by Dakota Gray
It wasn’t.
She’s here for the fucking good guy.
I pull back. Her gaze is hazy, soft...vulnerable.
I keep pulling back until I’m off the bed. I keep putting space between us until I can tug off the condom to toss it into the toilet. I move to the sink and lean against it. I don’t bother to meet my gaze in the mirror. I don’t think I’ve ever liked the man looking back.
“Duke?”
I brace at her voice and then I remember who the fuck I am. I stride into my bedroom and pick up her clothes. I hold her gaze when I drop them on the bed. “You should get dressed.”
Her brows furrow and she pulls the comforter over her nakedness. “What?”
“I’m tired and I have to work tomorrow.”
Realization of what I’m doing comes to her in slow degrees. I watch as she pales. “Is this your way of proving you’re morally bankrupt?”
“I was never the person who needed proof. I told you who I am.”
“God, what is wrong with you?”
She doesn’t bother with her bra or panties, just slips into her dress, her actions jerky from the anger I know is boiling inside her. She climbs out of the bed and pushes me back with both hands on my chest. “All because I became friends with your mother. What the fuck, Duke?”
That’s what she reduces it to. “I don’t give fuck you became friends with my mother.”
“No? Then why are you pissed? Why are you doing this?”
My shoulders bunch. “How many times did you lie to yourself that not telling me was okay? If it wasn’t a big deal you would have. So why? Why feel any guilt?”
“Maybe I didn’t want solid proof you were an asshole.”
I take the hit with a roll of my shoulders. “Right. I’m the asshole while you’ve been lying to me.”
“Lied? I just didn’t tell you.”
“And that’s better? How did you really know my mother didn’t teach me to cook? And when I asked, point blank, you said some fucked up thing about me being entitled. How many times did you do that? How many times have you just not told me because I’m the asshole?” I shake my head not really wanting the answer. “We’re done. I think I can finally accept that now.”
She gasps, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “You fucked me knowing you were going to do this, but you’re the hurt party?”
And that makes my temper flash hot. “Like you did? What did you say to me when you had barely finished swallowing my come? We needed time. I wasn’t good enough for you so let’s wait until you’re a decent person. You gave me a whole fucking speech and my dick was still wet from your mouth.”
She pales again. I step forward and meet her gaze head fucking on. “Yeah. This whole goddamn time I was waiting for you to come to my side of the fence, and you’ve been there the whole time. You want to talk about me being morally bankrupt, but what are your excuses?” I take another step and lean down so we’re eye to eye. “Tell me. I’m dying to hear how you rationalize toying with me when the mood strikes you.”
“We had sex the first time because for once in your life, that night, you were Duke. You weren’t an Alexander. You laughed with me. And while I could still taste you, you told me you’d only screwed me because you were drunk.”
“What?”
“How did you put it? Alcohol makes you do dumb shit? It’s real awesome to hear how the one time you were brave and ignored all the warnings was just a stupid, drunk decision for someone else.” She tilts her chin up. “So maybe...I kept my mouth shut about your mother because didn’t want to hear how I must have had some ulterior motive. Or whatever convoluted reason you would come up with, because once again I caught you while your guard was down. I had hoped I was wrong, but you’re right about hope. Thank you for teaching me that but...fuck you, Alexander, for doing it in a way that was cruel.”
I hiss. That right there is why I want her gone. She fucking knows how much I hate being called that. I’ve never told her, and yet she knows. “Get out.”
“Why? Because you realize despite everything you’re still your father’s son?”
“Get the fuck out.”
“I will never forgive you.”
“Are you sure? My mother might tell you about the time my father taught me chess for a summer and you’ll pity fuck me again.”
Her hand is up and I know I deserve the slap, but I catch her wrist. She’s trembling. Her eyes are dry, but she’s shaking. It’s the only sign of how much this affects her.
