Session 𝓢eventy-Four

Session 74:
"The Unknown"

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The early morning sun glowed around me, reflecting against the white covers tangled around us.

The pillow barrier that I placed between us was long gone.

We naturally pushed it away once we got back from our late-night McDonald's run.

Our bare bodies were entangled as if they were only ever destined to find each other.

My cheek was pressed to the softness of her chest, our legs tangled beneath the warm covers.

I had awoken to Monroe gently playing with my curls, her breath soft against my shoulder that she rested her cheek against.

At some point, we were fully awake and aware that we were both conscious.

Yet we sat there silently, wrapped in each other's warmth.

It was our calmest morning yet in New York.

Moments like these are what romanticized it all for me.

Then I remember the literal villains wandering around the same estate as us.

Monroe's parents.

Knowing they exist around us is enough to ruin the entire trip.

I smiled slightly when I felt the softness of her lips against my bare shoulder, lightly kissing my skin.

A hum vibrated in my throat, stretching one of my legs out.

"Good morning, Ro Ro," I whispered softly, tucking my leg back under one of hers.

"Good morning," she murmured against my shoulder, kissing my smooth skin again, "Lovely morning, actually."

My smile grew wider. "So lovely," I repeated her words, tracing my fingertips up her spine.

"Are you hungry, darling?" Monroe asked me.

"Starving," I mumbled, pulling away from her chest.

Monroe looked breathtaking in the morning.

Her tired blue eyes looked lighter in the golden sun, her silky brown hair messy in the cutest way.

This is something I would like to get used to until the end of time.

Or maybe I'm just deathly lesbian, and Monroe is my kryptonite.

"Starving?" Monroe said with furrowed brows, her blue eyes trailing my face, "I didn't realize, darling. I can have breakfast sent up within thirty minutes."

I quickly shook my head, "No, silly," I smiled, gently pushing her shoulders so she laid flat on the bed beside me, "You are the breakfast."

Monroe lazily smiled as I sat up, climbing on top of her and straddling her hips.

"My eager girl," she softly murmured, tracing her fingertips delicately up one of my thighs. "You always look perfect in the morning."

I hummed softly, glancing down when her hand subtly traveled to my inner thigh.

I immediately reached down, grabbing her hand and removing it from my body entirely.

"You need to feed me," I said with a narrowed look.

Monroe tilted her head so effortlessly at me, her jawline sharpening, "Go on," she said, "Feed yourself, darling."

I smiled immediately, "Thank you, baby," I said, leaning down to briefly kiss her lips, "You're the best."

She hummed softly in acknowledgment as I pulled away, slipping under the covers and angling myself between her thighs.

Monroe lifted her legs over my shoulders, pulling me in closer to her core.

I smiled as she spread her thighs wider apart for me, welcoming me back where I belonged.

"Be still, baby," I told her as I leaned down, "I might be a while."

I heard her softly gasp the moment my lips made contact with her soft folds, her hips curving into me like muscle memory.

"I'm all yours, darling," Monroe breathed out, reaching her fingers down to gently tangle in my curls.

I eagerly ran my tongue up her folds, dipping in at her entrance just to get a better taste.

Monroe moaned softly in response, caressing her fingers against the back of my head with encouragement.

"Good girl. Keep going for me," she praised, making everything around me burn.

I ran my hands up her smooth stomach, sucking down on her clit and dragging another beautiful moan from her.

"Yes, Liberty," Monroe breathed out when I began flicking my tongue against her clit.

I hummed in response, flicking even faster as I dug my short nails into her firm stomach.

Monroe moaned deeper as I kept a steady pace against her, savoring how wet she was getting for me.

I could feel her warmth against my chin.

And she only got wetter the more I played with her, her hips rocking into me as she moaned my name in encouragement.

Yes, I wanted to make her orgasm, but I also wanted to truly taste her.

I wanted to feel her for minutes on end.

So I purposely dragged out her orgasm, switching up my rhythms and speed.

I even switched between her clit and her soaking entrance, nearly slurping the wetness seeping out of her. 

