All that Matters (Family Matters Book 2)

by Liana Key

  The day was a blur of sex, sleep and food. The feeling of contentment, of reconnecting was all that mattered. She said that we would go up the coast tomorrow. She'd booked a place to stay in Carmel. Had I been there? No, I'd said. We could just chill out, be normal, like it would be our only opportunity to do so.

  And that's what we did. We strolled around the shops hand in hand, walked along the beach arm in arm, had lunch in cafes, ate ice cream and went out for dinner. Simple stuff, unremarkable by any standards, but with each day, it was like knowing it was coming closer to an end. Like we had to make the most of it, in a day or two it would all be over, and we'd go back to our lives of sneaking around, of stolen kisses in her office, of lies and deception, just because we didn't conform, we weren't considered the norm.

  On Thursday, Magdala rang me, but I let it go to missed call. Paola and I were sitting on our balcony, admiring the ocean view. When I didn't answer, a text followed.

  It read: Cash? Where are you? Dad said you aren't home.

  "Damn it," I said aloud. And I texted back: I'm back, just not at home.

  "What is it?" Paola asked. She had her feet up on the balcony ledge, bare feet with coral colored toenails, sitting in a short sun dress. It was a picture of my wildest dreams, a beautiful woman sipping wine, watching the sunset. Life didn't get much better, but it could get worse.

  "Magdala must have talked to Dad," I said, and waited, staring at my phone. Paola was on her second large glass, and was mildly drunk, her skin glowing from the two days we'd been in the sun, her eyes sexy.

  As expected, my phone rang. "Hey, Dad," I said. Paola sat up straight, put her feet down.

  "Cash where the hell are you? Magdala said you left on Sunday, is everything all right?" It was hard to judge his tone, he didn't quite sound angry, more worried.

  "Yeah, I'm back," I said with trepidation, "I'm fine."

  "Well where the fuck are you?" That was anger.

  "I'm just with a friend," I said, angling myself away from Paola.

  "What fucking friend?" He said it so loudly I was sure Paola could hear him. I stood up and walked inside. Paola's eyes followed me. "And fucking where are you?”

  "Dad, I'm just up in Carmel," I tried to sound calm, controlled, "I'll be back soon."

  "Carmel? Who the fuck with Cash?" I walked through our small lounge into the bedroom. I'd never had Dad talk to me like that before. Well I'd never done anything to ever warrant such a talking to.

  "Dad," I said, hesitating, wondering how to word it. "A girl I met."

  There was silence for a second, maybe two. "Did you meet her on the cruise?" he asked, his voice returning to normal.

  "No," I said, then added, "no, I knew her before."

  "Fucking hell Cash," he said, with frustration. "Why didn't you say something? You can't just disappear you know. Magdala was in a panic, Martha and Ben were about to ring Interpol..." His voice was getting hoarser and hoarser. Since he had throat cancer five years ago, his voice had changed, and the more he talked the more croakier and indecipherable it became. "You've had Antonia getting all stressed out. We've had thirty minutes of complete chaos." Well that's what I think he said. He cleared his throat.

  "Dad, I'm fine, okay? Just don't worry."

  "Of course I'm going to worry, when you've been missing for three days."

  "I'm sorry," I said. And I was. I truly hadn't given a thought to any of them, well to be honest I didn't think I'd get caught out, didn't think anyone would even check up on me, obviously a poorly judged decision.

  "Why wouldn't you tell me Cash?" Now he sounded disappointed, because I hadn't confided in him. Paola had come inside, she was leaning against the doorframe.

  "Dad, it's complicated," I said, turning away from her. I didn't want her to hear. "I'll talk about it when I get back, okay?"

  Dad sighed. "Okay," he relinquished, "but you're safe?"

  "Yes."

  "And you have money?"

  "Yes," I said. "I'll ring when I'm coming home."

  "Cash? Just be careful," he said, now I could feel his love, his concern.

  "Yes, I will." I sat down on the end of the bed, looked up at Paola.

  "Your Dad?" she asked, her face tilting, a pout on her lips. "You been a naughty boy?"