Her eyes narrow. “Pity isn’t love, but you’re too heartless to know the difference.” My fingers tighten at her words. “And, yes, your mother told me about the chess. She told me it was her happiest memory of the two of you. She told me it the first time we met. It’s why she crumbled after you walked away.”
My heartbeat pounds and I can’t say a fucking thing in response.
“Let me go,” she spits at me.
I do and I step away from her. I want to feel the depth of disgust that crosses her face, but she’s right. I cut out everything but loyalty and ambition. I don’t have a heart.
I don’t blame her for leaving me then and there. What more needs to be said? If I can’t face what I am in the mirror, how could she ever look at me?
I’ll be fine though. I have work. She’s my mistress, my only true love. She’s never condemned me for being hard-core.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Get me the goddamn file or find another attorney to work under.”
This is the new me now. I yell at Gwen every five minutes. She’s stopped flinching when I do. I’m pretty sure she’s planning to murder me at some point. I’ve long since stopped taking any coffee or food she makes me because I kind of deserve spit.
I turned into this man two weeks ago. Yeah. I don’t need a degree to know why.
Ten seconds later she comes into my office and closes the door.
“Duke.” Her voice, her entire demeanor is calm, soothing. I want to fire her. I have at least once a day but she keeps coming into my office when I buzz her on the intercom. “I’m still looking for the file. They shipped it over to civil for a time.”
“Shit. Might as well consider it dead and gone.”
“Yes, but Patrice thinks she has a copy of it somewhere. I have her looking for it.”
It’s reasonable and more than I hoped for. “You should have made copies. What good are you?”
“Do you need anything else?”
“I only need the damn file. I have a meeting with the DA about this case in two days.”
She inhales, deeply, and I know what she wants to say. “Okay. I’m going to order lunch for us. How do you feel about Mexican?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You look it.”
I’m too tired to work my way up to a death glare. “When does Gabriel get here?”
“He’s still with Preston, but he’ll be down soon.”
I scrub at my eyes. Feels like someone rubbed sandpaper into my eyelids. “Did you send the information about Trevor to Derek?”
“I did. Are you going to tell him what you found?”
Him being Gabriel. “If something comes of it. Call me when he comes down.”
“You can try to sleep and I’ll wake you when he gets here.”
I slam a book shut because it feels good. Also, because I’m a goddamn toddler now. “Stop mothering me.”
“Who will? If not for me, the Sec would have come up here and ripped your balls off. You refuse to call your mother back. And you’ve sent away Nate and Tarek when they’ve come here to check on you. All you have is me.”
Pity. The bitter tang of it fills my mouth. “You’re fucking fired. Get out.”
“You’d need Preston’s approval to get rid of me, and that goes through Sheila first. She’ll misplace your request. You’re stuck with me.”
“Fine. I quit.”
“I’ll bring lunch when it gets here.” She leaves on that note and I have nothing but re
spect for my battle-ax of a paralegal. I would have punched me in the nuts two weeks ago.
My personal cell buzzes and even though I know it’s either Pain In the Ass Friend 1 or Pain In the Ass Friend 2, I check the text. It’s PITA 2.
UR mom called.
I press send and Nate answers on the first ring. “What the hell do you mean she called you?”
“She invited Robyn and me to what she calls a family brunch.”
“Family brunch?”
“Yeah. Call her. She’s getting underhanded just to see you.”
I rest my head on my chair and swivel it to look at the view. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
I’m legitimately flummoxed. I’ve been friends with Nate and Tarek for eons. They’ve tagged along with me whenever my mother hosted an event and I didn’t want to be bored or corralled. They’ve come over on holidays, too, but she’s never invited them over without at least telling me. “What the hell?”
“I have a feeling we’re walking into a trap, but I can’t say no. Robyn loves your mother.”
My phone buzzes again, and it’s Tarek. I snort. “Your other friend is bringing a date. Wait.” I read the next text and it’s pretty much calling me a dumbass about Kennedy. I ignore it. “Yeah. That’s all he said.”