In my head, she was the last source of food, and I needed her to survive.

"Liberty," Monroe sighed out, frustration clear in her tone.

"A few more minutes," I murmured, caressing my hands against her stomach as I sucked down on her clit again.

"Now. Or not at all," she said, tugging sharply at my roots and making me whimper against her, "Or you can watch while I finish myself off, darling."

I immediately flicked my tongue against her, my pace fast as I sucked down again.

Monroe arched into me, her moans soft and breathless.

"Perfect—yes, Liberty," she moaned out, tugging more at my curls, "My god, you're such a good girl."

I moaned against her, keeping my fast pace steady as her legs trembled against my shoulders.

Then I felt her body tense up entirely as she panted for air, beautiful moans burning in the back of her throat.

I hummed at the wetness seeping throughout her soft folds, slowing my pace down to help her ride out the long-awaited orgasm.

Her moans grew softer and her body loosened as seconds passed, shivering as I ran my tongue down her core.

"There you go, darling," she softly whispered, relaxing against me as she massaged the roots of my hair she previously tugged at, "Finish your food."

I smiled against her, "Can I have seconds?" I whispered innocently against her.

"Good girls can have anything they want, Liberty," she murmured, caressing the back of my head.

My smile widened from her words, naturally sliding my tongue past her entrance to carry on as I pleased.

The sheets were thoroughly ruined beneath us, but that wasn't stopping me.

I had a few servings of 'breakfast', eating her out until my jaw physically ached.

Then I rested my cheek against her inner thigh, closing my tired eyes with a deep sigh.

It felt like I had gotten drunk off of her, and now all I could do was sleep the buzz off.

Monroe didn't move either—we somehow fell asleep again in that position for another couple of hours.

I halfway woke up to shift up from under the covers, burying my face in her chest as she unconsciously wrapped her arms around me.

My dreams were finally normal again.

At least last night and this morning.

The nightmares come in waves, but I'm hoping my subconscious is at ease now that Monroe cleared everything up for me.

It seems like everything is okay again, given I slept like a baby.

The only downside was how sore my jaw felt when I woke up again.

It was enough to make me groan, squeezing my eyes shut as I shifted in her arms.

"Darling," I heard her tiredly mumble, running her hand down my back, "What is it?"

"My jaw," I breathed out, opening my mouth to stretch my tight jaw better, "It hurts."

Monroe instinctively lifted her hand to my cheek, grazing her fingertips against my jawline.

I drew in a deep breath when she angled her fingers against my jawline, massaging the soreness away.

I gripped her tighter as she continued kneading away the tension for me, holding me firmly against her by my waist.

The more she massaged and kneaded, the more relaxed I grew, drifting off into another light sleep as she tended to my soreness.

I laid still in her arms for minutes on end, the tension in my jaw slowly fading.

The next time I woke up, it was time to get ready for the horse races.

I also called Zion back to check in about last night, but he and Sarai only wanted to discuss graduation stuff, like parties and a trip.

Otherwise, everything was in order, so I told them we could discuss it tomorrow. 

Lunch with them was exactly what I needed after this weekend. 

I just had to get through the horse races, which already intimidated me because I wasn't sure what to wear.

I searched for ideas, and everything was so sleek and elegant.

Then again, Monroe took it upon herself to pick out both of our outfits anyway, so I didn't have to think too hard about the dress code.

I ended up wearing a black skirt with a matching turtleneck and a black long-sleeve blazer lined with elegant cheetah fur over top.

Monroe helped me with my black stockings, slipping my short heels on for me.

Then I focused on her, helping her with the short black trench coat she wore over her blouse.

She also wore black dress pants, matching with me entirely.

The black Valentino belt with a shiny gold V cinched her small waist over the jacket—she even slid on leather gloves and handed me a pair to match with her.

I may or may not have picked out matching dark sunglasses for us ,too.

But it looked so good with our outfits.

I felt intimidating.

Especially as we walked down the estate hallways, our heels smoothly clicking and our suitcases handled by the staff following along behind us.

