“Fuck,” she muttered.
She had really just screwed herself over—and perhaps even Becca—all because she couldn’t control herself when she was drinking, all because she couldn’t make herself stop, all because she just had to have Becca and couldn’t think about what was best for both of them.
Sighing, she shoved the blanket to the floor and stood up, her muscles protesting as she stretched. Her back ached from sleeping on the couch, but her thighs ached from sex, from the ripples of pleasure Becca had brought her in the wee hours of the night in a drunken haze. She remembered most of it—Becca’s taste, her smile, the flush in her cheeks as she came.
She groaned and leaned against the bathroom door. Kimberly took two deep breaths before she flipped the water on in the shower as hot as she dared to make it then she stepped under the spray while the water was still cold and heating up. The droplets sluiced over her skin. She had to find a solution. She had to figure out how to make this all okay, how to fix anything she had broken, because she knew she had just broken it.
The water turned cold again before she got out. When she stepped into the steamed bathroom, another wave of guilt crushed her. Knowing that was going to be her norm for the next while, she ignored it and wrapped herself in a large towel sheet. She headed for her room, dressed in loose shorts and a tank and crawled into her bed. She needed to focus on something other than Becca for a few hours. They could talk when Becca woke up and was sober enough to have a conversation.
With her laptop resting on her legs, Kimberly stared at the screen and the half-dozen starts to the cookbook she had already attempted to make. Biting her lip, she took a risk and opened a new file. Maybe there was something to what Becca had been saying all along. Time with her son… That was what not only he wanted, but that was what most people wanted.
She typed, the words flying from her fingers as she outlined how she would work up her cookbook. She would focus it around cooking with her kid, cooking easy at-home recipes anyone could make, recipes that didn’t take a long time but that small hands would have no issue helping out with.
Before she knew it, hours had passed. Her very rough outline was near done, and she felt as though her plan was able to come to fruition. Dying for more water, she set her laptop aside and decided a break would be useful. She headed for the kitchen and grabbed herself a water bottle. As she drank, she stared down the hallway toward Becca’s room. Checking the time, she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to repair all the damage she’d done the night before—or rather, that morning.
Knocking on Becca’s door, she waited patiently. When there was no answer, she knocked again. After the third time, Kimberly gently opened the door and peeked inside. The room was mostly clean, everything put away. The blankets were ruffled, but as she opened the door wider, Kimberly could clearly see the bed was empty. No Becca. No Drew.
That empty feeling she’d had when she’d first woken up pounded into the forefront of her mind. She was alone. She was desperately alone in a giant house with no one to fill it, no one to talk to, no one to share it with. Shutting the door a little harder than she’d planned, Kimberly stalked to the kitchen and pulled out the rest of the cake Becca had made a few days before. She didn’t even bother to slice it as she took it and a fork, along with two more water bottles, to her bedroom so she could gorge herself in peace.
* * * *
By the time Drew woke up, Becca had already been to work on her plan. She wasn’t going to waste any more time. If anything, working for Kim Burns the television personality of a chef had shown her that she was done with nannying. She wanted to teach. That was what she enjoyed the most about being with Michael, seeing him learn something new every day. While she liked her job, it wasn’t what she wanted to do any longer than necessary…especially now.
The applications for her student teaching had been sitting on her computer just waiting. She’d spent the last few hours researching which schools to apply for, which would best suit what she wanted to learn and how and which were the most supportive. She made a checklist, adding to it as she went about her research.
Drew slipped into the chair next to her at the table and pressed their forehead to the cool metal. They groaned. Becca slid her gaze over to them and patted their head gently. She shut her laptop and rubbed her eyes, still not feeling the greatest, but definitely more with it than she had been hours before.
“How did we get here?” Drew asked.
Chuckling, Becca answered, “We took an Uber at about seven this morning.”
Drew grunted. “Why in God’s glorious and all-loving name did we do that?”
Becca rubbed her lips together, trying to figure out how to answer.
“Did we drink with the Kim Burns?”
“Yes.”
“Good. At least I remember that right.” Sitting up a bit, Drew chugged some water and some pain killers before laying their head down. Becca bet the cool of the table felt good against their heated skin. “Do I remember right that I saw the Kim Burns naked?”
Becca blanched. Heat raced to her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing. She opened her computer again in an attempt to hide, hoping Drew wouldn’t notice. But her luck was out.
“Oh my God! Is that why we left at seven in the goddamned morning?”
“Yes…” Becca hissed. Tears stung at her eyes as she tried to tamp the feeling of hurt down. She didn’t really want to feel right now—or at all—about this particular situation. She wanted to let it go and move on with her life, to push through in her job until she could start her student teaching and fly under the radar. That was her MO, after all, out of the spotlight.
“Becca, sugar.” The sympathy in Drew’s tone of voice set her on edge. She rolled her eyes and went back to her list, even though she struggled to focus on it. “Was the sex at least good?”
“What I remember of it was amazing,” Becca murmured.
“Oh, honey!”
