Playing Heart to Get

by Kara Liane

  We would leave tomorrow after Dr. Hotness got done at the hospital. I made it a point to get my homework done tonight so I wouldn’t be bogged down by schoolwork over the weekend. I didn’t fool myself into thinking this would be a typical meet and greet with parental interaction, but I was going to be optimistic nonetheless. I knew very little about them and even though I had gleaned from Alexi that they were a loving family, I also realized they weren’t tight-knit like mine. Different worlds, different ways, and such.

  I had been furiously writing, studying, and organizing school materials what felt like for hours. I had a crick in my neck and stiffness in my back from poring over the monstrosity of documents strewn about the living room.

  It must have been after 10 o’clock by now. I was so tired. Being so fatigued lately was really wearing on me, and I was afraid my immune system was low or something. Maybe I was susceptible to some kind of a bug from all the stress. I hoped I could perk up for this weekend. I did schoolwork for another thirty minutes and decided my eyes shouldn’t be put through this trauma any longer. I crawled into bed with Alexi who was reading his physician’s notes, and passed out for the night before he could say “boo.”

  When I awoke Friday morning, I felt marginally better and a little rested. I needed to pack, pack away. I got my things together for the weekend, and tackled more assignments. I knew this would all be worth it in the end when I would have my own career. Once I graduated, then my days would be filled with resume-writing, job applications, and hopefully interviews. Alexi got home a little later than planned, but we loaded up the car quickly and zipped on up to the Hamptons.

  It was another beautiful drive on our way to our destination, and this was becoming a favorite thing of mine being able to travel with him. There was lots of traffic of course so what would have been three and half hours, now turned into over four hours; but I didn’t mind. Alexi and I were alone together, and that’s what I cared about. My time with him was always valued and precious. He worked so hard and I admired him so much for his dedication to his profession. He never really talked about work too much, and I never wanted to press the issue because I figured he liked leaving his work at the hospital. I liked that because when it was us, it was just us. I did convince him, however, that we should start a compost pile. So at least I was rubbing off on him in some small ways. Maybe my next goal would be to trade in his BMW for a Prius—I know I’m evil, right?

  At one point, when Alexi gassed up the car and ran inside to the convenience store, I let my mind wonder back to Monday’s dreaded phone call. I had contacted the police precinct that had handled my case, and filled in one of the detectives on the matter. He agreed that there was no way to prove it was Greg, and it was a lost cause obtaining fingerprints. Even with the envelope being stamped and processed in Texas, that certainly didn’t point to Greg.

  The detective did say he would pay Greg a visit just to talk, and see if he could scare him into admitting to the letter. I told the detective I would scan and email him the letter for his use. I was not hopeful it would lead to anything, but figured it was worth a shot. He gave me some tips that I’d heard a thousand times before regarding safety, security, and precautions; but I obediently listened anyway. Our conversation was pretty cut and dry, but he did say he didn’t think I had anything to worry about. Jeez, I wish I could share his confidence.

  So we arrived at his parents’ house and it was every stereotype—in a good way—of what I pictured the Hamptons to be. Columns-galore lined the front wraparound porch. The exterior was beautifully done in stone in varying shades of slate grey, with balconies everywhere. It looked like a mansion; it probably was. What did qualify a house to be a mansion anyway?

  The horseshoe driveway was inviting, and of course it was gated, so Alexi punched in a code for us to enter. The gardening and landscaping was to die for. Oh-em-gee, I didn’t know where to look first. I could see a huge pool out back as we approached from the gate. This was no modest living, and I would never begrudge anyone for a place like this because this was my new fantasy house. Although, I could never live in a place like this because I liked being a simple gal, but I wouldn’t mind visiting when we got the chance. The high pitched-roof gave it the look of classic architecture, but I imagined it was more modern inside, and far from classic—I of all people knew appearances could be deceiving.

