I just sat there. Perfectly still.
When he finished wiping it down, he wrapped the earring in a clean tissue, placed it gently in the glove compartment, and only then turned to look at me.
"What are you sitting there for? I told you to move to the back seat. Did you not hear me?"
Something in my brain finally reconnected.
"Don't bother. I'll get a cab."
"Fine," Adam said. "I have a company gala tonight anyway. I need to take her to pick out a gown. Get yourself home."
He let me out of the car and hit the gas, tearing off into the rain without a backward glance.
It was pouring. An absolute downpour.
He didn't even toss me an umbrella.
I made it to the bus stop soaked through to the bone. Every person waiting there looked at me like I was out of my mind.
And maybe I was. Because even now, even after all of that, my stupid brain kept replaying every kind thing Adam Sanchez had ever done for me.
The truth about my mother came out the year I turned eighteen. She was the other woman.