Monroe kept her arm secured around my waist, holding me close by her side.

We already planned to eat breakfast there to avoid running into her parents further.

At least until later, since they would likely be at the races.

"How far are we walking, baby?" I asked with furrowed brows, noticing we had passed through four garages now.

I felt bad for the people lugging our suitcases behind us.

"We're almost there," Monroe murmured, her eyes trailing the large garage of vintage-looking cars as she slowly halted her steps.

I stopped beside her, wondering what she was looking for.

Whatever it was seemed to be under a black cover.

It was a car, of course.

A much older car that hadn't been driven in years, given the dust that wafted in the air when Monroe cleanly tugged the cover away.

It was a vintage white Mercedes with a brown leather interior.

The car was polished so well that it nearly glistened under the fluorescent garage lights.

Even the expensive gold rims on it looked custom.

"Wow," I murmured, "It's so pretty—totally worth the walk."

"This was my first car, darling," Monroe said, turning to me with a subtle smile, "I made them find this exact model. There's only one out of three in the world."

I glanced over to the car again with a growing smile, processing that this was the car she drove when she was a teenager.

With her parents' money, she could've had the newest car at the time, but Monroe opted for the rarest vintage car she could find.

That's my baby. 

"I love it," I murmured with a wide smile, "It looks like something you would drive."

Monroe's beautiful smile grew, "I can't wait to drive you in it, darling," she said as she walked to the passenger side, her heels clicking crisply against the pavement, "You'll look perfect in my passenger seat."

My face grew warm from her words alone, walking over to her as she opened the door for me.

I briefly kissed her cheek before slipping inside, settling into the soft leather.

The car even smelled vintage.

I'm not sure how.

Everything looked concerningly clean.

The brown leather was shiny and soft, and the carpet looked as if it had been freshly vacuumed.

I glanced around the car with a happy smile, feeling thankful that Monroe even shared this piece of her life with me.

It always felt so hard to imagine her younger.

I had seen pictures, of course, but I could never actually imagine what she was like back then.

She always looked as controlled as usual in any old pictures, her posture strict and her chin held high, as she was probably taught repetitively.

I glanced over when Monroe opened the driver's door, the staff carefully closing the trunk that they previously slid our luggage into.

Monroe reached over to buckle my seatbelt for me before I had a chance, softly kissing my lips as she pulled the strap across my body.

I smiled as she pulled away and reached for her own seatbelt to buckle.

Then she pressed the button to open the garage, twisting the keys into the ignition.

The car naturally revved to life— I could even feel it vibrate perfectly underneath me.

It was a stick shift, yet Monroe handled it with ease.

It was probably one of the most attractive things I had witnessed her do.

All I could do was sit back and watch like some horny girl wanting to give her head at the nearest stoplight.

She had altered my brain chemistry.

This car altered my brain chemistry.

It was the way she drove it, how the sky was blue, and the countryside roads whipped past us.

I didn't care that it was decently cold.

I put my window halfway down anyway, sticking my arm out to flow with the path of the wind.

My arm was covered, and the gloves I wore ensured I didn't feel the harsh wind.

It was perfect.

Especially when Monroe briefly glanced over to me, tilting her head down so her beautiful blue eyes aligned with mine over her sunglasses.

Then she smiled at me, in the most effortless way.

It was a sight that made me feel weak in my knees, butterflies swarming in my lower stomach.

It also sent me into a realization.

Monroe is truly the only one for me.

There was no doubt behind it, only full acceptance, even if it held so much unknown.

But having her and the unknown is way better than having anyone else in the known.

I've never felt so set on something before.

Or someone, at least.

"Liz already secured us seats inside," Monroe said as we walked through the multi-level parking garage.

"Okay, Mon," I purposely teased her.

Monroe scrunched up her nose in the cutest way, "Don't call me that," she said.

I dramatically parted my lips, "Why not?" I asked, taking more offense than I should.

But I call her so many different nicknames, and she's never complained before.

Is the one with Eliza special?

I mean, I know they've been friends for over half my life, but it still made something sting inside of me.

