s words. She thinks I’m beautiful? Smart? Interesting? Most of the time she acts as if she can barely stand me.

“Don’t say that,” Daddy says bitterly. “I can’t stand the idea of her being with him.”

“Well, it’s true! She’s almost a woman, Harvey. You’re going to have to let her go sometime. You two have a very close relationship, but if you prevent her from seeing this boy, she’ll resent you,” Mom says. “Give her the phone back. Let her talk to him. We’ll see what happens. She’s a wise girl. She won’t make a stupid decision.”

“We don’t know that. I’ve protected her all these years. It terrifies me, thinking of her on her own. Making bad choices, putting herself at risk.” He sounds tortured, and I immediately feel bad.

“You’ve created this by protecting her for far too long. Give her back that phone. Tell her you’re sorry for invading her privacy. And let her make her own choices, her own mistakes. If we’ve done anything right, she’ll do well. Like I said, she’s a smart girl. She can handle herself, and this boy. And if he breaks her heart, then so be it. That’s life. She’ll hurt, she’ll heal and she’ll move on.”

Tears prick the corner of my eyes, listening to my mother’s support. If I could, I’d run into that room and hug her. Thank her for believing in me when my father still refuses to.

Instead, I return to my room and stare out the window, watching the rain fall. It splatters against the glass with the wind, the clouds a dark threatening gray, and I hold my old teddy bear to my chest as I sit curled up on my bed.

There’s a soft knock on my door and then my mother appears, a kind smile on her face. “May I come in?”

I nod, not saying anything.

She glides in, holding something behind her back. “A package came for you.”

I frown. “Really?”

“Yes.” She holds it out in front of me and I frown at the small white box, wondering who it came from. She waves it at me. “Take it.”

I do as she says, opening the box carefully by pulling off the lid.

“It was delivered by courier,” Mom says as she watches me. “From someone local, I assume.”

I push back the layers of white tissue to reveal a small black box. Picking it up, I read the label.

“It’s Chanel,” Mom says. “Looks like lipstick.”

I immediately know who it’s from.

The lipstick is Chanel Rouge Allure Luminous Intense Lip Colour. I open the small box and pull out the tube, taking the cap off and rolling it up to see it’s an intense, crimson red.

“Looks like 99 Pirate.” I glance up at my mother in confusion. “It’s their iconic red. I own it.”

I’m not surprised. My mother likes wearing bright red lipstick, and she can do it well.

“Who would send you that?” she asks.

I send her a look but don’t speak. And I can tell she knows.

“He has good taste,” she says with a faint smile. “He should, considering how much he’s worth.”

I smile. I can’t help it.

“I won’t tell your father. It’ll be our little secret,” she says as she heads for my door. “I’ve also been trying to convince him to give you your phone back. He can’t treat you like a little girl forever.”

She’s about to exit my bedroom when I call out to her.

“Mom?” She turns to look at me, her delicate brows drawn together. “Thank you.”

Her smile is slow. “You’re welcome, darling. I think the color could look good on you. Give it a try.”

“I will.”

Once she closes the door, I cap the lipstick and search the box, replaceing a small envelope buried at the bottom. I pull the card out with shaking fingers, recognizing the bold handwriting immediately.

You can kiss me with this color the next time we’re together. It’ll show up on my skin better.

X,

Crew

I close my eyes, my lips curling into a smile. Oh my God.

Oh my God.

I hop off the bed and go to my bathroom, opening the lipstick once more and applying it to my lips, careful to keep my hand steady. When I’m finished, I take a step back, staring at myself in my gray sweats, my hair in a sloppy bun on top of my head, and my lips painted a bright crimson.

With the right outfit and makeup, I think I’d look pretty.

Like I’m all grown up.

It’s at dinnertime when my father finally hands over my phone, his expression grave as he gives me a lecture about responsibility and doing the right thing.

I just keep my head bowed and nod occasionally, enduring the speech I’ve heard so many times over the years. My mother interjects every once in a while trying to defend me, as if that’s going to get him to stop.

It doesn’t, but I appreciate her support.

“Do I still have to stay home?” I ask when he’s finished speaking. “Or can I go out?”

