Chapter 292

Going back to Burberry Prep isn’t easy.

I almost stay home.

But Dad refuses to let me, helping me pack my suitcase and giving my wrist a squeeze as he looks me in the face with those stubborn brown eyes of his.

“I will be there for graduation, Marnye. That’s a promise.”

“I feel so guilty though,” I tell Creed as we sit in The Mess, and I stab a bit of egg, yellow goo flooding my plate. I can’t even eat it, though, not right now. Instead, I push the plate aside and give Isabella a small wave when she walks in. She doesn’t return it, but at least I get a small half-smile.

We have a long way to go, but we’ll get there.

After all, here I am sitting across from the pissed-off narcoleptic aristocrat, and he’s looking at me with a bit of something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. He says it’s love, and how can I deny that it could be? Four years we’ve struggled together, through all sorts of bullshit.

And in June, it’ll all come to an end.