HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL
IMANI
Dinner was unusually calm.
The clinking of cutlery, the hum of small talk, the way Mom, kept her fake sweet smile plastered on her face. I chewed slowly, wishing I could melt into my chair and disappear.
“So,” Declan began, setting down his glass of wine, “this weekend getaway to Seychelles… Sharon and I finally booked everything. It’s going to be beautiful.”
My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
Seychelles. That sounded like paradise. But I knew better than to imagine myself there.