Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2)

by Ruff, K. S.

  Gabi’s pretty blue eyes softened. “I think it would mean a lot to him if you were there, Kri. Please come.”

  I sat down on the couch, suddenly exhausted. “What did I ever do to deserve friends like you?” I asked, truly mystified.

  Gabi and I were the only two people in our circle of friends who weren’t military, so she leaned toward me conspiratorially. “I know. We really hit the jackpot with this crew, didn’t we?”

  I smiled and nodded. Gabi was trying to lighten my mood, but she wasn’t joking. Each person in our circle of friends would willingly throw down his life for the other, and they were incredibly good at working through things together when someone was in trouble.

  Cenia and Marie joined us with a pitcher of margaritas and four glasses rimmed in salt. Marie poured the margaritas. Cenia lifted her glass toward Gabi and Marie as she plopped into the chair across from me. “Just so you know, I have two air mattresses if you girls feel like spending the night.”

  Marie and Gabi exchanged glances. “Should we order take out?” Gabi asked. Her eyes sparked with excitement.

  “There’s a good Mexican restaurant just down the street. I’ll track down the menu after I finish my drink.” Cenia kicked her feet up on the table and winked at me over the top of her margarita glass.

  It was my first slumber party in over a decade. The girls kept me up for hours as they caught me up on all of the drama that I had missed while I was in Paris. I was excited to hear that Troy’s girlfriend, Sara, had finished school at Texas A&M and had finally moved to town. We needed another girl to help balance out the group. Not a single question was asked about Paris, Michael, or Kadyn.

  I didn’t bother taking a sleeping pill when I finally crawled into bed. The margaritas had proven equally effective at inducing sleep.

  * * * * * *

  Cenia kept me busy that weekend. We shopped for groceries and poured over Internet listings for potential apartments, condos, and townhomes in Arlington and Alexandria, although I still wasn’t sure how I was going to come up with the money. I barely had enough money remaining from my Senate fellowship to repay Kadyn. A number of bills had been automatically withdrawn from my checking account in my absence, but I felt terrible that Kadyn had paid my rent and the remaining bills. I was determined to repay him, and I knew he’d be hesitant to accept the money in person, so I mailed him a check first thing Saturday morning.

  My student loans were barely covering tuition and books. I needed to come up with a deposit and first month’s rent on an apartment, and I wanted to give Cenia some money for letting me stay with her. I still didn’t have a job, so I found myself in the uncomfortable position of having to use Michael’s money.

  Once I came to terms with the fact that I would have to draw on that money, I decided it would be smarter to buy than rent. The housing market was strong in DC; and if I bought a place, I could always resell it and give the money back to Michael, or he could simply add it to his long list of properties. Cenia put me in touch with her real estate agent, who put together a list of properties to show me the following weekend.

  Then school hit. Nothing could have prepared me for the amount of research, reading, and writing that was required for graduate school. Each class required four to six books on average. I could have bought a small country with the amount of money I forked over for books alone.

  I liked my professors, instantly. I was surprised to learn that so many of them were retired military. Some had served as mediators to world leaders, and nearly every one of them had worked on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict at some point in time. They were a fascinating group of scholars. I quickly lost myself in my studies and the possibilities surrounding my degree.

  It wasn’t easy carving out time for house hunting the next weekend, but I managed to look at eight properties. I quickly dismissed the midrise condos in Arlington. I didn’t like being packed in with so many people, and the smells that permeated the hallways were nauseating. Some of the townhomes I looked at were too old. I worried about the repairs that would be required. The one townhouse that I liked had an offer from another buyer before we even left the property, but my real estate agent was not easily defeated. I bumped up the amount of money I was willing to spend, and she promised to have more listings for me the following weekend.

