by K. A. Tucker
“If it means getting another moment with you? Darian can whip me for all I care.” His eyes sparkle mischievously as he steals another kiss, which I happily grant him.
“I wish these nights would last longer.”
His gaze drifts from my mouth back to my eyes. “We can make tomorrow last forever if you want.”
Forever in our memories.
I swallow. And nod. Because I know I’m ready.
I’m still smiling as one of my campers, a little redhead named Suzie, slips her hand in mine and tugs me toward the door.
I walk along the path toward Cabin Seventeen at three in the afternoon, with that same exhilaration coursing through my veins that always does when I’m about to see Kyle. The faint sounds of shouts and splashes carry from the beach, as most counselors—including Christa—cool off in the water. There’s not a sound on this end of the camp.
“Kyle?” I call out, knowing that if he’s there, he’ll hear me through the open window.
“Yup,” comes a croaky response.
I step into the dim, stuffy cabin, to find him shirtless and stretched out in his bed in his swim trunks, his arm cast over his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. “Were you sleeping?”
“Trying to. It’s so hot.”
“Everyone’s out in the lake.” All the rain from the past two weeks has moved on, a heat wave trailing in behind it. Christa, who has taken it upon herself as “lead counselor” to know the seven-day weather forecast at all times, promises temperatures of close to 100 for the next week.
“I just needed a rest.”
“Took you a while to clean the pavilion, huh?” I struggle to keep my annoyance from my tone.
He groans. “You won’t believe how many of those little assholes stick gum to the underside of the picnic tables.”
“Darian made you scrape those off, too?”
“Yup. Why am I friends with Eric, again?”
“I don’t know, honestly.” I shake my head. “But you two are lucky that’s all you got for starting a food fight.” By the end of breakfast, the cement floor was littered with pancakes and bits of sausage. More than one kid ended up heading to their parents’ cars with syrup in their hair.
He rolls onto his side, his eyes showing worry. “You still mad at me?”
I sigh heavily. “No, but only because you didn’t get fired.”
“It was a heat-of-the-moment thing.” He yawns. “How was the Laundromat?”
“Uneventful.” I drop his basket of freshly washed and folded T-shirts, shorts, and boxers that I offered to run while doing my own laundry. Even though I was pissed at him.
“Thank you.” He grins, his sleepy gaze dragging over my tank top and cotton shorts. “You want a nap?”
I laugh.
“Can you lie with me anyway?” he asks softly.
“I can, but it’s really hot, Kyle.”
He toys with the drawstring of my shorts. “Maybe not if you take that off.”
Something about the way he says it—his voice, his gaze, the touch of longing in his words—makes my body shiver in the most pleasant way.
I swallow against my sudden nervousness.
Under his watchful eye, I shrug off my clothes until I’m standing in nothing, his eyes absorbing me. I don’t feel the least bit self-conscious, which is a far cry from how I was only weeks ago.
Lifting his hips off his bed, he slides his swim trunks off and casts them aside.
The stifling air in the cabin has turned electric with promise as I lie down atop the sleeping bag next to Kyle. Our uneven breathing tangles for a moment as the only sound to be heard, and then Kyle rolls over, fitting himself between my thighs, resting on his elbows as he peers down at me for several long moments.
“I’m so in love with you, Piper.”
I smile, reaching up to toy with strands of his spiky hair. “I love you, too, Kyle. I can’t even describe how much.”
Another moment passes and then he reaches next to him for his wallet.
The next thirty minutes will be ingrained in my memory forever—I don’t know how they possibly can’t be. Watching Kyle fumble with the condom to ease it on, tasting the salt on his lips from the hot summer day as he kisses me, feeling our hot, slick skin pressed against each other as he prods at my entrance, feeling him sink deeper and deeper in, past the painful pinch.
Hearing him whisper in my ear over and over again how much he loves me as our bodies rock back and forth against each other, finding a blissful rhythm in the dim, stuffy camp cabin on a sweltering summer afternoon.