  Alexi parked his car in their enormous detached garage to the left of the house, and we walked through the breezeway to get to the front door. He was holding my hand and pulling me along. I made a mental note to pick up my jaw from the ground at some point. Stone pathways lined the property, and the front door was adorned with a gorgeous fresh springtime wreath that was so tastefully done. Clearly his mom had an eye for all things expensive and luxe. Alexi didn’t even knock, and we walked right in. Well duh, it is his parents’ house! As we walked inside, the beachy white décor was breathtaking. I felt like I was in a movie. I was right that everything was modern, but still kept to the appropriate theme of the locale.

  Alexi yelled from the entryway, “Mom? Dad? We’re here!”

  I could hear his voice echo through the house. It must have gone on for miles. I kept looking around expecting to wake up from this dream. Who would have thought that little Caylan Bree Peters would be standing in a place like this? Certainly not me. I heard voices coming from the right wing, yup there was in fact a right wing of the house, and in walked two very polished looking individuals. Wow, Alexi’s parents were stunning. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Alexi’s father looked just like him, just an older, more distinguished version with salt and pepper hair. He was dressed in tan linen pants, with a plum polo shirt. He wore loafers and the whole beachy, retired, hot older guy thing was working for him.

  His mother, however, was dressed to the nines. She was still quite the beauty her adoring son said she was. Her skin was so tight and pulled high, but not in that cat-like overdone, scary way. Clearly her husband was a wonder-boy of his craft. She had the body of someone my age, and I knew she had to be the envy of all her peers. She was wearing a beautiful silk sleeveless green blouse, and an ivory pencil skirt. She had in diamond earrings with a matching necklace and tennis bracelet. Her ivory heels had to be designer. I thought that she should be in an ad campaign for Chanel for sure. Immediately Alexi kissed his mom on the cheek in a delicate manner—I assumed not to smudge her face. Then he did that half-hug guy thing with his dad, and clapped him on the back.

  Alexi then pulled me to him and stated, “Here she is. Caylan, these are my parents. Dr. Randolph Graham and Mrs. Juliet Graham. Mom and Dad, this is my Caylan.”

  I loved that he said my. It’s the little things that make me gooey inside. I smiled at his words, and then looked his parents in the eye and commented, “It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for having me. Your home is beyond magnificent.” I looked around as I was talking, still admiring the interior of the house.

  “Thank you, dear. You are more than welcome. We’re happy to have you. It’s about time this one brought a bright, stunning woman to meet us,” his dad acknowledged. He jabbed his son playfully in the stomach when he finished speaking, and then shook my hand in the most warmest, friendliest manner.

  “Charmed to meet you. You are as beautiful as Alexi said. Do make yourself at home,” his mom spoke, and she air kissed me on each cheek—I knew my practicing with Meg would come in handy, and I giggled to myself.

  His parents gestured for us to come in to the main living room. “Sweetheart, why don’t we let them get settled and freshen up before supper? That way Alexi can give Caylan the grand tour while there’s still light out. Dinner will be served in the dining room in an hour. Just let Lillyanne know if you need anything,” Juliet announced.

  His dad nodded in agreement and they wandered off to their own quarters, I presumed. When they were out of earshot—hopefully—I was jumping out of my skin with questions, excitement, and anxiousness.

  “Who’s Lillyanne?�
� I asked, wanting to fire away with questions. He laughed at me I think because he knew I was all over the place.

  “She’s the housekeeper my parents have on staff whenever they retreat here. She’s been working for our family since before I was born,” he replied still laughing.

  I could see there was also affection in his eyes when he spoke of this woman, perhaps some admiration too. My mouth hung open again thinking about having staff.

  Jeez, he mentioned a cook when he was younger, but I couldn’t imagine having a housekeeper—different worlds indeed.

  Okay, next question. “I feel like a little kid for asking, like I need to pass you a note in homeroom with a ‘circle yes or no.’ But do you think your parents like me?” I rambled out.

  He stopped laughing and smiling, and got serious instantly. “Yes. I think they really do. But even if they didn’t, does it really matter? I love you and that’s all anyone needs to know,” he affirmed. Then he smiled mischievously and continued with, “I told them only the good things.”