“It’s Tarek, that's not all he said. Is he bringing the woman from the gym?”
“Nate, focus.”
“Well we can talk about that or how you fucked up things with Kennedy.”
“Yeah. It’s the woman with the soft hips.”
He laughs at me for being a chickenshit. “I will see you tomorrow. Call your mom. I think she’s being ruthless because you’ve been ignoring her.”
“Likely.” The thing about my mother, though, is that she’s loyal and rarely rocks the boat. It’s how she managed to live in my father’s life with success. She smiled on cue, laughed on cue and threw one of hell of a party. No one noticed she was a goddamn shark but my father and I.
I’ve been ignoring her calls and dodging her visits. This is the only way to get me to see her. I can’t have Nate and Tarek show up without me. That’s fucked up even for me.
And the likely reason is that Gwen has been telling my mother everything I’m not doing—eating and sleeping being the top two. I’ve come into work every day and stayed until I’ve wanted to drop where I stood.
No one believes me when I tell them I’m fine. My work is all I need. I don’t need to catch glimpses of Kennedy in the office. No one took me at my word when I told them it was okay she sent Gabriel to deal with me.
Since none of that worked, I stopped talking to Nate and Tarek. I started firing Gwen. I ignored my mother. The less I think about Kennedy the better I am. I can stay focused on important shit. I’m not fucking dwelling.
But my mother is ruthless and I need to prep myself for tomorrow.
“Nate, work calls.”
“I bet it does.”
“You’re being that guy.”
“If you listened to me you wouldn’t be—”
I hang up the phone and turn off my cell. I focus on work.
*****
The maid lets me in, and I find my mother in front of the entertainment center in the living room. My steps slow when I see she’s wearing a floral print dress. The flowers are pink and orange. Since my father died, she’s only worn black or gray. She’s laughing at something Tarek has said. The sound isn’t rusty today. My friend’s arm hangs around the woman with the soft hips. She’s laughing too.
I’ve never hated happy people more in my life. I try to pretend like I don’t. I’m getting good at that. “Don’t tell me we’re going to be forced to watch sports all afternoon.”
My mother turns her smile my way and winks. “He’s asking me about the Kentucky Derby, and I’m sure I’ve DVR’d something he can watch.”
I wince on my friend’s behalf. “You’re making me question our friendship, Tarek.” I close the distance and offer his date my hand. “I’m Duke. You are?”
“Manners,” my mother chastises.
“Keisha.” Her dimples go in and her brown skin glows. “I’ve seen you around the gym haven’t I?”
“Always against my will.”
She laughs from the gut and means it. She’s pretty, too. I glare at Tarek because he’s going to defile her in some way then move on. But he’ll save her first. There’s that I guess. “Where’s Nate and Robyn?”
“They went for a walk around the grounds.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose since that means they are somewhere on the grounds trying to swallow each other’s faces. “When is brunch?” I ask that to my mother.
“Twenty minutes. I’ll bring out some drinks. Why don’t you come help.”
It’s not a question. I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and follow her. The house is the same, and it’s exactly what one would imagine. Unnecessarily big. Also it’s clean, decorated with family heirlooms, yet it’s home. It’s warm. Not a single black item to be found. The darkest shade might be navy. The kitchen is a spot of sunshine with yellow and sky blue. No cook is in sight, so I call her on that bullshit.
“Now I know you didn’t cook these crepes.”
“Why would I when I have a working phone? Caterers also still exist.”
I don’t know why it hurts to laugh, but I pull her into me and hug her. “I don’t feel bad for not calling you. You should have told me.”
“Told you what?” That’s my mother trying to sound innocent.
I hug her tighter. “Kennedy.”
She breaks the embrace only to brush her fingers over my brow. “Didn’t I tell you to be nice?”
“Mom, this isn’t preschool.”
“I know that. I just think you missed some important lessons. Now go find Robyn and Nate. They looked a little randy when they lied about taking a tour of the grounds. I’m going to set us up outside. It’s pretty out.”
