All the Pretty Poses

by M. Leighton

  “It appears she was, in fact, an illegitimate child, sir.”

  “Do you know whose?”

  “I do.”

  There’s a long pause during which I have to bite my tongue and keep a firm hold on my temper. “Well? Are you going to tell me who?”

  “She was yours, sir.”

  I stand so fast my desk, which is bolted to the cabin floor, creaks. “What?”

  My mind races back through all the women I’ve slept with, wondering who I might’ve accidentally impregnated. But I’m always so careful. I always have been.

  But then, like the first domino in a long line, one telling puzzle piece falls into place and kicks all the others over.

  My world is shaken.

  Thirteen years ago.

  “Who was the mother?” I ask, my heart racing.

  “Kennedy Moore, sir.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX- Kennedy

  It’s cold upon my return to Chicago. My fingers shiver as I turn my house key in the knob. It’s not the eighty-two degree outdoor temperature, of course. It’s the internal hypothermia that has settled into my soul, a bone-deep chill that I just can’t shake.

  When I push open my front door, a legal-sized, manila envelope is on the tile in the foyer. In what feels like slow motion, I scoot it out of the way to roll my suitcase inside. Someone must’ve squeezed the package under the weather stripping. With my last bit of energy, I reach for it to check the name and address on it. I don’t recognize it, so I toss it on the counter to open later, once I’m unpacked. Once I can think a little better. Once I can move with less effort.

  I wheel my case into my bedroom and park it at the foot of the bed. Exhausted, I perch on the end of the mattress. Every step I’ve taken away from Reese has felt like I’ve walked a mile. Every breath I take seems to be almost more energy than I can expend. The minutes crawl by like lifetimes and each lifetime stretches out into a succession of long, arduous moments of pure misery.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, closing my eyes. In the blackness behind them, in the split second that my mind isn’t otherwise occupied, my thoughts return to Reese, as they have every few minutes since the agonizing one when I left him on the ship two days ago.

  Hours pass before I even move off the bed, and more still before I make my way into the kitchen to feed Bozey. As I scrape food from a can into his bowl, I notice the lightly bronze hands at work. My hands. I’m reminded of my time in the sun. My time with Reese.

  I manage to get Bozey’s food on his mat before I wilt into the floor, before I let go once more the tears that seem to have no end.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- Reese

  I grit my teeth and suppress a growl of frustration as I get transferred to yet another useless imbecile at the offshore bank that I use. I wish for the millionth time that there were more hours in the day, and more minutes in the hours. I need time. I need more of it and I need it to move faster. The faster I can get things done, the faster I can get to Kennedy.

  Since I watched her being ferried away from my boat four days ago, an urgency has been building inside me. I work tirelessly toward my goal, but still the urgency builds. With every day it escalates, it escalates to…here. Here, where I can’t move any faster. Here, where I can’t make others move any faster. But I have to try. Because I have to get to Kennedy. I have to get to Kennedy, but I have to get this done first. I can’t go to her with anything less.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT- Kennedy

  Hours have passed. Days have passed. Clive has come to check on me. He must’ve seen me return a few days ago. I’m not surprised. He’s always pressed up against his front window, watching the goings on of his neighbors.

  More than once, he has kindly offered an ear, and then a shoulder once he got a good look at my ravaged face. I’ve declined both offers, telling him that I’m just tired and that I need some time alone.

  By the sixth day—six excruciatingly long, empty days since I left Reese—I’m not sure I’ll recover this time. The love that a twenty-nine year old woman feels is far, far different than that of a fifteen year old girl. I have no doubt that I loved Reese even then, all those years ago, but I know it paled in comparison to what I feel for him now. I’ve loved him and hated him with equal measure. Why can’t I just not care?

  Day and night have lost their meaning. I’m up all hours and sleep in short bursts. The shades are always drawn to keep the harsh world out and me in. So when the bell rings, I don’t realize it’s the middle of the night until I answer the door and see the pitch black surrounding Reese’s beautiful face.

  My heart finds a hole in the floor and drops completely out of sight. While I wish I could hate him for all that he’s done to me, I thrill at the tingle that I get from his closeness. It’s as though all my cells are excited by the presence of his, the way water is excited by heat.

  I say nothing. I just stand and stare at him. I could stand and stare at him for the rest of my life and never get tired.

  He says nothing either, just lets his eyes rove over my face. Finally, he moves, but only one hand, which he raises to brush over my cheek.

  “You’ve been crying,” he says softly.

  “Yes,” I answer flatly.

  “Over me.”

  “Yes.” There’s no sense denying it.

  His eyes glow with profound sadness that even I can see. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Because I’m an ass, Kennedy. Because I’m a driven, selfish ass just like my father. But mostly because I was completely unprepared. For this. For you.” Reese takes a step toward me. Slow, tentative, like he’s afraid I’ll spook. “I didn’t see you coming, Kennedy. I didn’t see you coming fourteen years ago and I didn’t see you coming two months ago. I let things get in the way last time, but I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.”

  “There’s nothing you can do, Reese. I won’t be the other woman. I can’t do that. I worked too hard to find something worthy in myself to let you destroy it for money. I just…I just can’t do that.”

