Her smile is tight and forced. And just like when we were kids, I feel compelled to make it reach her eyes.
I shake my head at her. “Well, shit. I take my first vacation in nearly ten years and the world stopped turning. You motherfuckers can’t survive without me.”
She throws her head back and chuckles. “Thank the Lord your ego is still intact.”
I nudge her shoulder. “I mean, it. You being happily married was something I’d come to accept as fact.” I nod to my fridge. “It’s the only thing that kept me from coming to you. That you looked happy in those pictures.”
“Really? Well, the only person in that room who was truly happy was the photographer we paid to take our picture. For real.”
We both get lost in our thoughts for a minute. I break the silence with another confession.
“Want me to tell you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You know, everyone thinks I’m married to my career. That I’ve chosen it over having a family.”
“Are they wrong?” she asks.
“Very. I didn’t move on because there was no one I wanted to move on with. I’m not the settling type, so I decided that I’d be alone.”
“Are you serious? You were going to be a bachelor forever?” she squawks.
“Why not? I have a satisfying career. My sister’s kids are like my own and I get a lot out of being their uncle. I serve my community and I date some fantastic women. Just none that gave me the urge that you did.”
I trail my fingers through her hair.
“Urge?” she drawls and leans into my touch.
“Yes… to dig deeper, to ask questions, to welcome discomfort as a sign of growth. To stop believing in someone else’s version of my story and write it myself. You taught me all that. From the first time we met until just a few minutes ago, when you told me you left your husband to live more honestly. You’ve always been so honorable. Done the right thing. Been brave.”
“Really?” She shakes her head dubiously. “I haven’t felt brave in a long time. I certainly wasn’t brave enough to walk away until I was sort of forced to. The day he told me about his affair, I’d been terrified.” She grimaces.
“God, I’m sorry. Did things just get bad all of a sudden?”
“No.” She skims her bottom lip with the edge of her top teeth, biting down when she gets to the very center of it.
“It wasn’t sudden. Or honestly, even all that surprising.”
I trail a hand over her back and press a kiss to her shoulder. I can’t believe she’s here. I sink my teeth in her shoulder and she yelps.
“Why are you biting me?” She pulls away from me and rubs her shoulder to soothe it.
“Just making sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to pinch yourself to figure that out,” she rubs her neck, but a smile tugs at her lips.
“Come here, let me soothe it.” She leans back in and I suck the spot tenderly.
“If you promise to always do that afterward, you can bite me any time.” She sighs and relaxes.
“So, what happened? With you and Paul?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about my marriage?” A skeptical frown mars her face.
“You’ve heard mine. Tell me yours.” I nudge her.
Her body relaxes on top of mine, and she blows out a long breath. “When I had Bianca, I took maternity leave. I loved being home with her, but I was ready to get back to work at the end of the three months. Paul was very unhappy at the prospect. He was raised so differently than me. He’s Catholic. Or at least he pretends to be when it’s convenient. He wanted me to stay home. I didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with being a full-time mother, it just wasn’t what I wanted. I had dreams beyond that. I also really resented the way being married changed my freedom of movement.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
“I mean, when I met Paul, I had just started getting a taste of living the life I wanted. I was done with school, I had a job, was earning good money, had roommates, went out. Had sex, dated, whatever. I was free. Sure, it had been a hard road to get there, but I was free. And then, I fell into a trap.”
“He trapped you?” My body tenses at the idea.
“I trapped myself. I was careless about something I’d spent my whole life afraid of.”
“What getting pregnant?”
“No of being a cliché: young, single, pregnant. But, I don’t regret my daughter. I just wish I hadn’t married her father. It bound me to him in a way that made it very hard to extricate myself. I’m not sure I’d ever want to get married again.”
Surprise forces me to sitting. “Huh?”
“No, I mean, really. Our divorce was traumatic. We had a horrendous custody battle that I’m still paying off.” I can hear how weary she is just talking about it. I hadn’t really thought about marriage, but only because, for me, it’s a given.
“Why did you marry him, then?”
“Because I didn’t want to end up like my mother. Back then, single motherhood was akin to death.”
Her laugh is humorless.
“Being a stay at home mom felt like a small sacrifice to make for peace at home. When she started school and was gone all day, I started putting feelers out about jobs at the publishing houses.”
“Did you find something?”
“Yes, Paul, made such a stink. I turned it down.”
“Even with her in school? What did he expect you to do all day?”
“Things other media tycoons wives do, I guess. Go to lunches, fundraisers, cut ribbons at the openings of new hospital wings. Look pretty. Hair straight. Makeup flawless. That’s what he cared about. Don’t stand out. Be a picture-perfect wife. Suddenly my clothes were too revealing, too risqué. My hair looked unprofessional. I changed all of those things to try to make him happy.”
“I see,” is all I say. But now, I understand the slightly “Stepford Wives” vibe Kal gives off.
“Last year, my old boss called me up and asked me to come back. Said he’d bring me back in at the same level and title and everything. Bianca was almost eight. And I said yes. Paul said he was onboard. I was traveling a lot again.”