  I smiled and nodded. "You might be arrested for kidnapping if you're not careful. They almost had Interpol on to you." She laughed and came and sat on my knee. Her eyes were slightly cloudy, unfocused from the alcohol, it was definitely sexy. She nibbled at my earlobe, I squirmed, one of my ticklish spots. She brought her lips across to my lips, tasting the crisp sharp Sauvignon Blanc that she'd been drinking. I didn't really have a taste for wine, the bottle would be all hers. I rolled her onto the bed, her dress riding up, her panties displayed. I put my hand in, tugged at them, my fingers exploring her clit, and inside, feeling the moistness. She moaned, her knees bent, her arms splayed out, as if in surrender.

  "Take me," she said, in a tipsy, whispery voice, "take me you naughty boy." I laughed and tossed the panties away. I went down on her, my tongue darting. She groaned louder, interspersed with gasps and sighs, her face smiling with a lazy satisfaction, as if she was there to be pleasured, deserved to be pleasured. She writhed liked a fucking snake as my tongue brought her to orgasm, her hips lifting, rising like she was in that fine line between agony and ecstasy. Excruciatingly unbearable, but unable to resist, and her panting sounded like she was in the throes of merciless torture. She was irresistible. I got naked within seconds, my clothes discarded recklessly, and drove myself into her as if time was of the essence. And then I slowed myself, savoring each and every thrust, letting each one wash over me like a wave, but not letting it submerge me. I held on, mastering my control, pushing myself into her deepest inner core, wanting her to experience me in every cell of hers. Her moans turned me on, I'd never heard anything so sexy, so arousing. Our bodies synchronized in a repeat of our previous gold medal performance, and there was no need to prolong; our bodies coming in perfect unison.

  We left for LA on Saturday, and we meandered down the coast, appreciating the last hours of being together. She dropped me at home, and with some uncertainly I walked in the back door, scouting around for Dad or Antonia, and seeing no one, scuttled quickly to my room. I unpacked my suitcase, putting my clothes into piles for laundry, ironing and closet. As I threw the laundry pile into the hamper, I noticed Dad standing in the doorway.

  "Dad?" I said, shocked, "I didn't see you." He held his arms out and I went to him for a hug. Though it had only been ten or eleven days since I'd seen him.

  "You gave us quite a scare, Cash," he said, and came and sat on the end of my bed. "Care to explain?" I refolded my ironing pile, just so I didn't have to look him in the eye. I had no idea what I was going to say.

  "Cassian?" he prompted, with impatience, as if he had better things to be doing.

  I stopped folding for a minute. "I met someone and she just wanted to go away for a few days and because I hadn't seen her all summer...we just wanted to be together." I was surprised how easily it came out, how normal it all sounded.

  "So why the secrecy?" His voice was gruff already, maybe he'd been talking too much.

  I feigned ignorance. "What secrecy?”

  "What secrecy?" he mimicked. "How about the fact that none of us know about this girl, that Magdala knew nothing, that you've never talked about her, and none of us have seen her." His tone was a mix of sarcasm and humor.

  I sat next to him. "It's complicated."

  His voice became gentle and he put a hand on my shoulder. "How about you try me? I was the king of complicated," he said.

  "Jakey knows," I said.

  "Jakey is still in Texas," he said matter-of-factly.

  "She's my boss," I said, and I stared at the floor, daren't look his way.

  He was silent for a moment. "Your boss?" He paused. "You're screwing your boss?" I was surprised at his choice of words. I nodded, but still couldn't look at him. "How ol
d is your boss?" he asked, and I knew his gaze was on me. I shrugged. "How old?" he demanded, his voice for a moment was clear and smooth.

  "Twenty eight."

  "Jesus Christ Cassian," he said and he stood and paced a few steps away, a few steps back. "Twenty eight?" He ran his hand through his hair. "That's eleven years Cash. Eleven fucking years." I couldn't dispute it, my only hope was that he understood. After all, he'd loved my mother once. My mother was going to be my trump, my ace card, if needed.

  "So she runs the restaurant?" he asked. I nodded. "Does she know how old you are?" I nodded again. "How long's it been going on?"

  "Since I started. Pretty much."

  "Fucking hell Cash," he said. He sat back down.

