She calls it agreement.
I call it emotional blackmail.
And I always planned on coming clean once his life was back on track. Mom was never going to convince me otherwise, even if she thought she already had.
A twisty pain forms in my gut. “Mom, how can you say that? I can’t deny him his child forever. It’s wrong.” I don’t want to point the finger of blame at my parents, but they are the reason Kal doesn’t know. When I discovered I was pregnant a few weeks after the trial concluded, I planned on telling my parents first and then Kal. However, Mom was adamant that I keep him in the dark. Back then, I didn’t know what I know now, but I still can’t fathom why she was so hypocritical. Mom said the press would hound me if they discovered I was having his child and they would forever paint me as a lying whore. She said Alexandra would whisk the child away from me, and I’d never see him again. Terrified and hormonal, and already sick to my stomach of the hate mail and death threats, I had agreed when they presented their plan to me. Horrific guilt got added to the maelstrom of emotions after my grandparents laid down terms, but by then it was too late to back out. All that mattered was ensuring I had a roof over Hewson’s head and a way to care for him.
However, I’ve had plenty of time to think about everything since, and there is much to regret. This seems to be a familiar pattern in my life these days.
“Do you want to lose Hewson? Because that’s what’ll happen if Alexandra Kennedy finds out he is her grandson.” There is little love lost between Mom and Kal’s mom, although I don’t quite understand what’s driving it.
“Kal wouldn’t let her do that, Mom.” I speak with confidence. Kal is many things, but he wouldn’t take my son away from me. I’d stake my life on it.
“Kal would have no say, child!” Her grip tightens on my arm. “He is too immature to raise a baby, and he would defer to his mother. Besides, you know what he’s like, Lana. A baby would only curtail his lifestyle. He won’t want anything to do with him.”
I want to defend him. To tell her she’s wrong, but I’m too afraid she might be right. I honestly have no idea how Kal would react to the news he’s a father. Would he embrace it or run for the hills?
“Anyway,” she continues, letting go of my arm and taking a step forward, “I thought you agreed it was best to let him live his life. You should never forget how you almost ruined him.”
How could I? Self-loathing is my constant companion, my guilty conscience a daily reminder of my many failings. Plus, my grandmother reprimands me often enough.
My grandparents are very religious, and I haven’t made a good first impression. They don’t think highly of me, at all. Having a child out of wedlock, months shy of my eighteenth birthday, and refusing to reveal the father’s identity didn’t go down well. We are only living here because my mother made the ultimate sacrifice for me. For Hewson.
All-consuming guilt threatens to suffocate me, and I bite back any further protest, feeling ungrateful for even thinking these thoughts. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Lana.” She stops walking again, sighing softly. She cups my face. “I know how sensitive you are, and how difficult this is for you, but you’ve done the right thing. For all of you.”
I don’t understand how she can say that. Not when she was in almost the same situation as me, yet she made the opposite choice. “Mom? Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Hewson stirs in the stroller, and we start walking again. “Do you regret having me?”
“No, darling!” she rushes to reassure me. “Don’t ever think that. You are the best thing I’ve done with my life.” She pats my hand. “And your son is a blessing too. If I implied any less, I apologize. He’s my grandson, and I love him very much.”
Tears prick my eyes. “I know you do, Mom, and I’m so grateful for all you are doing for me, and for him.” Mom walked away from my dad so that Hewson and I would have a place to call home. So that I could attend university and get a degree. She is his sole caregiver during the week, while I live on campus, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else with him. We have undoubtedly grown closer since I became a mom myself, and I’ve welcomed that. Right now, she’s one of the few I have in my corner. I can’t afford to alienate her. It doesn’t help me decide what to do about Kal, but, for now, I push that aside, determined to enjoy the last few hours with my son.
Hewson is lying on his back in his playpen, gurgling contentedly while we eat dinner at the table. On Sundays, my grandmother insists we eat in the formal dining room, and we are expected to dress accordingly. I’m wearing a skater-style black silk dress that has a high neck and cap sleeves and reaches just below my knees. Plain black ballet pumps adorn my feet. My hair is fixed in a neat bun, and I’m only wearing lip gloss and mascara.
It’s important I toe the line. I can’t forget they control the purse strings. One false move. One wrong comment, and they could cut me off. It’s why I find it hard to relax whenever I’m here. I’m constantly on guard.
As a child, I couldn’t understand why Mom had ceased contact with her parents. One hour in their company, and it all made perfect sense.
Still, I shouldn’t complain. They took us in, and they made it possible for me to attend college, and I am grateful. They may not be the easiest people to get along with, but they didn’t abandon us in our hour of need. Without them, we would have struggled to get by, and I certainly wouldn’t be in college. My parents couldn’t afford it, and I’d left it too late to apply for a scholarship. Living here may not be ideal, but it’s preferable to the alternatives. Some single mothers aren’t so lucky, and that’s enough to eliminate any uncharitable thoughts.