I pull away a little and eye her with surprise. “Did you like being on the road?”
“There’s no position in the field of investigative journalism that doesn’t require travel. I can’t exactly do an online search for the questions I’m trying to answer.” She huffs.
“Of course.”
“But while I was gone, he met someone and fell in love, filed for divorce and now he’s married to her.” She says it with admirable equilibrium.
I’m fucking glad that shit is out of the way but fuck him for throwing away such a treasure.
“He’s a spineless shit.”
“He is. He fought me for custody. I won, but it was brutal financially. Then, as soon as his new wife discovered that Bianca wasn’t going to call her Mommy, her weekends with him became few and far in between. I had to beg him to take her while I was here.”
Fuck him again.
“What about your mom?”
She sighs deeply, her absent stare is wistful. “I spent my whole life following her from disaster to disaster. From apartment to apartment. Her endless stream of boyfriends, the parties, even the arrest and foster care. I even forgave her for hiding my father’s identity.”
“I thought he was dead.” I ask about her last sentence.
“Nope. He’s alive and kicking. It’s David Lister.”
If she had touched me with just the tip of her finger right now, I would fall over.
“You’re kidding? Lister is your father?”
“No. He’s just the man who got my mother pregnant. I don’t even think about him, honestly. And I don’t want to talk about him now.” She says firmly, so I let it go because I don’t know what to make of it anyway.
“You and your mom seemed so tight.”
“We w
ere. Like sisters… I didn’t know until after I had Bianca… that mothers aren’t supposed to be like sisters. She never really fought for me. She didn’t give up anything for me.”
“Not like you did for your daughter?” I finish her sentence and it coaxes her frown a little.
She nods sadly. “It’s what every mother should do. Even yours did.”
“Oh, mine… I don’t want to talk about her.” I dismiss her comment.
“She didn’t think I was what you needed. She fought for you. Even when she knew you’d hate her for it. Mine just dragged me behind her as she ran from her mistakes.”
“The grass is always greener, huh?”
“Sometimes, especially when you’ve got no grass at all.” she says quietly. She looks so tired. I hate that she’s had a rough time and that I’ve been sitting here twiddling my thumbs thinking she was happy.
“Anyway, Mom remarried. Lives in Atlantic City and we go visit a couple of times a year. Bianca looks a lot like her.” She smiles dreamily at the mention of her daughter.
“What’s she like, even though I feel like I already know her. All of those Christmas cards.” I nod over to the fridge again.
“And of course, she’s got a marvel for a mother.”
“I’m no marvel, Remi. I’m just determined.”
“Yes. You are. And you’ve never turned your back on anyone you love. If she’s learned that from you, then she’s incredible.”
“I think so. But I just love her and protect her. Who she is… is who she is. I’m so tired.”
“Where do you want to sleep? I have a spare bedroom. Or you can sleep with me.” I try to keep the desperation out of my voice. But I know I failed when her eyes dart away uncomfortably.
“I think the spare bedroom is best. I’m not sure…”
“Listen, there’s no pressure. Not from me. Really. That you’re here is enough. When you’re sure—say the word.”
She nods, but narrows her eyes, her gaze thoughtful and probing.
“Are you sure? I mean, it’s been a long time. I’ve changed—” I stop her with a finger pressed to her lips. She kisses it and her eyes flutter closed.
“See? Time’s has just gone by. But we’re still the same.”
“Yes,” her agreement is little more than a sigh. I pull her to me, wrap my arms around her. Her arms go around my waist and she rests her head on my chest.
There’s no space between us, and I could stay right here forever.
“We still feel each other. Want each other.” I press a kiss to the side of her neck before I run my nose along it.
She sighs, burrows deeper into me.
“When’s the last time you had a conversation like that? When’s the last time you didn’t have a single blip of anxiety?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Me neither. So, I’m sure. And when you are, Kal. Just say the word. But you have to know… that this time, I’m playing for keeps.”
Chapter 28
COMPLICATIONS
KAL
* * *
My stomach drops when I see the name on the screen of my ringing phone. I nearly decline the call, but I know that will only make things worse.
“Morning, Jules.” I grimace at the effort it takes to keep my voice natural, but I’m sweating bullets because I have already fucked-up my assignment.
I got here and forgot, immediately, why I was here in the first place. I actually got in to see Gigi Rivers, and I didn’t ask her a single fucking question except “Where can I find Remington?” Because apparently, my very neglected vagina usurped my brain the minute I thought we might be breathing the same air.
I stand up and head to the small front foyer of the house.
“Any updates?”
A door opens on the left side of the house. Remi must finally be awake. I step out into the already very warm morning. I make sure the door is shut and sit on the top step of the porch. I pray splinters don’t find a home in my bare thighs.
“None yet.”
“You’ve been there for two days.” She says sharply.
“Technically one.” I wince at how lame I sound.
“If you’re already speaking in technicalities, that means you’ve already made a mistake,” she accuses
“I haven’t made a mistake,” I lie through my teeth. Well, it’s not technically a lie. It’s so much more than a mistake.