Becca held her hand up. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”
The pout on Drew’s lips was almost her undoing. She loved them deeply, but in times like this, she wanted to smack them upside the head then run away. Sometimes she hated that they knew her so well. Cringing, Becca made to get up, but Drew’s hand on her wrist stopped her.
“Talk to me, sugar. Spill it all.”
“Do you think this is why she’s been through so many nannies?”
Drew’s jaw dropped then slowly, hesitantly, they shook their head in the negative. “No, I don’t. But that doesn’t really tell you much. I just met her last night, while drunk, and high.”
“High?” Becca’s eyes widened, and she jerked.
Grinning from ear to ear, Drew tottered their head back and forth. They took their finger and thumb and put them close together. “I may have had a little.”
“You didn’t.” Becca’s stomach dropped again for the second time that day. “You know— I just… I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
Slamming her laptop lid down, Becca stood up and went to the kitchen. She felt displaced for the first time in her life with nowhere to go. Becca knew Drew sometimes imbibed, but they had never done it in her presence before, and she certainly didn’t approve. Beginning dishes, she cleaned the kitchen while she cleared her mind. Perhaps it really was time for her to grow up and truly live on her own. She’d been on the right track that morning, but she’d need more time to finalize her plans.
“Drew?” she called from the kitchen.
They came in and grabbed some leftovers from the fridge. “What’s up, sugar?”
“I’m going to stay the night, but after that? I’m not so sure I’m going to be spending as much time with you if you continue to do drugs. You know how I feel about it.”
“Come on, honey. It was just a little E. One small pill.”
“One small pill too many. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take any more while I’m here.”
Drew dropped the food in the microwave
and leaned against the counter. “What’s gotten into you? You never would have minded before.”
“Before what?”
“I don’t know,” they said. “Before now.”
Pursing her lips again, Becca put her hands on her hips. “They why haven’t you done it in front of me before? Hmm?”
Caught in the trap, Drew rolled their shoulders and turned to the microwave, pulling their food before the beep indicated it was done. The tension that filled the small kitchen was almost too much to bear, but it was the first time in years that Becca felt she was truly making the right decision.
“I need to think about my future. My future as a teacher. I don’t want to be caught with you with drugs, and I don’t really want to be associated with people who do drugs. I have more to life than that to think about.”
After a few seconds, Drew nodded slowly. “Okay. I think I understand. I won’t do them anymore.”
Becca narrowed her eyes, not sure she believed Drew but willing to at least take the declaration as enough for the rest of the weekend until she was able to go back to Kimberly’s and figure out her plans in detail. Kimberly had said Michael would be starting kindergarten in the fall, so that meant she only needed a nanny for the next three months. They could easily push through the mess they had made of things until then, so long as Kimberly didn’t fire her in the meantime.
Nodding to herself, she grabbed some food and sat down at the table with her computer in front of her. With her mind made up, Becca was ready to focus on her future and not her past. She wanted to be a teacher, and it was time to make her dreams come true.
* * * *
Kimberly headed to Bradley’s a few hours early, no longer able to stand being in her house alone. Becca hadn’t come back. She’d opened her phone more times than she cared to admit or count, ready to call her and beg her to come back so they could talk, but she’d chickened out every time.
Bradley would be someone to talk to, and his door was always open. Pulling into the parking garage of his high-rise condominium, she got out and locked her car door. Even at their worst, they could talk to each other. She looked a mess. It had taken her the rest of Saturday to feel sober and most of Sunday to feel anywhere near decent. Her stomach was still queasy, and she had to remind herself over and over again that she was not twenty-eight like Becca. She was fast approaching forty-one—next month—and she did not rebound like she had when she was younger.
Bradley opened the door with a surprised look on his face, but he let her inside. When she sat on the couch instead of grabbing Michael’s things and heading out, he seemed curious but went with it. She rested her head.
“He napping?”
“Yes. Care to share what’s going on?”
She sent him a sideways look.
“You didn’t!” His eyes narrowed. When she didn’t respond, they grew wide. “Oh, you did!” Sitting next to her on the couch, he gripped her hand and squeezed. “That good, huh?”
“Amazing,” Kimberly sighed. “But now what? She’s our nanny! Michael adores her. For the first time ever, he adores a nanny. I can’t take that away from him.”
“Not to mention you’ll be SOL for finding a replacement.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, giving him a sideways glare. “I fucked this up, B. I really did.”
He smiled and kissed her knuckles before setting her hand down. “Stay for dinner. You can cook,” he added before she could decline. “Let’s talk about it.”
“You don’t think it’s weird to talk to my ex-husband about sleeping with the hired help?”
Bradley burst out laughing. “Heavens, no. I wouldn’t have given her such a hard time when I met her if I didn’t think you’d be attracted to her. She’s gorgeous and just your type.”
“My type?”
He hummed. “Tall, smart—really smart, like me.”
Kimberly snorted.
“She’s in love with Michael, which, let’s face it, is step one into getting into your heart nowadays. I’m lucky I didn’t have that problem to work around.”
“Yeah, you are,” Kimberly readily agreed.