"She's like a sister, darling," Monroe said, running her hand up my back in reassurance, "You calling me that is very odd, to say the least."

I tilted my head, "Oh, I get it," I said, realizing that, sure, it might've been a special nickname.

But it was more about Monroe being reminded of her sisterly dynamic with Eliza.

And I'm her...

Well, soon-to-be girlfriend.

So it feels weird.

I get it, honestly.

It's like Monroe calling me sun or sunny, like my dad always called me.

Even if he were still alive, it would make me feel weirded out if she used that nickname.

I glanced around as we walked in, taking in the tall columns and glossy marble floors. 

The whole place had that old-money feel, like it hadn’t changed in decades.

It still managed to look so expensive.

In the main area, people were gathered on low couches, talking in small groups, like they all knew each other.

Or at least knew how to play the part and fake their kindness. 

Toward the back, there was a row of booths with workers behind the glass, focused on their screens. 

It didn’t take long to figure out that’s where the betting happened, especially as Monroe guided me over. 

Monroe stepped up to one of the booths like she’d done it a thousand times, leaning in to speak with one of the workers behind the glass. 

She didn’t hesitate or second-guess, calmly reading off a few names and numbers like she already knew how the races would go. 

The worker punched it all in, handed her a stack of printed slips, and she barely glanced at them before tucking them into her coat pocket.

Then she turned to me, sliding one of the betting slips to me. “Pick one, darling,” she murmured, setting a pen in front of me on the wood ledge.

I smiled slightly, scanning the list of horses on the screen beside us. 

Half the names sounded made up: Lightning Vow, Arctic Halo, Red Vixen. 

A two-year-old could've named them better. 

I picked the Friesian-bred horse—it had silky fur and strong legs. 

It looked so cute. 

"Seventeen thousand," Monroe calmly told the woman behind the glass, making my brows shoot up. 

"Wait-wait," I quickly said, blinking awkwardly when Monroe glanced at me, "I um, I'm not that confident, Ro."

She only smiled at me in response, "I find that hard to believe," she softly whispered, pulling me closer by my waist. "You're the lucky charm, darling."

My face grew warm from her words alone, but I had to focus. 

I didn't want her to lose that much money on my guess. 

I just found the horse cute—I didn't even look at the statistics. 

"What if it loses?" I asked, lowering my voice between us. 

"What if it wins?" she challenged back, her lips twitching up further as she eyed my face. 

I let out a stressful sigh when the worker slid one of the slips beneath the window, locking in the bet Monroe just made. 

I can't believe she just did that so casually. 

Now I officially felt fucking nervous for these races. 

I honestly didn't plan to fully tune in on it, but now I'm definitely going to be watching. 

My nerves were a tangled fucking mess as we headed upstairs to the second level, where the real view was. 

The second floor opened up into a wide, circular lounge, almost too polished for what it overlooked. 

Half the outer wall was glass, floor to ceiling, giving a clear view of the race tracks below. 

It was the kind of design that made you feel like you were floating above it all. 

Outside, the track was wide, muddy in certain places, but framed with perfectly trimmed grass that looked like it had been cut with scissors. 

It was all a little too neat. 

Beyond the track, the mountains stretched out in the distance, and the sun had come out just enough to make everything look a little unreal.

I naturally glanced over, noticing Eliza approaching us in a chocolate brown blazer with stockings and heels, her short dark hair down and framing her face.

"You made it," was the first thing Eliza said, leaning in to briefly hug Monroe and then me.

I smiled as we pulled back from the brief hug, "It's nice to see you again," I said as Monroe kept her arm around my waist.

"It's really nice," Eliza didn't hesitate to say with a smile, "The races are always fun."

"Only if you're winning," Monroe clarified, making Eliza chuckle.

Meanwhile, it made the knots in my stomach grow, even if I knew she was cracking a joke. 

Monroe has dry humor, so most people genuinely think she's serious. 

"That's true," Eliza agreed with her, motioning us over to the table she had secured for us.

Menus were already laid out across the white tablecloth, tucked neatly next to silverware like someone had come through just minutes before we got there. 