  “And you shouldn’t have to. You should be first. You are first. I just failed to see that I wasn’t putting you first. But I do now. I see it and I need for you to know that you’re the only thing that matters to me. I can’t let you go. Not again. Not ever again. Not even if you tell me to leave. Not even if you beg me to walk away. I can’t do it. You gave me something real in the woods that summer. You made me feel.

  “I’ve made millions, I’ve dined with diplomats, I’ve had the very best of everything in life, but I’ve never felt happy, really happy, until you told me you’d work on my boat. And every moment since then has been the best of my existence. Until you walked away.”

  He pauses, staring down at me with those gorgeous blue-green eyes, turning my heart, my soul, my world upside down all over again.

  “I’m here for you, Kennedy. I’ve come for you. Without anything else…just me…I’m laying me…all of me…at your feet and begging you to take it. Give me one more chance.”

  “Reese, I can’t—”

  He interrupts me before I can continue. “I broke it off with Claire. No amount of money or business connections or opportunities or investments or contracts are worth losing you. I gave it all up. For you. I sold the boats and the businesses, it’s all gone. I sold yesterday, tomorrow and forever for you,” he declares, no doubt referring to the names of his boats, Ieri, Domani and Sempre. “The only forever I want is with you. Nothing in my life means more to me than you. No money, no power, no possessions. I don’t need any of that. I only need you. I. Only. Need. You.”

  “Wh-what?” I whisper, afraid I might’ve heard what I want to hear rather than what Reese is really saying.

  “I got rid of it all. From the time you left, I spent thirty-one hours straight pouring over books and crunching numbers, talking with attorneys and preparing proposals. Making phone calls at all hours of the day and night. I couldn’t wait. I could
n’t wait to get rid of every empty thing that might stand in our way so that I could chase you down and prove that I’d do anything for you. Anything. Just say it and it’s done. I don’t want a life away from you. You are my life. I want you to be my life. And I want to be yours.”

  “But Reese, everything you’ve worked for …”

  “Is hollow. It’s just money. Worthless when compared to you. I’ve still got more than I could spend in a hundred lifetimes, but if that’s a problem, then I’ll throw it all away for you. I’ll be destitute if that’s what it takes. I need you to understand that there is nothing…nothing…in this world that’s more important to me than you.”

  “I never asked you to do this, Reese. I didn’t want you to give up everything for me.”

  “But can’t you see that I’d do it without blinking an eye if I thought it would bring you back to me? I did do it. For you. I don’t need the boats or the women or the distractions anymore. All that was filling a hole that only one person could ever fill, only one person did ever fill. And I wasn’t about to hold onto that shitty life and lose the only one I’ve ever wanted—a life with you.”

  “Reese, you shouldn’t have done that. Not for me.”

  “Fine, then I did it for me. I did it because those things don’t make me a better person. You do. I did it because those things don’t make me happy. You do. I did it because I was afraid that words alone couldn’t show you that I’m in it for real this time, Kennedy. I’ll chase you forever if I have to. I’ll never give up on winning your heart. Just please tell me that it’s not too broken to give away. Please tell me that I’m not too late. I worked as fast as I could.”

  “Reese, I don’t know. It’s all just…so…so…I can’t think.”

  “I don’t want you to think,” he says, grasping my upper arms urgently. “I want you to feel. Feel how much I love you. Feel how desperate I am, standing here in your doorway in the middle of the night, jetlagged as hell, ready to drop to my knees and beg you if that’s what it takes. Feel me, Kennedy,” he says, taking my left hand and pressing it to his chest over his heart. “Feel me.”

  I do feel him. I feel his love and his sincerity and the way his heart is racing under my palm. I know it’s an echo of the frantic rhythm of my own.

  “Please,” he whispers, leaning closer and closer until his lips are pressed to my forehead, my hand still pressed to his chest. “Please, Kennedy.”

  I feel the sting behind my eyes again and I know I can’t stop the tears that well there then spill over to run down my cheeks.

  “Okay,” I say in a small, trembling voice.

  Reese’s chest falls under my fingertips, as though he was holding his breath. “Say it again,” he croaks.

  “Okay.”

  And then I’m crushed, crushed inside arms of steel, crushed beneath tender lips, crushed with a love that feels as steadfast and true as my own.

  Reese leans back just enough to let me catch my breath. He cups my face, his thumbs stroking the tears from under my eyes.

  “Please don’t cry anymore, baby. Not for me.”

  “These are happy tears,” I admit with a shaky smile.

  “Then cry yourself to sleep on me,” he says softly, bending to pick me up. “Let me hold you until there are no more tears.”

  Reese pulls me in tight against him and I wrap my arms around his neck, turning my face into the curve of his throat. I taste the salt of my happiness as it pours down my cheeks and wets his skin.

  Reese carries me to the sofa. Minutes or hours or days later, I wake to find that I’m still curled in his arms. He’s fallen asleep beneath me, upright on the couch, his fingers laced at my waist so that he won’t accidentally let me go.