“Kal, I’m not calling to argue with you.” She snaps.
“Jule—”
“Do you know Regan Landel née Wilde?”
Her question and the mention of Regan’s name completely startle me.
“Yes. Well, kind of…”
“She’s a rich, bored housewife who is also a failed journalist and is a sometimes gossip columnist,” she says without any judgment, like she’s reading from a list. She’s putting Regan into a context she can understand. Underestimating her in a way that I think a lot of people do. I feel like I should defend her, but that would only make things worse.
“Okay, so why are we talking about her, then?”
“Apparently, Regan was overheard telling someone that Remington Wilde is missing.”
“I don’t understand,” I mumble dumbly.
My plan from earlier goes up in a fiery blaze. How the hell did anyone overhear us?
“Neither do I, but you’re going to go and find out if the two are related. And if they are, you’re going to write a story about it.”
Surprise explodes inside of me and panic starts to build.
“Woah. No… That’s not the story I’m here to pursue. Wh — why would they be related?” My brain is moving at a thousand miles an hour as I try to figure how in the world she could have found out.
“Last time he was seen, he was leaving the hospital in the wee hours of the morning the day after Gigi Rivers was shot, but no one knows who he was there to visit. He was supposed to be the keynote speaker of an event the ACLU was holding and he didn’t show up. His family has declined to comment, but I have this bead on Regan. Find out everything you can about him.”
“What about the Rivers’ story?” My voice comes out in a squeak, and I clear my throat. Holy Shit. This is a cluster.
“They’re related. I just know it. My inner bloodhound is on fire.”
She sounds more animated than I’ve ever heard her. My stomach sinks.
“If you can get this story, Kal, the job will be yours. People would die for a peek behind the curtain one of the country’s biggest families has draped themselves in. It’s catnip for our audience.” She is practically crowing.
“Okay. I’ll work on it today.” The contrasting lack of conviction in my voice is startling.
“Kal.” Jules’ voice takes on an uncharacteristic softness that’s as jarring as someone’s shout would be.
“Yes, Jules?” I ask tentatively when she doesn’t speak.
“I want you to do well. Right now though, I feel like I’m doing your job for you. I know you’re probably trying to find your feet and that you’ve got stuff going on at home. So, I’ll cut you some slack. But, just today.” Her voice loses the warmth that tinged it.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I hate that I’m letting her down. She stuck her neck out for me. I know her credibility is on the line.
“I’ve just given you a substantial lead. I want the next one to come from you.” She pauses and waits for me to agree.
“Okay.” I know I sound lame, but right now, I don’t know what else to say that wouldn’t be a lie. I need to come clean.
“Get your head in the game. Slugman’s just as hungry as you are.”
“I know.” I feel like a thousand-pound weight has been strapped to my shoulders. “I’ll call you when I have something to tell you,” I promise and hang up before she can ask me another question.
I’m going to be sick. Why is this happening? This job was my chance. I glance back at the house. But, so was this…
What the fuck am I going to do?
Is there a way to write this story without including Remi? Not only did I promise him not to share anything he told me about himself, I know he would never ever agree to letting me write it. He would be livid if he even thought I’d tricked the story out of him.
I need to shut it down. I just don’t know how. Especially now, when Jules has him so firmly in her sights.
I click my heels and wish I could turn back time.
The front door opens and Remi says, “You done with your call?”
I turn slowly to face him. “Yeah, it was just my edit—”
My eyes nearly fall out of my head.
He’s smiling, leaning in the doorway without a stitch of clothing on. I’ve seen it all before. I almost had it at all last night. But, Remi naked in broad daylight is just like looking at a rare statue. His body is perfect. His muscular chest is covered in a light dusting of the same dark hair that’s on his head. It swirls down his body and narrows to a trail that leads to the happiest of sights—his thick, long, left-leaning dick. It twitches and I take a step toward him. I step on a leaf that’s fallen from one of the potted plants on the porch and the crunch of it reminds me that we’re outside.
I rush back to the porch and try to push him back into the house. “You can’t come outside naked!” He doesn’t move. Instead, his arms wrap around me and pull me in for a hug. “Good morning, Will. Nice to see your face first thing.”
I tilt my head back and smile up at him. “Nice to see yours, too.” I cup his firm bare ass and squeeze it. “Can we go inside now, though?”
“I don’t have a neighbor for two miles.” He tilts his hips so his stiffening dick presses into me.
“Someone could drive up any minute,” I protest, but don’t let go.
“Nah. Nancy starts barking when they’re a mile away.” He pulls me to the wicker loveseat, drops down, and pulls me onto his lap.
“Don’t you feel weird being naked outside?” I squirm.
“No. Why should I?” He spreads his thighs and leans back with me against his chest.
“I think most people do.”
“Most people aren’t worth knowing, much less emulating. I could live like this forever.” His voice is gruff, like he’s trying to convince himself, as well as me. I disentangle myself and stand up to face him.
The Rivals Page 55