Everything looked set up, like the kind of place where you didn’t have to ask for anything twice.

At the end of the table, near the tall windows, a slim screen was angled toward the center. 

It already had the horses’ stats pulled up: names, numbers, past times. 

It was all ready to go for when the race started.

I sat down in one of the cushioned chairs, feeling thankful that I hadn't spotted Monroe's parents once.

It felt like I could relax and enjoy this new experience.

At least until they possibly show up.

"Monroe showed me her first car today," I said as we all got comfortable at the table, Monroe sliding her hand over my thigh to rest there.

"Wait, Goldie?" Eliza asked with a growing smile, glancing over to Monroe, who nodded in acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, I was processing the cute name they had for the car.

"Goldie," I emphasized with an amused look, looking over at Monroe.

She shook her head with a small smile, "She's revealing too much now," Monroe said, giving Eliza a tilted look.

"She's not revealing enough, actually," I countered, glancing back at Eliza. "By the way, what was she like in high school? Or college? Did she party a lot?"

Eliza chuckled at my questions, "She was boring," she emphasized, picking up one of the menus, "She was glued to her textbooks and never went out."

I sighed dramatically, "Lame," I mumbled jokingly, even if I kind of already knew Monroe prioritized her studies more. 

I remember her saying she never dated, much less entertained anyone.

She did arrangements once she was out of university.

It felt like she was kind of the same as she is now, just with a lot more knowledge and experience.

"Lame?" Monroe emphasized, her blue eyes meeting mine. 

The word alone sounded so foreign coming from her. 

"My lame," I quickly clarified, briefly kissing her cheek. 

"Awww," Eliza said with a growing smile, diverting our attention to her. 

It was kind of funny, actually, especially with how she was looking at us in awe. 

"It was a nice save, yes?" Monroe asked Eliza, briefly kissing my temple. 

"Really good save," Eliza didn't hesitate to say, holding up the most hilarious finger guns at me. 

It made me laugh softly, glancing over when one of the waiters approached our table. 

I was beyond ready to eat, even if I didn't look at the menu, I improvised on the spot and chose pancakes. 

Monroe got eggs and a pastry with fruit, while Eliza only ordered one of the mimosas. 

Then we focused on the race that was starting, focusing on the track just below the windows. 

I also eyed the statistics on the screen at the end of our table, but gave up trying to pretend like I knew what it meant. 

I just watched the horse I chose, praying mine would win. 

I got really into the race at some point, leaning over Monroe's shoulder and chanting with everyone else immersed in it. 

I could tell it amused Monroe, who seemed to look at me more than the race track. 

Especially when I jumped up from my chair, clapping happily when my horse crossed the finish line in first. 

A few other people seemed to be cheering and clapping, celebrating their victory. 

I didn't hesitate to lean down to Monroe, placing the biggest kiss on her soft lips. 

"We won, baby," I said to her, kissing her lips over and over again. 

Monroe chuckled softly, pulling me down to sit on her lap, "You're adorable," she said as I pulled back from her lips, looping my arms around her neck. 

I smiled wider when she trailed kisses down my arms, knowing exactly what winning meant. 

At least to me. 

I needed Monroe in that plane bathroom all over again. 

Safe to say, we'll be occupied on our way back to Seattle. 

"It's refreshing to see you like this, Mon," Eliza said as Monroe lifted my hand, softly kissing the back of it. 

Monroe hummed softly as she lowered our hands in my lap, "It feels refreshing," she said, staring at me in a way that made my face burn up. 

There was that look behind her eyes again—it made me feel so nervous. 

"Yeah, okay," I awkwardly whispered, glancing away from her open stare. 

That's when I quickly noticed Clarisse and Leon Leclair emerge from the long hallway into the observation room.

Leon wore a crisp white button-down and navy dress pants with a matching blazer. 

Clarisse had on a long white skirt that fell to her knees with a navy blouse and shiny stilettos, her blonde hair pulled back into an elegant twist bun. 

"Time to go," I quickly said, attempting to stand from Monroe's lap. 