  CHAPTER THRITY-NINE- Reese

  Each time I wake up, I glance down to make sure Kennedy is still with me. And she is. Curled up in my arms, sleeping like she hasn’t slept in days. Which, if her last few days were anything like mine, she probably hasn’t.

  Maybe this means things are getting better. Maybe we can finally have what we should’ve had all those years ago.

  As I close my eyes and drift back to sleep, my last thought is to wonder when she’s going to tell me about the baby.

  CHAPTER FORTY- Kennedy

  My mind wakes not to the ultimate peace and happiness that it should. No, it wakes to the knowledge that now the only person who hasn’t come clean is me.

  There’s something I have to tell Reese, something that he has a right to know. My intentions were good in keeping it to myself all this time—I thought only of Reese and how it would affect him—but now I wonder if I made a huge mistake.

  There’s only one way to know for sure…

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE- Reese

  I decided days ago that I’d wait for Kennedy to tell me about the baby. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have told me already, but I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. So I’m going to give her time. Well, at least as long as I can before others start to find out.

  I asked Bingham to keep the information to himself until I was back in the states. I probably have until tomorrow before he tells my father who Mary Elizabeth is. But I’m going to tell him first. I want him to hear it from me. And I want him to know that there’s no reason for him to address it any further. Legally or otherwise. I want Kennedy to have half of Bellano. I would’ve wanted our daughter to have it all.

  I tried to reach my father earlier, but he wouldn’t take my call. So here I am, driving out under the guise of getting lunch to try again, but with no luck. It’s when I pull up outside Kennedy’s townhouse that I realize why he wouldn’t take my call. He had plans of his own. His car is parked directly beside where mine was earlier.

  I grab the bags of food from the passenger seat and I make my way to the door, cautioning myself to remain calm. That’s hard to do when it comes to Kennedy, though. The thought of anyone…anyone…giving her grief makes my blood boil.

  When I walk in the door, they’re facing each other right inside the entryway. Kennedy is holding a manila envelope and her face is unnaturally pale.

  Her eyes dart to me and I see them fill with a mixture of regret and fear and so much sadness that it makes my gut clench and my temper rise. Toward my father.

  “What’s going on? What the hell are you doing here?” I ask Henslow Spencer.

  “Reese,” he says, surprise evident in his tone and expression. “I was just…I was…we were…” My anger escalates as my father fumbles for some plausible explanation as to why he’s here, as he fumbles for a lie. “I was just catching up with Kennedy.” I see him glare at her as if daring her not to go along with his fabrication.

  Kennedy casts her eyes down and squeezes them shut before she speaks. “No, you weren’t. I’m not keeping this from him any longer,” she says quietly.

  My heart is pounding as Kennedy walks slowly to stand before me, her head bowed, her chin trembling. I know what she’s going to tell me. I already know what is weighing so heavily on her right now. But knowing it and hearing it from her, listening to her say the words, finding out the truth from her lips…those are totally different things.

  “What is it, beautiful?” I prompt her, setting down the bags of food, to lift her chin.

  She swallows hard and it kills me a little to imagine what she must be going through right now, what she must be feeling.

  “Reese, that time in the woods…all those years ago…I know you used protection, but something must’ve happened.” She looks up into my face, her heart in her eyes, tears shivering on the edge of her bottom lids. “I got pregnant.”

  I don’t have to feign the surge of emotion that rushes through me or the way my breath catches in my lungs. But it’s for that reason, for the pain that I feel watching her relive it to tell me, that I admit to her that I already knew. I can’t watch her do this. Not for me. Not when I can help ease her agony. “I know.”

  Confusion enters her eyes. “You know? How?”

  “A fe
w days ago, I got a call from Malcolm’s lawyer telling me who Mary Elizabeth Spencer was. She was named in the will, so he was trying to find her.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Guilt, not anger floods her expression.

  “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  “Oh, God, Reese!” she cries, burying her face in her hands. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her to me, wishing there was something I could do to help her, to take away her torment.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Please don’t cry.”

  “I wish I’d told you sooner,” she moans, sniffing back more tears.

  “I knew you’d tell me when the time was right.”

  “Reese, I’m so sorry,” she says, lifting her head to look into my eyes.

  “Don’t be. I just wish I’d been there for you. To see your belly grow with our baby. To hold her before she died,” I confess, my own bitter remorse choking my throat.

  “I wanted to tell you, but they wouldn’t let me.”

  My pulse thunders to a stop before it starts back up twice as fast. “Who is ‘they’? Kennedy, who wouldn’t let you tell me?”

  She turns to look at my father. “Your father and Hank made some kind of a deal for money. He agreed to pay Hank if Hank could keep the pregnancy quiet. That’s why Hank pulled me out of school and kept me locked up in the groundskeeper’s cottage. He wouldn’t let me leave. He turned off the phones and hid the car keys at night. He was furious, I guess because someone else had gotten me pregnant and he couldn’t play his games anymore. I think he wanted the baby to die right from the beginning. He barely let me eat and I got really sick. The two times that I tried to leave when I thought he was gone, he caught me and hit me until I couldn’t stand up. After the second time, he wouldn’t let me out of my room unless he was there. He kept me like that until I went in to labor, but it was too early.