“Ouch!” He feigned injury by pressing a hand over his heart. “Nonetheless, let’s try to figure something out, all right? Have you talked to her yet?”
“No. She disappeared before I even woke up and hasn’t been back since.”
“Have you called her?”
Kimberly flushed and looked down at his thousand-dollar carpet. “No.”
Bradley rolled his eyes. “Talking to her might help in figuring out where to go from here—and if you’ll be looking for new help or not.”
Kimberly dragged her hands through her fluffy hair, still not sure what she would even say to Becca when they did finally talk. “Hello, I know I fucked up, but I really liked fucking you. Let’s do it again?” just didn’t sound like it would go over all that well.
When she glanced at Bradley, he was giving her a look of curiosity. “What?”
“You like her.”
“Of course, I like her. She loves Michael, she’s amazing with Michael and—”
“And nothing.” He poked a finger to her chest. “You, Kimberly Thompson, mother of Michael, yes, but you as Kimberly? You like her.”
Ignoring him, Kimberly went into the kitchen to figure out what Bradley even had for her to cook, since she’d been voluntold. He tried to pull her into the conversation, but she continued to ignore him, something she had perfected over their ten years of marriage. When she popped out of the fridge, he was standing right there.
“What?” she said accusingly.
“Just know I’m here to talk when you want to.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
It still felt a bit odd, talking to her ex about her one-night stand, but she did feel much better confessing it to someone. Before she began prepping their meal, Michael woke up and raced out of the room when he heard her voice. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her belly.
She gave him a strong hug and closed her eyes as she breathed in his scent. No matter what she did or what she and Becca did, Michael had to come first and be first in their minds. They couldn’t hurt him or confuse him in any way. And she wasn’t ready to start that conversation with a four-year-old. Bradley hadn’t even done that with all his dates and boyfriends since they had divorced—or before. No, Michael deserved her best, and she was determined to give it to him.
Chapter Eleven
Becca came home late Sunday night, knowing she wouldn’t have to work until morning but also knowing she needed the extra time away from Kimberly to sort out her thoughts and feelings. When she arrived at the house, she had to convince herself to go inside. Most of the house was dark, save for one light she knew was Kimberly’s bedroom, and the kitchen, which wasn’t a surprise to her.
Forcing her legs to move, Becca walked inside with her backpack over one shoulder. She put her key in the lock and twisted. Everything moved in slow motion, daring her to run away. She wanted to on one hand, but on the other, she wanted to march straight into Kimberly’s bedroom and pick up where they’d left off. She might regret sleeping with her boss, but after two days of deep soul-searching and listening to her emotions, she did not feel negative about what she’d done with Kimberly.
When she entered, she was pushed back with a flood of scent. Her heart raced as she shut the door behind her and moved toward the kitchen, which she’d have to walk through in order to get to her bedroom. Kimberly was knocking pans around, shuffling one against the gas stove top, undoubtedly mixing something in it so it didn’t burn and was evenly cooked.
She tried to skirt around the edge of the room unseen but was stopped in her tracks at the sound of Kimberly’s confident voice, although it still had a hint of huskiness to it.
“Glad you finally came back,” she said.
Biting her lip, Becca turned on her heel and faced her boss. Kimberly’s cheeks were
red from the heat of cooking, a thin sheen of sweat riddled her forehead like she’d been hard at work for some time, and if the dishes upon dishes of food littering the counter were anything to say about that, Becca was right. Kimberly had been cooking up a storm.
“I remembered you liked Chinese, so I started there.”
“You… I’m sorry, what?” That had been the last thing Becca had thought she would say, and confusion rained down on her like a monsoon.
Rolling her eyes, Kimberly walked around the counter and toward Becca. Becca stayed firmly where she was, scared to take a step forward. Her heart raced even more than it had before, and she wasn’t sure what was up Kimberly’s chef’s sleeves.
“I started with Chinese. I’ve been wanting to write a cookbook for years. Everyone keeps telling me to, but no matter how many times I started it, I never got more than a few recipes in. You said something to me, and it put everything in perspective.”
“I did?” Becca’s forehead furrowed, and she dared herself to step forward.
“You did.” Wrinkles appeared at the corner of Kimberly’s eyes as she stayed at least two feet away from Becca so they couldn’t touch each other. The chasm between them was easily noticeable, but Becca was curious nonetheless about what Kimberly had said. “You said Michael wanted to spend time with me in the kitchen, a place I love to be, but a family place.”
“Right. I did,” Becca started, still not quite sure where the conversation was going.
Kimberly spun around when she heard something sizzle on the stove. She raced in that direction, forcing Becca to follow her, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She really just wanted to disappear into her room until morning then put on a brave and calm and serene face for Michael when he woke up and do her job.
After shifting a pan off the stove top onto a cold burner, Kimberly turned around. “Anyway, it got me thinking. People don’t want just another cookbook with a bunch of fancy recipes in it that they don’t actually have ingredients for or that they’ll cook once and never again because it’s so complicated. They want a cookbook they can use, that their kids can use, that they can use together.”
Love Burns Page 12