Defiant Princess (Boys of Oak Park Prep 2)

“Fine.” I bit my lip, already beginning to regret my decision. “I’ll meet you. But we meet where I say, and we talk about what I want.”

“Of course. Of course!” he promised in a rush, relief clear in his tone.

I told him to meet me in an hour at a little cafe in Roseland that I’d been to with Leah once, then ended the call before I could change my mind. After dropping my backpack off at my dorm, I called an Uber and went to the drive on south side of Craydon to meet it.

Traffic was light, and I was twenty minutes early—but Philip was already there. He stood so fast when he saw me that he almost knocked over the little round table he was sitting at, and when I approached, his body stuttered forward and back, like he wasn’t quite sure how to greet me.

I wasn’t sure either, to be honest, so all I did was wave. Then we sank into chairs opposite each other.

Philip didn’t look good. He looked older than I remembered, his face worn and haggard. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and he looked like maybe he’d lost weight. But he smiled when he looked at me, a disbelieving expression on his face.

“Thank you for meeting me. I—I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t,” I said honestly, and he dropped his head, shame twisting his features.

“I’m sorry, Talia,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you said.”

It was the most civil response I could give. It hurt to hear those words, because I’d been learning slowly not to believe them—not to trust changes of heart or overtures of peace. But a part of me still wanted to.

He insisted on buying me a latte, and a snide, bitter part of me wondered if he’d hide the receipt from Jacqueline. When he settled back into his chair, I met his gaze.

“Tell me about my mother.”

His brows drew together, and pain flashed in his eyes. But I’d told him we would talk about what I wanted to talk about, and he seemed to remember that. He drew in a deep breath, meeting my gaze.

“She was smart. Driven. Like you. She was always a little rebellious, and she and your grandmother butted heads all through her teen years. But after she graduated high school and went through college, things got better. Then…” He stared down into his cup. “They got worse.”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let the heaviness of his voice stop me. I’d been told vague snippets and little half-truths by him and Jacqueline the whole time I lived with them. I wanted the whole fucking story for once.

“How?” I pressed.

“She… she changed. Everything was wonderful. She had you. She and her friends were thick as thieves, all having kids around the same time. They started their own company. Then, out of nowhere, she became like a different person. She turned on her friends, on your grandmother and me. She seemed to hate all of us, and I could never quite figure out why.”

“And then she left?”

He nodded. “Eventually. She st

ayed for about a year, and things got worse and worse. The company fell apart. Her relationships crumbled. She said things to your mother, to me, that were—” His dull blue eyes were glassy as he blinked quickly. “But still. We should’ve tried to stop her. Should’ve tried to find her. She needed help, mental and emotional help, and we were too angry to see it.”

Philip trailed off, gazing at the table but not really seeming to see it.

“Grandpa.” The word felt strange on my tongue. “Are you okay?”

He jerked out of his thoughts, lifting his head to look at me again. “Oh. Of course. I’m fine. Fine.”

We talked for another hour, and he let me guide the conversation entirely. There was no question I asked that he refused to answer, and as we stood up to leave, he thanked me for coming. His face was still drawn and wan, but a little spark of light had returned to his eyes as we spoke, and when he asked if I would meet him again sometime, I told him I’d think about it.

He offered to drive me back to campus, but I refused.

The whole ride back though, I stared out the window, my mind whirling with thoughts of my mother, of my grandparents, of the Princes and their families.

I found myself thinking about forgiveness and resentment, and who holding onto anger really hurts the most.

Chapter 10

My leg lifted gracefully in the air, and I held onto the barre lightly, keeping my spine long and my neck relaxed. I’d been practicing every day since the first week of school, and the work I’d been putting in showed.