gone now, the expression on her face betraying nothing.
“I figured it would be good for me to spend some time out of the apartment,” she said pointedly. She gave Noah a look, as if the two of them were in on some kind of secret. “Charlotte seemed very upset last night. I’m so glad you two were able to patch things up.”
“I am, too.” Noah’s jaw twitched. He walked over to the bar in the corner and pulled out two glass tumblers and a bottle of scotch. He opened the bottle and filled one of the tumblers a quarter full, the other halfway.
“She really wasn’t herself,” my mom continued, obviously digging around to see if I’d told Noah about our fight and if so, what he thought about my bad behavior.
“It was an upsetting night for everyone,” Noah said, capping the bottle of scotch. “Thankfully, it’s all in the past.”
“Yes, well,” my mother said. Her hand went to her cheek and she ran her fingers over it. “Luckily I had my heavy duty foundation with me so that I could cover up the marks.”
“What marks?” I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“The marks your hand left on my cheek,” she said. “When you slapped me last night.” She shook her head at Noah and gave a hollow little laugh. “Of course, you know our Charlotte. She gets carried away sometimes. She’s always been that way.”
Noah looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I raised my eyebrows back at him and gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head, as if to say, “ She was awful and she deserved it and I’ll explain later.”
He must have gotten the message.
“Charlotte has been through a lot this morning,” he said. “She’s going to need to keep her stress to a minimum.” His voice was commanding, his intent to my mother clear.
“Why?” my mom asked. “What happened this morning?” She sounded vaguely bored, as if there was no way it could be all that interesting.
“Colin Worthington escaped from jail.” Noah crossed the kitchen and handed me the tumbler with the least amount of Scotch in it.
I wrinkled my nose. “No, thank you.”
“Drink it, Charlotte.”
I sighed and took a sip, wincing as the dark liquid burned my throat.
“What?” my mom asked. Her hand flew to her heart and she glanced around, like she was expecting to see Professor Worthington in the apartment, pointing a gun at her. “The man who tried to kill you?”
“Yes, the one I’m apparently dating,” I said, not able to keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice.
“Charlotte, there’s no need to be smart.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I could tell she was still upset about what happened last night. I was still upset, too. But you’d think that the fact that a man who had tried to kill her daughter was on the loose would have made her a bit more willing to bury the hatchet.
Instead, she got a little glint in her eye, a glint I noticed and recognized. It was the look she got when she was about to go in for the kill and really stick it to someone, usually one her society friends who was trying to one up her.
She picked up an envelope from the table and held it out to me.
“This came for you this morning,” she said. “Certified mail, so I signed for it.”
I took the envelope from her hand. The Middleton University seal was pressed into the top right corner, along with the address for the Office of Academic Excellence, which was just a fancy way of saying the department that was in charge of disciplining people.
The envelope was unsealed.
“You opened it?” I asked her incredulously.
“Of course not,” she lied. “It came like that.” She glanced at her watch. “Well! I better get going. I don’t want to be late.” She turned to Noah. “Noah, I’m so glad you and Charlotte have patched things up. I explained to her how men in your position are used to a certain level of freedom and therefore expect certain things. I hope Charlotte will be enough for you.”
Noah’s eyes darkened. “I
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