Chapter 19
NOW
“It feels like forever since we last lunched. When was it, Mother’s Day?” My mom smooths her hand over her sleek blonde ponytail and then busies herself laying a cloth napkin over her lap to protect her cream-colored pants. She is the only woman I know who dares to wear cream-colored pants to an Italian restaurant.
“I’ve been busy. And you haven’t exactly been around, either.” We have a standing lunch date in our calendars the first Sunday of every month. We’ve taken turns canceling on each other the last two.
“I know, darling. I was hoping to have all the renovations finished by now, but this contractor does not seem to know what he’s doing. I won’t be recommending him.” She smiles. “But, I have to say, you are glowing. Is this about David?” She glances at my left hand, no doubt to check for the engagement ring.
“David and I are over. We will never get back together,” I say as slowly and firmly as I can, because neither of my parents seems to be able to let go of that dream.
“Well, who is it, then?”
“Who says it’s about a man?”
The waiter swings by to drop off a bottle of sauvignon blanc, saving me from having to discuss last night’s knee-buckling kiss from my first love. I tossed for hours in bed pondering it, my body a live wire, thoughts of Kyle churning in my mind, the wish to have him lying next to me overwhelming.
“So what are you doing in the city, anyway?” I rush to move the topic off me for the moment. “You said you were visiting someone?”
“Just a friend.” She brings her glass to her lips, letting it linger there a long moment, her eyes roaming the menu.
I make a point of holding my glass in the air. “Cheers, Mom.”
“Oh, right, of course.” She laughs, following suit to let our glasses clink. “I forgot.”
Cocktail etiquette is second nature to my mother. She never forgets. Which means she’s either lying or hiding something.
“A male friend?” I push.
She hesitates. “He is male, yes.” Another long moment passes and then finally she dares to meet my gaze, her rose-painted lips pursing with a small, knowing smile.
“Are you dating someone?” I whisper excitedly.
“I’m not exactly sure. We’re taking things slow.”
Lord knows it’s time. After her affair with the tennis player that summer I was at Wawa and the ensuing ugly divorce, there was a lengthy dating blackout period in Mom’s life, where she wouldn’t even broach the thought. There’ve been a few men since then—one who even managed to slip a ring on her finger for all of a week before she politely returned it.
It’s been at least two years since she last mentioned anything that sounds like a date, though I’m sure there’s been no shortage of suitors lurking.
“Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do?” I rifle off question after question.
She holds a perfect, manicured hand up in the air to quiet me. “It’s still in the early stages.”
“You have to tell me something!”
“Well. He’s . . . a man,” she begins.
I roll my eyes.
“He’s age-appropriate.”
“More than I can say for Dad, so thank you for that,” I mutter through a sip. While my mother could easily pass for a decade younger than her fifty-seven years, I’ve had enough of my parents dating people closer to my age than their
own.
She smirks. “He’s unexpected. And surprising.” Her blue eyes twinkle. “And that’s all I’m comfortable with saying at this point, so please don’t push. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Wow. It sounds like you really like this guy.”
“Honestly?” She lets out a shaky sigh. “I haven’t felt like this in forever, Piper. He brings out something in me that I thought I’d lost. Well, anyway, I’m really hoping this works out, yes.” She laughs. “Listen to me. I sound like a giggling, foolish teenager! Never thought I’d be revisiting those years.”
I snort, and nearly choke on my wine. You and me both.
“So? What’s new with you? You mentioned in your message that you wanted to talk about something.”
“Yeah.” I groan. “Dad.”
She holds a smile, but it turns tight. Forced. “What did he do now?”
“Not now, but I think he did something really shitty thirteen years ago.”
Leaning back in her chair, drink in hand as if arming herself, she mutters, “Go on.”
“Do you remember that guy from camp? Kyle?”