  He smacked me on my butt and kissed me sweetly on the lips. Okay, all was forgotten now when his lips met mine. I deepened the kiss, and he groaned and held me in place at the hips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging for dear life. We were lost in the moment and I didn’t realize where we were—or what we were doing—until a feminine throat cleared in blatant interruption. We both froze and were wide-eyed like two necking teenagers caught in the woods. We looked to our left in the direction of what appeared to be the kitchen. A woman looking like a Betty Crocker grandma had on an apron and was tucking in her lips, as if trying to stifle a laugh.

  “My dearheart boy, I see nothing ever changes with you,” she laughed.

  He released me and walked to the woman and enfolded her in a warm hug. “Lillyanne, you make it sound like I’m always surrounded by beautiful women. I am, but you are my favorite, though,” Alexi teased as he gave her a kiss on her cheek.

  I loved seeing this. He loved his parents, but he was much more formal with them. I suspected he had a big soft spot for Lillyanne.

  “Come meet my angel,” he whispered to her.

  I was gooey again hearing this term of endearment. I’d be melted on the floor in a few minutes if he didn’t stop.

  “Lillyanne, this is Caylan,” he said with a big ta-da sweeping motion of his arm.

  I felt like a curtain should be raised or something. Lillyanne looked me up and down with assessing eyes and was beaming. Maybe Alexi was right, I didn’t need his parents’ approval—I needed this woman’s approval.

  “Dear child, you are quite lovely in an angelic way for sure. I can see your nickname is very fitting,” she surmised with great sincerity.

  I said hello, and she proceeded to embrace me in a grandmotherly hug. I clutched her in return as if I’d done it a thousand times, and she patted my cheek. The gesture reminded me of my Grams on my dad’s side, who had since passed on. I instantly loved this woman and knew she was Team Caylan.

  “Well, I just wanted to say hello,” she admitted, wiping her clean hands on her apron. “You kids have fun, and be good,” she sing-songed as she exited the room.

  This would be a fun weekend for sure.

  Chapter 22: An Affair for the Books

  Alexi

  I took Caylan on a tour of the grounds. We went for a dip in the pool since the weather was warm now. Her bathing suit was conservative, which I assumed was out of respect for my parents. But I hoped she didn’t fucking think we’d act like virgins this weekend! No fucking way was that going to happen no matter whose roof we were under.

  Dinner was delicious. Lillyanne outdid herself as she always did. She made my favorite Shepherd’s pie dish. I had too many helpings, but I couldn’t regret it. My mother would have preferred a more refined meal I’m sure, but I was thankful Granny Lil—as I sometimes called her—didn’t give in to my mom’s demands every time.

  I was so happy to see Caylan get along with everyone. I knew she would, but it was still nice to see first-hand. I was going to talk to my dad tonight about proposing to my angel. I certainly didn’t need his advice, permission, or approval, but I still wanted to do the honorable thing and let them know first. Then when Caylan and I returned to the city, I knew I’d have to set up a time to talk with her parents to get their blessing and permission. Then all that would be left to do would be to plan the proposal, and to actually fucking ask her.

  After dinner and dessert—which I was too stuffed to eat but somehow found extra room for the coconut cream pie—my dad and I retreated to his study. Dad poured us each a scotch on the rocks, and we sat down in his high wingback leather chairs. Well, I kind of plopped down given my full fucking stomach. Cigars were on the menu as well because that’s what wealthy men did. This wasn’t my thing, but I did it for the sake of Dad. I didn’t like this shit, but that’s what you did besides sail and go golfing upon retirement, I guess. My mom and Caylan were supposed to have coffee out on the veranda. So I hoped the women were going to continue to get along while us men were left to our own devices. I crossed my leg over my other knee and decided I’d go for it.

  “So Dad, I told you on the phone I love her. Well, it’s more than that. I’m going to marry her. I haven’t asked her yet, but I will soon. I just wanted you to know first,” I stated with confidence.