But she smoothly pulled me back down. 

"You haven't finished your food, darling," she softly whispered in my ear. 

"And I don't want either of you leaving yet," Eliza said, pursing her lips, "Then you'll leave for Seattle, and come back another few years from now." 

I nervously smiled, feeling Monroe's parents verging closer. 

I knew Monroe was aware. 

She's aware of everything. 

She just didn't seem to care. 

"Come visit Seattle," I offered, trying to stand from Monroe's lap again. 

She gripped my waist in response, holding me even closer, "Don't let them ruin this, sweetheart," she murmured, clearly referring to her parents. "They don't get that kind of power." 

I let out a deep sigh, "I know, but—" 

"Monroe. Ms. Fierro," I heard Leon's deep voice echo, triggering my fight or flight instinct immediately. 

I pursed my lips into a blank smile as I glanced over to them. 

"I see we're enjoying the races," Leon said, looking over at Eliza, "Alissa, I see you're making up for lost time with my daughter." 

I had to purse my lips even tighter from his words, hating how he made Monroe sound like an object that belonged to him. 

It was the way he said my daughter. 

It wasn't loving or endearing. 

He was claiming one of his assets and butchering Eliza's name in the process. 

It was disrespectful to me. 

Yet, Eliza only nodded, probably having more experience with the two. 

"Making up for a few years lost," Eliza mumbled, glancing away from them in boredom. 

I hummed in acknowledgment, "Not that it's anyone's fault that Ro left New York," I casually added, and I could immediately feel Monroe's stare shift to me. 

I knew my words were petty. 

My tone was even passive, but fuck did it irritate me what they did to her. 

They traumatized her in so many ways. 

Leon only smiled wider like a maniac, while Clarisse was blank as usual, staring at us like she couldn't wait to walk away. 

"I hear you're flying back to Seattle today," Leon spoke again, completely disregarding the last topic. 

"Yes," was all Monroe said, gently tapping my waist. 

I immediately stood from her lap, realizing we would be leaving now. 

Thank god. 

I definitely don't want to sit in the same room as them. 

I wondered what made Monroe change her mind. 

"We need to have that family meeting, mon bijou," Leon said, glancing over to me, "You'll be an extension of the Leclair name one day, Ms. Fierro. You'll join us." 

It was an order, not an offer. 

I was ordered to join this family meeting. 

I furrowed my brows, glancing over to Monroe for a better explanation of what he meant. 

It sounded like he was insisting on marriage, and by the look on Monroe's face, I could sense that she didn't agree on any of this. 

Here they go again, forcing her into things. 

"We're leaving today," I spoke before Monroe could, "We'll try for a meeting next time." 

"We'll do dinner this evening," Clarisse had the nerve to say, snaking her way into the conversation as Eliza openly downed the rest of her mimosa. 

Maybe I need one of those. 

"Are you sure?" I asked, furrowing my brows like I was genuinely confused, "There might be more jokes about stabbing someone forty-seven times," I casually added. 

Then I took a step forward, positioning myself closer to them, no matter how much it made my stomach twist. 

"Or maybe a better joke? Like crushing up pills in drinks," I said, lowering my tone, "Maybe staging an overdose? You seem to love those," I said, lowering my tone as I stared between them both, grasping their reactions. 

I felt Monroe swiftly grab my waist, pulling me closer to her, especially when Leon's warm smile fell faster than I could blink. 

It was fucking unnerving. 

It made me realize that I had never seen him without a smile. 

His eyes felt darker without it, his jaw more tense. 

"Liberty," I heard Monroe's voice in my ear. 

It was a warning. 

Or past a warning. 

I might've stabbed the bear this time, instead of just poking it. 

Even Eliza was tensely silent, the soft chatter around us growing echoey as I awaited their response. 

Then I saw it. 

The twitch of Clarisse's lips. 

It was subtle but... 

She was smiling? 

It was the most appalling sight—I swear she looked evil. 

I flinched when Leon suddenly clapped his hands together once, the sound echoing as an unnerving smile spread on his lips once again. 