  "We tried to break up," I offered and finally looked at him.

  He shook his head. "Oh fuck," he said, "why did you have to turn out like me, huh?" His hand went back on my shoulder. I shrugged, a little confused that he was doing a comparison. "So what happens now?" he asked, "Now that you've had your week away and you start work tomorrow?"

  I shrugged again. "I don't know," I said. "We go back to sneaking around I guess." I paused, and shot him a look. "Isn't that what you did with Mom?"

  He let out a husky laugh. "Your fucking mother and I, we were experts at sneaking around. We were like ninjas in the dark." He laughed as if recalling humorous memories.

  "I can't imagine you as a ninja," I said. Dad had always been big and tall, though Mom had been small.

  He laughed again. "Your mother knew every damn alleyway, every door, every cupboard and every bush at that school. There wasn't one hiding place that she didn't know about. We..." He paused, as if he had decided to rephrase his thoughts. "We did it in a lot of unusual places." He laughed again.

  My Dad had been sent to boarding school in Arizona when he was sixteen. He said he had gotten into trouble here, with drugs I think, so Grandad sent him away. Dad had been the original rebel in his day, he smoked, he got tattoos in a time when only bikers and sailors had them and he cut school. I don't think him and Grandad had a good relationship when he was growing up. Dad had often said it was hell growing up on the ranch, and he had only taken us back there to live because he was desperate. He and Grandad appear to get on all right now, I've never seen them argue or fight.

  My mother worked in the kitchen at the boarding school. Dad said she use to serve up the portions at meal times, and that he fell in love with her. She would give him extra portions, even though he said the food was crap. My mother had been married but was separated and lived in a small cottage on the school grounds. He use to sneak over to her cottage in the night. Eventually they got caught and they both got kicked out of the school. Dad had got sent home and Mom, who had been pregnant with me eventually followed him to LA. Obviously things didn't go well once she got here.

  "Cash," he said, and he turned serious. "You're not like me, you're a good kid, you're smart, you're sensible..." He sighed. "Just try and think about what you're doing. You've got a big year coming up, you want to try and enjoy it."

  I looked at him, I knew all that. Knew that I should be focused on senior year, concentrating on getting into college, but I said, "Don't tell Magdala. Please." For some reason I didn't want her to know. I would feel embarrassed if she knew, like she would look at me differently.

  "I won't tell her," he said, "but I'm not going to lie. You make up your own story about who you've been with." And he gave me a squeeze of my shoulder and departed. I felt a calm when he left, like a weight had been removed. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before, that Dad would know what my predicament felt like. He had already lived it himself. I giggled to myself, imagining Dad and my Mom sneaking around in the middle of the night, hiding behind bushes. Just like Paola and me, brushing against each other in the kitchen, stealing glances across the restaurant floor, hiding in her darkened office for a kiss, for a fuck. And for the first time I felt unafraid, I felt positive, that I had a sense that if we could make it through my senior year, then everything would turn out all right.

  PAOLA

  I didn't want to think about returning to LA, but it was going to happen, had to happen. It's like the dream was coming to an end. Only it wasn't a dream, it was real life, our life. And it had been impossibly perfect. But how could it continue when we got back to reality? We arrived on Saturday evening and we were both scheduled to work the Sunday lunch shift, his first day back. He said he was looking forward to it, that he'd missed working. I dropped him off at his house, well several doors down, so that my car wouldn't be spotted. He had rung his father to say he'd be returning. I'd asked him what he was going to tell him, and he admitted that he didn't know; he would just play it out.

  He had texted me that night to say everything was fine, not to worry. I trusted him, but didn't ask for details. I looked forward to work the next day. Having the week off made me realize how much I loved my job, loved the restaurant, loved the people, and the bonus of knowing he would be working lifted my spirits.

  Caroline noticed immediately. "My, a change of scenery has done you wonders," she gushed. "Look at the color in your cheeks, you're glowing again."