  By the second week of school, students were expected to fully participate in classroom discussions. Our professors ran us through a number of simulations where we had to resolve personal conflicts, work-related conflicts, and ethnic conflicts. We had yet to explore strategies for resolving conflict, so it was obvious the point of these exercises was to assess our current strengths and our personal tendencies toward conflict. After the simulations, we were placed in one of four categories: avoiding, accommodating, collaborative, and competitive. I was labeled accommodating, and I felt my label fit.

  It was interesting to see how the other students were categorized. There were less than fifty students in my program. The majority of my classmates either served in the military or they worked as civilians for the Department of Defense or the Department of Homeland Security. Most of these students were labeled competitive. Twelve students in our program were from other countries. Most of these students were labeled collaborative. There were only two students who tended to avoid conflict and only one other student besides me who was labeled accommodating. Her name was Shae.

  Shae was quiet, like me. We both preferred to study the other students in class and tended to offer our opinions only when prompted by our professors. She had soft brown eyes and a warm skin tone. She typically pulled her long brown hair back with a clip. When I first saw Shae, I thought she might be Hispanic, like Cenia. Then she wore her hair down. She had the most amazing hair that fell nearly to her waist in soft waves of brown, auburn, and gold. When she wore her hair down, Shae looked Hawaiian. Whatever her ethnicity, she was beautiful and she radiated a kindness that caused everyone in the program to gravitate toward her. She seemed oblivious to the effect she had on people, which made her all the more endearing.

  I was a little stressed over not having a job, but I was happy to be back in school. I found the people in my program fascinating. The studies were diverting enough to keep my mind off Michael when I was sitting in class or buried in books.

  I still found myself fighting tears when my mind wasn’t engaged in coursework. Memories had a tendency to sneak up on me, especially when I was alone. I longed to hear Michael’s voice and contemplated calling him more than once, but pride prevented me from picking up the phone.

  I was equally tempted to call Rafael, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate to cry on his shoulder about how much I missed Michael. As much as I considered Rafael my friend, he was still Michael’s brother.

  I was still struggling with sleep. The bed was too cold, my arms too empty, and there was nothing to distract me from the gaping holes in my heart. Sleeping pills helped dull the pain long enough to fall asleep, but I would inevitable wake up crying. Cenia would comfort me when I woke up screaming from a bad dream. I felt terrible about waking her up, especially when she had to get up so early for work; but I couldn’t control where my mind went once I fell asleep. I wondered if I would ever heal.

  * * * * * *

  Cenia hosted a Super Bowl party at the end of January. She promoted the event as a chili cook-off. Her advertising scheme proved extremely effective given the competitive nature of our friends. The men were responsible for cooking the chili, and they weren’t permitted to consult with any women on their recipes. The women were responsible for appetizers, cornbread, drinks, and dessert.

  I was really nervous about the Super Bowl party. I hadn’t seen any of the men from our circle of friends and doubted they would be as forgiving as the women had been. This would also be the first time I saw Kadyn since Thanksgiving. As unfair as it was, I was praying he wouldn’t bring a date.

  The parade of manly-men carrying Crock-Pots into Cenia’s condo proved far more entertaining
than the Super Bowl. The fact that they had even purchased Crock-Pots was a testament as to how serious they took the competition. Roger arrived first. Cenia and I found the spicy aroma of his chili impossible to resist. We trailed behind him as he set the Crock-Pot in the kitchen and immediately stole a few bites. Roger waited for our reaction while we tasted his chili.

  Cenia smiled and gave him a kiss. “You did good, honey.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine topping that.”

  Roger squeezed my shoulders as he draped his arm around me. “It’s good to have you back, Krissy.”

  Kadyn walked into the kitchen before I could respond. As soon as he found a place on the counter for his Crock-Pot, he pulled me away from Roger and gave me a big hug. “You need to taste my chili before you say that.”

  I blinked back tears as I grabbed another spoon to give Kadyn’s chili a try. “Bacon?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, along with sausage and ground beef.”

  Kadyn’s chili was flavored with barbeque sauce where Roger’s chili was truly spicy. I preferred spicy, but I gave Kadyn two thumbs up anyway.