“How is school, Lana?” my grandfather asks after the maid has cleared away our dessert dishes. Mom’s dad is a nice man, but he doesn’t have much say in things that go on around here. My grandmother is a control freak, and she has everyone bowing to her every command. She rules this house—and the people in it—with an iron fist. Mom says it’s why she was such a successful businesswoman. Most outsiders think it was my grandfather’s business brain that took their fledgling retail business from a friendly, local supermarket to a multi-million-dollar national chain of stores and a recognizable household brand, but my grandmother was the driving force in the business as much as she is in their personal lives. There’s no denying she’s a formidable force and a bully—albeit an impressive one.
“School is good, Grandfather. I’ve signed up for extra classes, I’m doing some volunteer work, and I’ve joined a yoga class with some friends.”
“That sounds wonderful, my dear.” He gives me an affectionate smile.
“I do hope you have the good sense to avoid getting involved with any other young men,” my grandmother contributes.
“Of course, Grandmother.” I smile through gritted teeth.
She takes a timid sip of her coffee before pinning me with a deadly look. “As much as that beautiful boy is an innocent, no man will want to raise another man’s bastard.”
“Mother!” Mom is aghast. “Was that really necessary?”
My hand is shaking as I raise the tea cup to my lips. I feel an overwhelming urge to slap her. How dare she!
“Do you dare to question me in my own home?” she replies, leveling an icy expression at Mom. Her sly barbs are a constant reminder that we are at her mercy. For someone who claims to be pious, she sure has a nasty mean streak.
Mom knots her hands in her lap. “Of course not. I’m sorry, Mother.”
“If you had done a better job of raising your own child, she wouldn’t have found herself in the same situation as you.”
Mom can’t disguise the hurt on her face, and I’m indignant on her behalf. “Mom did a great job raising me.” I eyeball my grandmother. “And it’s unkind of you to imply otherwise. This is the twenty-first century. It’s not that uncommon
to have a baby as a single mother anymore.” Take that and stick it.
“It’s a mortal sin!” Her face contorts unpleasantly. “And children should never talk back to their elders.”
“I’m not a child.” Mom squeezes my hand in warning, but I’m not backing down. “I’m respecting your rules and your conditions, but I won’t sit here and listen to you insult Mom when she’s done nothing to deserve it.”
My grandfather looks out the window, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here. Tension is ripe, and I hate that Hewson is surrounded by an ever-present layer of the stuff. That can’t be good for him. At that precise moment, he lets out a rather loud wail that turns into a gutsy cry. It’s time for his next bottle. I rise carefully, moving to the playpen and swooping him up into my arms. Cradling him to my chest, I plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. I close my eyes, inhaling his gorgeous baby smell, reminding myself of why I am doing this. I hold him closer to me, this tiny piece of Kal—a permanent reminder of the boy I love.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I press one last kiss to Hewson’s cheek, tiptoeing from his room so as not to wake him. Sunday nights are my least favorite part of the weekend. Saying goodbye never gets any easier.
Mom drives me back to the campus, never once commenting on my melancholy mood. I rest my head on the window and close my eyes. Grief and pain battle with guilt and remorse inside me. Leaving Hewson behind every weekend carves a new scar on my heart. I hate that he is parentless all week. Yes, he has my mom, and she’s an angel. She loves and cares for him exactly as I would, but it’s not the same. I wonder if he’ll grow up disconnected from me because I wasn’t around for his formative years.
The fact I’m depriving Kal of that too doesn’t sit right with me, but what choice do I have?
That’s what I tell Liv when I return to the dorm and she asks if I’ve given any thought to Kal over the weekend.
“Just talk to the guy. You don’t have to tell him about Hewson yet,” she suggests, noting my glum expression, “but talk to him. Gauge if he’s changed. Confirm his motives. Maybe spend a little bit of time with him, and after that, you can decide whether to tell him or not.”
“You think I’m a monster for keeping this from him, don’t you?”
“I know you had to make tough choices, and I can’t imagine being in such a difficult position.”
“I regret not telling him when I found out, but I was in such a state back then and my parents convinced me it was for the best. Now, I’m so confused.” I pull my knees up under me on the bed. “One part of me thinks it’s best to let him go on with his life so he’s not missing out on anything, but another part of me says he’s missing out on way more by not knowing his son. Then I think of what Mom said and I get scared.”
“Courts are generally reluctant to remove a baby from his mother,” she says. “And your family has plenty of money to fight the Kennedys if they took this to court.”
“It’s not my money, and I doubt my grandmother would support that. She won’t want her name dragged through the mud. As much as I want to believe Kal wouldn’t do that, I can’t emphatically say he wouldn’t. I can’t ever forget my betrayal, and this could be the final nail in the coffin. What if he thinks I’m the worst person to bring up his son?”
“I honestly doubt he’d think that, but deciding to tell him isn’t without risk,” she acknowledges.
I slump on my side. “My brain hurts.”
“I wish I could offer better advice.”
“I’m not sure anyone can advise me, and you’re a great friend. Thank you.”
She scoffs. “Stop. You’d do the same for me.”
“I would.”
“I know.” She grins, yawning. “Sleep on it. Maybe the right decision will come to you overnight.”
I laugh. If only it were that straightforward.
