Lia didn’t cry all the way home. A small miracle, but she was grateful for it. If she came home crying, her mother might see, and if her mother saw, she’d want to know why. As fragile as Lia was feeling, she knew she’d tell Mum everything. No, she would go home and take a long hot bath and go to bed and sleep for a couple days. And when she woke up, she’d get on with her life, because what else was there to do?
By the time Lia made it home, it was nearly ten. She must have lost a very long time in the fantasy world of Aethra and Poseidon. Usually after her jaunts with August, she’d felt high as a kite—happy and carefree, fearless and free. Not tonight. How unfair... August had to go and get engaged to some random girl. What a buzzkill.
See? She was making jokes about this awful situation already. Such a good English girl. Stiff upper lip. Never surrender. Keep calm and carry on. Churchill would be so proud of her.
Lia parked in front of the house and went in the front entrance, too tired and dejected and cold to bother hiding the fact she’d gone out. As she walked past the music room on her left, she heard laughter.
Her mother’s laugh, like she’d just been pinched in a tender spot.
Her father’s laugh, like he’d won a hand of poker and was raking in the chips.
And another laugh, like a man who’d just gotten away with murder.
David.