  "I think I was burnt out," I confessed, "yes, the break was much needed." And I lied my way through a story about meeting up with my old college friend Louise, who lived in Monterey, stopping in Carmel, beach walks, shopping, eating out. My only omission was that it was all done with Cassian. Caroline was overjoyed that Cassian was back, and seeing his golden tan set the whole table of ladies into a spin. He'd also had his hair cut a little shorter which showed off his sun bleached highlights, and with his green, green eyes, he was indeed a picture of adulation. You felt like you could just sit and stare at him all day. Which is what I intended to do later.

  He said he had some family things to do after work, which he didn't elaborate on, but I invited him around later, saying I would make him dinner. He couldn't commit to a particular time, but I told him to turn up when he was ready. I had housekeeping to busy myself with after my week away.

  Caroline was right, I really did look better. A close inspection in the mirror showed a radiance in my skin and overall I felt younger, energized, lighter, and that was due to a loss of appetite when he wasn't around. I'd actually lost four pounds and that was not from extra exercise sessions. When he hadn't been around, it was like I had lost the will to eat.

  But now I was back to my usual self, whipping up a batch of brownies and preparing a salad for tonight's meal. I was dusting my brownies with confectioners’ sugar when there was a tap at my open door. I spun around and there was Cassian, dressed only in a pair of shorts, his golf cap on backwards, with his sunglasses hooked on the brim, carrying a bottle of wine. I smiled, so pleased to see him.

  "Oh you've made it!" I exclaimed, "and just in time for these brownies." He came over, bent and kissed my cheek. I shook my strainer at him, getting sugar on his face. He dipped his finger in the container, flicked some back at me and then licked it.

  "I brought your favorite," he said, flashing the wine in front of me.

  "Are you trying to get me drunk?" I teased.

  "I quite liked you drunk," he winked, as he put it into the fridge.

  "Why are you practically naked?" I asked, surveying his body, from top to toe, my eyes greedily taking in his magnificence.

  "Because I want you to look at me exactly like that," he said, causing me to blush. Then he smiled, "I was at the beach with the kids, we've been swimming." He sat down at the table. "It's hot as hell out there."

  I put some brownies onto a plate for him, poured him a glass of water, then attended to the dishes in the sink. "Who else went to the beach?" I asked.

  "Just me," he said. "Mmmm, these brownies are good."

  And right then there was a knock at the door. I turned from the sink, and there was Stefan, looming in my doorway, a plastic shopping bag in his hand. He hesitated, easing off his flip flops, his gaze taking in the situation. I looked across at Ca
ssian, he straightened up in the chair.

  "Stefan!" I said in faked joy.

  "Hi," he said, his eyes darting across from me, to Cassian and back to me. I busied myself with drying my hands on a tea towel. "How's it going?" he asked tentatively.

  "Good," I said, wondering how I would explain Cassian's presence. He'd come for his roster? He'd come for some brownies? He'd brought me his social security number? My brain was in a fog.

  Cassian had risen. He'd extended his arm out, he was shaking Stefan's hand. "I'm Cassian," he said, strongly, confidently. There was a slight smudge of sugar on his cheek, I hoped Stefan wouldn't notice.

  "Stefan," said Stefan. "I think I've seen you at the restaurant?" Stefan was looking at his body too, the tan, sculptured physique, taking it all in. Cassian nodded, Stefan looked back at me, his eyes squinting, his brow furrowing, a look of What's he doing here? I ignored it.

  "Would you like a drink? A brownie? I've just baked these." I was already assembling some onto a plate, but hoping he was going to refuse them and just leave. But he didn't. He nodded and pulled out a chair. Cassian sat back down too. I poured Stefan some water, topped up Cassian's glass.

  "I've just been diving," Stefan said, "thought you'd like a lobster." He glanced back to Cassian.

  "Ooh lovely," I said, in a silly, giggly voice, "yum, fresh lobster." My nerves were kicking in. I picked up the bag and pulled out the lobster. "It looks a good size." Though I couldn't see it as it was wrapped in newspaper. "Thank you."

  "And there's a barbecue later at Jeff's. Thought you'd like to come, seeing you've been down in the dumps lately. You'll know everyone there."

  I picked up the lobster and took it to the fridge. "I don't think so," I said, taking my time, pretending to rearrange the contents. "Besides I already started on a salad. But thank you." I glanced at Cassian.