  “I called your dad,” he confessed. “He gave me a few pointers.”

  I laughed. “That explains all the meat.”

  Kadyn and I scooted out of the kitchen to make room for Phil and Matt. “So, how’s school?” Kadyn asked as we walked into the living room.

  “Good. I really like the program and the professors. My classmates seem nice, but the homework is brutal. Now I know why they discourage students from working full time jobs. I’m not sure how I’m going to juggle everything when I start working again.”

  Kadyn sat on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. “Have you had any luck finding a job?”

  I propped my knee on the couch so I could face him. “No. I’ve been limiting my search to government jobs, but I’m going to start looking into some non-profits and NGO’s this week.”

  Kadyn waved at Mason and Gabi as they walked in and headed toward the kitchen. “Have you found a place yet?” he asked as his eyes returned to me.

  I shook my head. “No. I haven’t had much luck finding anything in my price range. Cenia hooked me up with a real estate agent. She’s showing me a townhouse in Old Town tomorrow.”

  Kadyn glanced up at Mason as he joined us. “Just as long as you pick a place with a good security system.”

  Mason sat on the other end of the couch. He pulled Gabi onto his lap. “You should let Kadyn or me take a look at the security system before you decide on a place.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Mason. I think that’s a great idea. It would certainly give me some peace of mind. Gabi told me you’re pinning on Major. Congratulations!”

  Mason shrugged. “Looks like I’m in it for the long haul. You’re coming to the ceremony?”

  I smiled. “As long as you don’t mind. I would really like to be there, Mason. With everything you’ve done…” Tears suddenly pooled in my eyes.

  Mason looked alarmed at the sight of my tears. “It was nothing,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

  Marie and Phil joined us. I swallowed my tears as Phil pulled me up for a hug. “Hey, Kri. It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Phil.” I smiled at Marie and gave her a hug.

  Gabi hopped out of Mason’s lap. She gave Phil and Marie a quick kiss on the cheek. “What kind of chili did you make, and why did you bring noodles?”

  Phil chuckled. “I made Cincinnati Chili. You’re supposed to serve it over pasta with cheese, onions, and crushed oyster crackers sprinkled on top.”

  Cenia strode out of the kitchen with a glass of wine. “Okay, the Super Bowl is starting in fifteen minutes, so let’s get the logistics out of the way. There are small sampling cups and plastic spoons on the counter, so you can sample each kind of chili. Once you find your favorite chili, you’re welcome to dish up a bowl. Appetizers, cornbread, and dessert are on the table. Wine is on the counter by the wine glasses, beer is in the fridge. Feel free to serve yourself. There are small strips of paper, pens, and a plastic bowl in the kitchen. Be sure to vote on your favorite chili before half-time. I’ll announce the winner then.”

  Matt popped his head out of the kitchen. “Wait. What’s the prize?”

  Cenia laughed. “Bragging rights, of course!”

  We really only watched the first and fourth quarters of the Super Bowl. The commercials and the chili garnered more attention than the second and third quarters of the game. Phil’s Cincinnati Chili was really good, especially with the pasta, cheese, and onions added in. Matt’s chili included only two ingredients; ground beef and cumin. This inspired a rather lengthy debate on whether taco meat could even be considered chili. Mason did an amazing job, especially for a guy who primarily cooks frozen pizza. He added pepperoni to his chili and insisted we sprinkle diced dill pickles on top. The bizarre combination tasted surprisingly good. Roger’s chili had habanero peppers, jalapenos, diced tomatoes, and four different kinds of beans. His chili was my favorite, but I couldn’t bear the thought of voting against Kadyn.

  Roger won the title for best chili in the end. Kadyn came in second place. As they filed out of Cenia’s house with their Crock-Pots in tow, each of the men promised to up his game for the next Super Bowl party. The chili cook-off was now slated as an annual event.