“Oh. Yes.” Her eyes widen knowingly. “You were a mess over that boy for your entire junior year, if I recall. Wallowing in your room for hours on end. You lost ten pounds that you didn’t have to lose, not eating. As if I’d ever forget about him.”
“I was in love with him, Mom. And only sixteen,” I remind her, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “And there was a lot going on back then, if you will recall. Marital affairs, a divorce—”
“Yes, I suppose,” she cuts me off, intently focused on her bracelet’s clasp for a moment. It took her a year to admit her indiscretions to me, long after the illicit high had faded and the lifelong regret had set in.
“Well, I found out that Dad paid Kyle to go away.”
The flash of recognition in her eyes answers me right away.
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? You knew!”
Her gaze flitters around us to make sure no one heard my outburst. “I didn’t know about it at the time. He didn’t tell me until months later. I swear, Piper. The tears, the moping, the not eating . . . it had been going on for so long that I finally mentioned maybe hiring one of your father’s people to track this boy down and get you some closure. That’s when your father told me the truth.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me then?”
“Why would I? Honey, he took the money! He chose money over you. Why would I want a boy like that in your life? No, I was furious with your father, but I didn’t disagree that this boy didn’t belong with our daughter. And don’t shake your head at me like that; you’ll understand one day,” she mutters through a sip of her wine, the glass already half-finished.
“Of course he took the money! You knew what kind of life Kyle came from. What that money could do for him and his family.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you also know Dad better than anyone else. He threatened Kyle, Mom. Can you imagine what it would have been like for seventeen-year-old Kyle to face that?” Just thinking about it now incites a deep burn of fury inside me.
She sighs with resignation. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because I ran into Kyle recently and he told me.”
“Really . . . Here, in Lennox?” She keeps her expression smooth, but I hear the wariness in her voice.
“Yes.”
“How’s he doing?” She watches me through shrewd eyes.
“He’s doing well. He was in San Diego, but he moved here recently. He’s working full-time. Security.” I intentionally leave out the part about where he’s working security, until I can figure out where my mother’s head is at with this. “He’s basically cut off all ties with his family, except for his younger brother, who has made something of himself.”
“That’s . . . good.” She pauses and then feigns casualness to ask, “So, is he dating? Or married?”
“No, Mom. He’s single.” I meet her steady gaze with my own.
“I see,” she murmurs quietly. “I guess that explains this effervescent glow.” The waiter passes by to take our orders and collect our menus, stalling the conversation. “Does your father know about you two . . . reconnecting?” she asks when we’re alone again.
“We haven’t yet. Not exactly.” Our mouths have reconnected and it was euphoric. “And, no, after what Dad did, I don’t plan on telling him anytime soon. I want to see if Kyle and I can salvage what we had before I have to deal with that problem.”
“I don’t know if there will be any dealing with your father about this.” She lets out a derisive chuckle. “He’s still holding out hope that you’ll come to your senses over David. At least I assume so, if I know your father at all.”
“Oh, no, he has now moved on to ambushing high-rolling lawyers at galas.” I tell her about last night’s guerrilla-style Sternum introduction.
She groans. “I swear, that man . . .” She traces the rim of her wineglass with her fingertip as she considers me. “Do you still care about Kyle?”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him,” I admit.
“And are those feelings mutual?”
I smile, thinking about the feel of his body pressed against mine last night. “Yes. But he’s convinced we can’t work, and he’s not willing to try. He says he can’t handle losing me again.” Which only makes my heart ache for him more.
Her blue eyes drift out the window, past the sun-soaked boardwalk and milling pedestrians to the river, as if searching for an answer out among the sailboats floating in the distance. “Piper, you know that I understand, better than anyone, that a bank account shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with,” she says carefully, a worried look on her face. “But you are going to be running Calloway Group one day.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve already heard this from Dad.”