"You chose a good one, Monroe," he said, glancing past me to her, "She's one of us." 

I furrowed my brows at his words, taking full offense. 

I am not like them. 

What the fuck—why would he say that?

I swear it was enough to make my ears grow warm and my jaw tighten. 

"Perhaps worse, Ms. Fierro?" Clarisse had the nerve to say, the evil smile still prominent on her lips. 

I didn't even realize I had lunged at her until I felt Monroe smoothly tug me back, making me stumble over my feet with a grunt. 

"We're leaving," I heard Monroe say, her voice echoing in my ears as I struggled against her, trying to get away so I could slap Clarisse once. 

Just once, please. 

"We'll see you for the fourth, oui?" Clarisse asked as Monroe firmly pulled me past them, Eliza silently standing from her chair with a shocked expression. 

"The fourth would be perfect, mon bijou," Leon called out as I was forced away, angry tears burning in my eyes, "We'll see you soon." 

My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, balling my hands into fists as I pulled away from Monroe—walking away from her and Eliza toward the stairs.  

"Liberty," I heard Monroe call out, but I swear I've never felt so fucking bothered by something before, "I need a moment with her. I'll call you once we land," I heard her tell Eliza. 

"Of course, safe travels," Eliza's voice echoed. 

Then Monroe's heels clicked faster as I started descending the stairs, catching up with me entirely. 

I shook my head as she slid her arm around my waist, annoying tears slipping from my eyes. 

I didn't care that the entire first level was packed with people. 

I'll never see any of them again. 

Besides, people probably cry all the time here if they lose a bet. 

Right?

"I'm not like them," I said, but my words came out weaker than I expected, making more annoying tears grow in my eyes, "I'm not, Monroe." 

"You're not, Liberty," she said as we walked toward the doors that led out to the parking garage. "Darling, you're nothing like them." 

I messily wiped my tears away, hating that their words affected me. 

That they offended me and made me so mad to the point of crying. 

I truly fucking hate them. 

I don't wish bad on anyone, but Leon and Clarisse Leclair deserve every bad thing in this world. 

It will come full circle. 

It has to. 

"Come here," Monroe said as soon as we made it out into the parking garage, pulling me closer by my waist. 

I was wrapped in her arms before I could process it, her warm body pressed to mine. 

"My sweet girl," she softly whispered when I started crying harder, burying my face in her chest, "You could never be anything like them." 

I ran my arms around her, messy tears and makeup smearing against her dark jacket as I tried to get my crying under control. 

"I just want to go home," I forced out, squeezing her tighter to me as sobs echoed in my throat. 

"We'll go home, darling," Monroe didn't hesitate to say as she caressed the back of my head, "Let's go right now." 

I nodded immediately, "Yes, please," I whispered weakly, pulling away to wipe underneath my eyes. 

Monroe instinctively reached up to cup my face, wiping more of my tears for me. 

Her expression was softened as she stared down at me, leaning in even closer. 

I let out a deep exhale as she rested her nose against mine, caressing my curls away from my face with so much intention. 

"I get you, Liberty," she softly whispered, her blue eyes burning into mine, "You could never be them, darling. I choose you every day because you aren't them." 

I nodded a few times, sniffling as more tears escaped my puffy eyes. 

"Thank you," I forced out, closing the gap between our faces to kiss her lips. 

Monroe hummed softly as she briefly kissed me back. 

"I guess I'm welcomed into the family," I weakly joked, using dark humor as a way to cope. 

No one should ever be welcomed into this type of family. 

"My mother smiled for the first time in years," Monroe said, smiling when I laughed slightly. 

"God, she looked evil," I whispered, briefly kissing her cheek, "I'll never understand how they made you, Ro." 

Monroe's smile grew soft, drawing in a noticeably deep breath as she stared down at me. 

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. 

She was just frozen for a moment. 

Until she suddenly blinked a few times, glancing away from me entirely. 

"Let's go back to Seattle, darling," she finally said. 

I didn't hesitate to nod, "Let's go, baby."