  * * * * * *

  I met my real estate agent at the end of King Street the next morning. We walked along the Potomac River Trail until we reached the brick townhouse she was planning to show me. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe the townhouse overlooked the Potomac River. I turned my back to the townhouse as I stared at the river. I was instantly transported to the bank of another river in a very different city an entire ocean away.

  Pearl gently touched my arm. “Kristine, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes,” I quickly mumbled. “It’s just… it’s on the river.”

  She smiled. “I thought you would like being near the water. You can walk or bike the trail. It’s close to a lot of restaurants and just minutes away from Arlington and DC.”

  “This has got to be out of my price range,” I protested.

  “It is, but I think we can make this work. Just humor me.” She reached for my elbow and led me up the steps. “The first floor is actually the garage, which is accessed from the street that runs in back.”

  I nodded absently, then turned back toward the river. A speed boat skipped over the water despite the cold temperature. I turned back toward the house as Pearl opened the door. I couldn’t help but gasp. A bronze chandelier with intertwining vines and leaves dripped crystal rain drops in the two story foyer. The entire first floor and the staircase boasted a gleaming dark stained wood. The entryway was breathtaking.

  Pearl nudged me inside. The French doors to my right led to a library, which contained a dark walnut desk and an entire wall of built in shelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling. A sliding ladder ran on a track alongside the shelves. The desk sat at the back of the room, facing a small sitting area that was positioned directly in front of the windows.

  The formal living room was located across from the library, on the other side of the foyer. Like the library, it had large windows overlooking the Potomac River. The living room included dark brown leather furniture. A thick ivory rug anchored the furniture in the room. My eyes widened when I noticed the framed painting hanging over the gas fireplace. It was the Thames at Westminster.

  “A flat screen television is tucked behind the painting,” Pearl explained.

  I could have cared less. The painting was a Monet.

  We wandered past a powder room and a formal dining room before entering an open concept kitchen and family room at the back of the house. The kitchen held dark wood cabinets that matched the floor and black granite countertops flecked with copper. Three brushed copper lights hung from the ceiling over the center island. Wrought iron bar stools lined one side of the island. The six burner stove was gas, and all of the a
ppliances were stainless steel, including the wine refrigerator.

  French doors sat along the back wall, just between the kitchen and family room. They led to a large deck that had been converted into a sun room. The sun room was brimming with flowers and herbs, which was rather remarkable considering it was February. A wrought iron table with matching chairs sat nestled among the flowers. Lavender was the first thing I smelled when Pearl opened the door.

  “The deck can be heated in the winter and cooled during the summer,” Pearl explained. She pointed to the thermostat before handing me a remote that raised the glass windows and screens surrounding the deck. The device also controlled a large fan, which was spinning lazily over the table.

  The family room, which sat opposite of the kitchen, had a brown suede sectional couch. Half of the couch faced the kitchen. The other half of the couch faced a handsomely carved walnut cabinet with a television that lifted out of the back. The cabinet was flanked by windows and matching leather chairs.

  Pearl and I gradually made our way upstairs. There were three large bedrooms on the top floor, each with its own bathroom. The master bathroom had a spa tub and a double shower in a soft white travertine tile. I sat on the bed in the master bedroom as we finished the tour. I looked around the room, completely awestruck by the warmth and beauty that surrounded me. My gaze finally landed on Pearl. I shook my head. “This place is so far out of my price range, it isn’t funny. I don’t even want to ask what it costs.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to ask.”

  My skepticism quickly turned to confusion.

  She hurriedly continued. “The owner of this property is going to be living in Switzerland for the next two years. His relocation was a bit unexpected. Evidently, he has to fly out later this week. He approached me in search of someone he could trust to rent the place… someone who wouldn’t mind if he left his things behind… well, everything but his clothes, of course. He’s willing to rent the place at a reasonable price, but only if I find someone who can be trusted to take very good care of the place. I immediately thought of you.”