“And now you can hear it from me. You’re going to be running Calloway Group and you’re a woman. Right or wrong, you will always be dealing with men who think you are lesser, simply because you are a woman.”
“I’m fully aware of all that, Mom.”
“I know you are. Just . . . keep it in mind when you choose who you have standing beside you in life, because as hard as it may seem now, the weight on your shoulders when your father is no longer in the picture is going to be tremendous. You’ll need someone who can hold you up when that weight gets to be too much. Someone who’s there to catch you when you fall, and help you get back up.” She reaches out to pat my hand affectionately. “Maybe Kyle is it. Though it sounds like he already has low expectations for you two lasting, and I’m not sure that’s the right foot to be starting off any relationship on, forget one with you.”
“He’s scared.”
She purses her lips. “Then be sure that what you’re feeling is real. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt a second time by him. ”
“Kyle didn’t hurt me the first time. Dad did.”
“Fair enough. Still . . .”
“Dad’s making me so angry lately.” I break off a piece of flatbread and nibble on it, savoring the potent rosemary and oil drizzle. “Though he surprised me last night, by admitting to being wrong about the way he’s handling Tripp.”
“Yes, I’ve heard you’re having problems. I talked to Rhett,” she adds when I give her a questioning look.
I should have known. At least the little gossip kept his mouth shut about Kyle.
Mom smiles softly. “You know, you’re more like your father than you’d like to admit. You’re both hardworking and tenacious. And sometimes you get so wrapped up in your big, lofty plans that you lose sight of the little things that are just as important to you. Take some time to remind your father of that. He’ll come around, eventually. Oh!” she manages through a sip, her brows curving ever so slightly—either from recent Botox injections or her own natural impulse to keep facial expressions to a minimum, to avoid needing further Botox treatments—“speaking o
f Wawa, since you brought it up . . . Jackie told me they shut it down.”
“Seriously?”
“I know!” Her voice is full of dismay. “Ruth was going to send Robert this summer but when she went to register, they said it was closed.”
“They must be so upset.” My mom’s older sister, Jackie, and my cousin, Ruth—eight years older than me—all attended Wawa in their youth. Robert would have been the third generation of my mother’s family to attend. “Do you know why?”
Mom shrugs. “Time to move on, maybe? I’ve asked my agent to keep an eye on the property, in case they put it up for sale.” She smiles secretively behind a sip of her wine. “Wouldn’t that be something? I could buy it just to spite your father.”
“Not a bad idea.” I clink my glass with hers. “Maybe we can go in on it together, so if I end up back with Kyle and I’m forced to leave Calloway Group, we can run the camp.” Dating a starving writer was one thing; Dad would never be able to stomach his daughter settling down with our building’s security guard, let alone one with the Miller gene pool’s rap sheet lingering in the shadows.
“I really hope it doesn’t come to that.” Her lips purse in thought. “I know it sounds harsh, but I think you need to consider the positives about what your father did. You were only sixteen and you still had a lot of growing up to do. Think about it . . . Brown, then Wharton, and the internships to get you where you are now. How would you have managed keeping your priorities straight while carrying on with a boy like this Kyle? I mean, you were fired from your summer job because of him, Piper.”
“Don’t blame Kyle. That was as much my fault as it was his. And what’s going on with you? It sounds like you’re making excuses for Dad’s shady behavior.”
“No.” She holds her manicured hand in the air. “I most certainly am not excusing your father’s behavior. I’m just trying to help you see past your anger and think about this logically.” She offers me a sympathetic smile. “We’re your parents. We only ever want you to be happy. But we’re also human and have our own set of experiences that have shaped how we see life. Our own pitfalls that we’ve tumbled into. Sometimes it’s hard to stand by and let your children learn the hard way. And sometimes we screw up. But I promise you, whatever your father did, it wasn’t through selfish or malicious intent. He has always had your best interests in mind.” She shrugs. “And it sounds like his methods, however twisted they may have been, helped this boy in the long run, too.”