With my marching orders I leave her be and relax. The trap was set for her to admonish me with my friends readily on hand. I can breathe now. Takes me ten minutes to find Nate on the second floor. Robyn had to use the restroom. I don’t ask why he didn’t show her the one downstairs. I also ignore the way my friend’s hair and clothes looks ruffled. I’ve done what I’ve been told to do. Now I just have to suffer through the food, the chatter. Everything is fine and gravy (despite the fact I just used a word like gravy to describe my emotional landscape) and no I don’t want to head back to work. Yes, I want to sit out in the sun while everyone but my mother and I has someone to whisper to, to touch thoughtlessly.
Everything is fucking fine.
Five minutes into brunch, I’m ready to find some excuse to leave. I’ve done my duty by showing up. The next minute lasts forever. I need work. I need my desk. I have to yell at Gwen and let her ignore me. I can’t do brunch with couples and my mother.
I scrub my hands down my face and glance at my mother. I’m going to make excuses to go and she’ll look at me with disappointment. I’ll take it like I always do.
Except my mother smiles. Not at me, at someone over my shoulder near the patio doors. Minute six and I know why my mother set this whole thing up. Family. A family brunch.
Kennedy struts in stilettos from the back door out onto the patio. Two weeks of not catching sight of her at the firm and it feels like I don’t know her anymore. She’s chopped her hair. The strands brush along her shoulders now. The red is richer, deeper. She’s dressed for the weather in a strapless dress, the color of sea foam and decorated with dark blue polka dots.
That alone should be a knife to the chest, but she smiles at my mother, not once looking in my direction.
“Holy shit,” is all I hear from Tarek. Nate mutters about the same.
“You made it,” my mother, the goddamn traitor, says as she rises from her seat.
Tarek whispers something to his date and they switch seats so he’s closer to me. Unfortunately this is my mother. She offers
Kennedy her chair and goes to get one for herself. That leaves Kennedy in the seat right across from me. I’ll face her for the rest of the brunch.
Robyn throws a glance toward Nate and he just shakes his head. She ignores that subtle ‘don’t do it.’ “I’m Robyn,” she says to Kennedy. “It’s very nice to meet you...”
“Madison’s friend,” Kennedy fills in without hesitation. “You can call me Kennedy. You’re married to Nate, right?”
“Yes. Was it two months ago?”
Nate shakes his head again like he’s not going to get into the middle of this.
And Tarek, that motherfucker... “It’s good to see you again, Kennedy.”
Nate puts his hand over his face. I breathe then glare at my friend. He smiles back at me. “This is my friend, Keisha. Keisha, Kennedy.”
Keisha’s laugh sounds nervous. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you...I think.”
I push out of the chair. I’m not doing this. I don’t care about my mother’s intentions. I don’t care that Kennedy is ignoring my existence. I’m biting my arm off to get out of this trap.
“Duke Branson Alexander, sit down.”
Both Tarek and Nate let out a low whistle. I plant my ass back into the chair. My voice is barely above whisper, “Did you know she was doing this?” I’m asking Kennedy but she’s still smiling at my mother.
I don’t exist. It shouldn’t hurt so I swallow any other questions I have.
My mother sighs. “I’ve—we’ve both had a rough couple of months after losing your father. Just once I wanted us both to be surrounded by people we love and have supported us.” She gives everyone at the table a bright smile. “Now let’s eat.”
I pass on all food handed to me. Any appetite I could have had is gone. The chatter begins soon after. Most of it between the women. Nate and Tarek are stuffing their faces, silent in their solidarity. I want nothing to do with any of this. I’m counting down the clock to when I can stop being a decent son and leave.
An hour seems reasonable. I can survive an hour sitting across from Kennedy as her scent reaches across the table and punches me in the goddamn nose. I can half-heartedly answer any question my mother throws my way. I can do this for fifty-nine minutes.