“Who do you want to go out with?”

Do I even need to say?

I shrug one shoulder. “Friends.”

“Anyone specific?”

“Harvey,” Mom snaps. “Leave her alone. Yes, darling, you’re allowed to go out. I’m sure you have plenty of friends to see and catch up with.”

Daddy sighs heavily. “Fine. You may go out, Pumpkin. Not too late though.”

If I could roll my eyes without consequences, I would. But I keep myself under control. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank your mother. She’s the one who convinced me I need to give you more freedom,” Daddy mutters.

I glance up to replace her watching me and I mouth a silent thanks. I’m so glad she’s an ally. I can’t remember the last time she’s been on my side.

We eat dinner, my parents talking while I stare at my phone, wondering what mysteries it might contain. Who’s texted me? According to my father, I know Crew has. How many times, and what did he say? Does he still want to see me? He must want to, considering what he said in that note.

My lips are still stained with that lipstick. Talk about long lasting. Daddy either didn’t notice or didn’t want to acknowledge it, and neither did Mom, but I’m sure they can tell I’m wearing lipstick, something I never do.

There are a lot of things I haven’t done until lately.

Most of them thanks to Crew.

Once dinner is finished, I escape to my room, wanting to be in there for the first time since I came home. I immediately see a string of texts from Crew, most of them asking how I am. Where I am. Why I won’t talk to him. And if I’m ignoring him on purpose or if my dad took my phone away.

I’m sure that text made my father burn with anger.

I also have texts from Maggie and I read them, hating that I missed them.

Maggie: I saw Fig got arrested. I had everything to do with that, and while I regret everything that happened, I don’t regret that. I’m sorry if I treated you badly. I was going through a lot and I know I snapped at you that one time when you walked in on us. I was just jealous. Our relationship was so toxic. I’m glad to be away from him. I hope you understand. Maybe we can get together over break?

She sent another text the next day.

Maggie: Or maybe not. I hope you’re not mad at me.

Before I respond to Crew, I send a text to Maggie, wanting her to know what happened. I explain how my father took my phone away and how scared and worried I’ve been for her. And that I’m glad she’s doing okay. I don’t bring up the baby, or the arrest that I witnessed. When she’s ready to talk about all of it, I know she’ll tell me.

Me: I miss you, Mags. Let’s definitely try and get together over break. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner. Just know I’m here for you no matter what.

She responds almost immediately.

Maggie: I can’t believe he took away your phone! Then again, I can. Your dad has always been kind of strict. Let’s get together in the next few days. I’m already bored and dying to hang out with you.

Me: Sounds good. We have lots to catch up on.

I smile, telling myself I really need to make sure and meet up with Maggie in the next couple of days. Sounds like she needs a friend.

I need one too.

I contemplate how I should approach Crew next, but first things first. Going into my phone’s settings, I change my password for my iCloud. No way do I want my father spying on me anymore.

It’s still hard for me to believe he did that. Such a violation of my privacy. Especially when I had no idea he was doing it. How many times did he check up on me? Scroll through my photos, my texts, my email? Nothing was off-limits to him and it hurts so much, that he would spy on me like that.

Finally, I come up with something to say in my notes and I copy and paste it into the text box and then send it, my heart pounding in my throat the entire time.

Me: I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you sooner. The moment I got home my parents took my phone away from me. That’s why I haven’t texted or called. I hope you understand. I’m sorry about our fight we had before I left. I feel so awful about everything that happened, but the one thing I never feel awful about is you. I don’t regret what happened last weekend. I wish we could do it again. I miss you so much. Thank you for the lipstick. I can’t wait to wear it for you.

I’m gnawing on my lip, staring at our text thread when the gray bubble appears, indicating he’s responding. My nerves amp up, leaving me feeling sick, and I hope to God I don’t throw up the dinner I just ate.

What if he says he’s through with me? That he doesn’t care anymore? I can’t half blame him. I haven’t talked to or texted him since Tuesday. But he is the one who also sent me a gift today…

Crew: I want to see you.

A little sigh leaves me and I can’t contain the smile spreading across my face.

Me: I want to see you too.

Crew: Tomorrow?

Me: Yes. Tomorrow.