Predictably, I had the worst night’s sleep, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open during classes the next day. My notetaking is abysmal, and it’s like everything is going in one ear and out the next. I haul my weary ass to the Reitz at lunchtime with my friends, and we head to our favorite restaurant for lunch. We’re sipping on sodas and waiting for our food when the inquisition begins. I’ve been expecting it since Friday.
“So, you and Kalvin Kennedy, huh?” Maya asks, jiggling her eyebrows.
“I grew up near him, and we used to hang out a bit when we were kids.” I hope I sound nonchalant because I need to kill this conversation superfast.
“And?” Brianna pries, straining across the table.
“And, what?” I shrug, feigning indifference. The girls are nice, and I don’t think they’d judge me, but I can’t risk telling them the truth. The more contained it is the better my chances are of keeping it on the down low.
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve seen nuns that are more forthcoming than you.”
I take a big slurp from my drink.
“What Bree means to say is he’s fucking hot and are you screwing him?”
My eyes startle. “You got that from Friday?”
“Girl, there was enough electricity between you two to start a fire. So, what’s the deal? You fucking him or what?”
“No. I’m not having sex with him, and I have no plans to.” A tingle down below makes a liar of me. My body is one hundred percent not happy with that statement.
The waitress appears, placing hot plates in front of us.
“Is that so?” Maya slathers a fry in ketchup, popping it in her mouth.
“Yes. So can we drop it now?”
“Not likely,” Bree says with a toothy grin, and I groan.
I can scarcely keep my eyes open during the last class of the day, and I’m elated when it finally draws to a close. I’m going to skip the library and grab a nap instead before my shift in the center starts. I text Chase telling him I’m not available to meet for coffee now, ignoring his responding call when I see it flickering across my screen. I know if I answer he’ll only talk me into it. My bed is calling to me, and it’ll wait for no one.
“If you’re not having sex with him,” Bree says, as we step outside the building, “why is he waiting for you again?” She points across the road, and I jerk my head in that direction.
Kal is leaning against a shiny, silver truck, holding a paper cup and bag in one hand. He straightens up when he sees me, treating me to one of his panty-dropping smiles. He blows me a kiss, before nudging his head to the side in a “come hither” manner. I gulp, rooted to the spot, completely indecisive. Pushing off the truck, he saunters leisurely toward us, his gaze raking over me like a soft caress. My body tingles all over, and raw needs pulses in my core.
No one does intense like Kalvin Kennedy.
I’ve been on the receiving end of it before, and it’s like being trapped in a laser beam.
As his eyes continue to devour me, I sway a little on my feet, a combination of exhaustion and potent longing. This isn’t fair. I’d swear he cast a spell over me when I was a kid if I didn’t believe that was outside the realm of possibility. He continues to stare at me, like no one else exists, and I’m feeling faint. I lean against Maya’s side, clutching her arm to steady me. Kal’s eyes twinkle knowingly, and I want to curse my pathetic ass self for being so damn weak.
“Ho. Lee. Shit,” Maya exclaims. “He can eye fuck me like that any day. I think I just came in my panties.”
As he closes the gap between us, I can’t tear my gaze from him though I know I should. His eyes are brimming with naked emotion, and it does something weird to my insides.
“Oh crap,” I murmur. “I am so screwed.”
Chapter Twelve
Kalvin
Operation Honeybun has officially commenced, and if the look on Lana’s face is any indication, I’d say I’m off to a winning start.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say, when I�
�m finally standing in front of her. “These are for you.” I hand over my offerings.
She stares at me, all glassy-eyed, and I smother my smug grin. “What …” her voice is barely louder than a whisper. She clears her throat and blinks her eyes. “What is it?”
“Chamomile tea and a blueberry muffin.”
Her startled eyes meet mine. “You remember?”
I momentarily frown. As if I could forget. “Of course.” I dazzle her with another expansive smile, taking her hands and wrapping them around the cup and bag. Our fingers meet and fiery tingles shoot up and down my arms. She’s always had that effect on me. “I remember everything about you, honeybun. The Imaga could zap my brain with their futuristic memory stick thingy and I’d still remember you. You’re in here and no one can erase you.” I tap the side of my head as her cheeks flush at the mention of her childhood fictional creation. I wonder if she held onto the drawings I did for that story. I had immense fun imagining warped little green aliens running riot on unsuspecting humans.
The tall good-looking blonde—the same one who was with Lana on Friday—nudges her sharply in the ribs, shooting her a calculating look. My hand thrusts out. “Hi, I’m Kal.”
“Maya,” she mutters, looking equally as dazed as Lana. Her handshake is firm.
“I’m Bree,” the other girl confirms, gulping as her cheeks redden a smidgeon.
“Nice to meet you both. Would you mind if I borrowed Lana for a bit?”
“Oh no,” Maya says. “We don’t mind at all. You can borrow her for as long as you like.”
Bree looks a little confused. “Is borrow a code word or something?”
“Oh em gee,” Lana says, finding her voice. “Would you two knock it off.” She sends an irritated look at her friends, before refocusing on me. “This is really sweet of you, thank you, but I’m heading back to my dorm, so there’ll be no, um, borrowing, taking place.”
Loving Kalvin (The Kennedy Boys Book 4) Page 10