  He puffed on his cigar and nodded his head. He was not a complex man. He said and did what he wanted, and it was always black and white with him—no grey to muddy these waters. I admired my dad for many things, and this was one of them.

  “I suspected as much, son. You’ve never brought a woman here. Since she’s living with you, I also thought that was a dead giveaway. I’m happy for you, if you’re happy,” he replied with acuity.

  I nodded back willing myself not to be so formal. This was in fact my dad, but we’d never been anything but what we were doing right now. The fishing trips were great when I had those growing up, but they were few and far between. I loved my dad and knew he loved me. I just wished it was different. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him to give his work up. He still looked like the same man, but I feel he aged quite a bit since ending his career. Maybe it would be different now between us since he was retired, and now that I was getting married. My parents had been after me for years about this very subject.

  I knew my mom would be over the moon when I told her about my plan. I would do that privately too—maybe after Caylan went to bed. I think things could also be different when I eventually would have children of my own. I didn’t know the future with my dad, but I was certain that Caylan coming into my life was the best thing that ever happened to me. My once self-proclaimed cold heart was almost fully thawed out. I thought of the scene in the movie The Grinch, when the heart grew so large, it broke through the screen—this was reminiscent of what was occurring internally for me. Caylan saved my life in many ways, and I hoped I’d get the chance to save hers.

  ***

  Caylan

  The veranda was opulent to boot, and this hidden paradise on the back of the house was an oasis unlike any I’d ever seen. No wonder his parents loved to come here. Who wouldn’t want to live in a place where you felt like you were on vacation every day?

  I was in a floral cotton dress that I hoped matched the spirit of the weekend. It was dark outside now, but the lights in the gardens and ponds behind the house captured the beauty of the night. It was like a Midsummer’s Night Dream. I opted for tea again instead of coffee, afraid I’d embarrass myself with stomach issues. I was nervous, and lightly sipped at the drink. The delicate china in my hands made me a wreck, and it was probably rattling on the saucer each time I set it down. This tea cup had to cost more than my whole wardrobe. I smiled at Juliet every now and then, but was still skittish around her. She just seemed so perfect. I was getting ready to bolt at any moment if she somehow turned into the evil stepmother from every Disney movie.

  She sat there so demurely drinking her coffee. Sh
e had to have some kind of classical, or formal training. I pictured her at one of those charm schools spouting etiquette and words like graceful, grand, and ladylike—that was so not me, and I hoped she didn’t expect that.

  Her blonde hair had to be dyed, but there wasn’t a root in sight to say differently. It was piled artfully atop her head in the most intricate style. She looked like Grace Kelly. Here I sat in my rags-to-riches-wannabe-dress with limp, dark hair.

  The differences between us couldn’t be ignored, and I wished Alexi was here to help balance out the situation. He had that look just like his parents did, it was one of refinement and power. Even with him sporting khakis, a short sleeved white button-down untucked shirt, and boat shoes at dinner, he still looked regal. I didn’t know how he did it, but one of these days I’d unearth his secrets as to capturing that look and vibe. Maybe it was confidence. That is something I still lacked, but was trying to be better about. I knew enough about men that they did not like a woman constantly downing and doubting herself; that was such a bore, and I’m sure it was additionally unattractive. I wanted to be sexy, confident, and enticing. I wanted to be his equal.

  I was just about to comment on the beautiful night when Grace Kelly—I mean Juliet—spoke first. “So you and my son,” she simply remarked.

  That was it? Okay, not much to go on. This Graham clan was too reticent for my taste at times. What a frustrating lot they were. Her face wasn’t too expressive either, and I imagined it was because she didn’t want to line or mar her husband’s work. This was going to be difficult. I still didn’t know which side of the fence she was on, and I didn’t want to run up the white flag if I didn’t have to.

  I didn’t know what else to say or do, so I just responded with, “I love him.”

  Her eyes widened slightly either in surprise or acknowledgement. “That is quite evident even without the verbal confirmation,” she expressed.