Against her better judgment, she clicked the green phone icon, answering tersely, “Mother.”
“James,” her mother replied with an equal amount of venom in her tone. Caroline Manning was like a jellyfish, more beauty than brains, but if you crossed her, she stung. There was nothing maternal about her. “You weren’t in mass.”
“Nothing gets by you, Mother.”
“Are you coming to brunch?”
“No.” There was a long pause on the other end, followed by a deep sigh. Jamie hadn’t participated in family holidays since she graduated, so why now was her absence a big fucking deal? Inhaling and exhaling, Jamie chanted her affirmations to help calm the fire boiling in her blood.
Be thankful.
Be mindful.
Be kind.
“If Christopher can make it on time from Boston, then you can come in from downtown.”
Jamie sat up in bed, “Chris is home?” she asked. Her brother was a junior at MIT, and lived on the East Coast full-time since his freshman year. He rarely came home but when he did, he called.
“It was a surprise, one you would have known about had you come to mass,” her mother snipped.
Jamie didn’t bother hiding her annoyance. “When’s the last time I went to mass?”
“Your father emailed you.”
Jamie redirected emails from her parents to her spam folder after her dad wished her a happy twenty-first birthday via his Gmail account. “Did he forget my phone number?”
“I’m calling now, and I expect you, well the television version of you, to be here in an hour.”
Rubbing her tattooed finger across her lips, Jamie inhaled, then exhaled, before starting over with the chant. She wanted to tell her mother to go fuck herself, but she refrained. It was Easter and she did miss her little brother.
“Of course, Mother. I’ll be there in—” The line went dead before she could finish. “I love you too,” she muttered, dragging herself out of bed.
Madison Park was a small beach town located to the east of Lake Washington, Seattle’s summer getaway. The beach was Jamie’s happy place, but going back there was always bittersweet.
Sweet because, as a teenager, she’d spend hours wandering up and down the grassy shoreline. It was where she went to lose herself. The gentle whooshing the lake made as it crashed against the shore comforted her more than her parents ever did.
Bitter because, although Jamie was born into a world of wealth and privilege, her life in Madison Park was anything but happy and the place where she laid her head was never home. A home was a sanctuary filled with love and acceptance; a shelter from the storm of life.
Jamie never had a home there, just a fancy cage. Appearances were everything to Archer and Caroline Manning, and Jamie was never good at fitting in. She was the disappointment, the daughter who wasn’t supposed to be. The girl who never did as she was told.
Jamie straightened her lilac dress, and slipped her mask of indifference into place. Holding her head up high, she unlocked the front door of the massive five acre estate, and made her way inside. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she didn’t need her parents’ validation. Another mantra. Maybe if she said it enough times, it would be true.
Voices billowed out from the dining room. It was the same, year after year, early morning mass, followed by Easter brunch. She’d been able to avoid coming home for every major holiday in the last eighteen months, using her job as an excuse. “The news never sleeps,” she’d say. It wasn’t a total lie. It didn’t, but she was absent by choice.
Jamie wouldn’t even have been there now if it weren’t for Chris. She missed her little brother, and despite her parents’ blatant favoritism and the physical distance between them, they were close. He didn’t ask for the attention and she didn’t begrudge him for it. Chris never treated her like second best. He defended her, stood up for her, and since their grandparents died, he was the only family she acknowledged.
As Jamie made her way through the house and into the formal dining room she sighed. The motive for her father’s email sat to his left in a blue-flannel, button-down and dark khakis. Her presence was demanded, not because of her brother’s surprise visit, but because she was being set up. Her father sat at the head of the table, her mother across from him on the other end. Chris sat to the right hand of their father, and his “roommate” Parker, next to him. The mystery man sat to her father’s left and she assumed the empty spot beside him was intended for her.
This wasn’t the first time her father had played matchmaker with one of his colleagues, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. She was expected to be beautiful, charming, and obedient. Her father drilled it into her head. “Everyone has a role to play in the Manning empire; your brother will take over the family business, your mother is the perfect wife, and you James, are the incentive. One day, when I find you a suitable partner, you’ll marry and help grow our legacy.”
All eyes shifted to Jamie. The men stood as she made her way to her seat, catching her brother’s gaze as she went. Pinning him with a, you could have warned me, asshole, glare. Chris, at least, had the decency to look contrite.
She took her seat, not bothering to acknowledge the sperm and ovaries who created her. “James, dear,” her mother eyed her, no doubt dissecting her choice in wardrobe. Nothing Jamie wore was good enough for Caroline Manning.
“Mother,” she responded coolly.
“We missed you at mass this morning.”
Jamie plastered on a fake smile, internally debating on whether she should play along with the happy family façade. Before she could make up her mind, her father cleared his throat.
“James, I’d like you to meet Jared Foster,” he introduced, a warning in his tone.
Archer Manning was an intimidating son of a bitch. He was smart, got in on the internet craze from the beginning and stayed relevant with the ever-changing landscape of the tech industry. If he were anyone else, Jamie would have been impressed by his ability to sustain longevity in a career where there was always some young hot-shot with a million-dollar idea looking to knock him off the throne, but she knew better. She knew what a heartless bastard her father truly was.
Jamie bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. She didn’t want to be there. She didn’t give a fuck about Jared, and suddenly she wished she would have kept her ass in Ryder’s bed.
Once she trusted herself to speak she extended her hand, offering the man a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Jared. I’m Jamie. Nice to meet you.”
“Jamie,” he said. His voice was deeper than she expected. His brown eyes shone with curiosity behind his tortoise-shell rimmed glasses, and his shaggy brown hair made him look as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He was handsome, for a tech nerd. “Your dad has told me quite a lot about you.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she quipped.
Jared shot her a lopsided grin. Old Jamie would have totally fucked this guy without giving it a second thought, but new Jamie missed her sensitive rocker. “All good things. He seems quite proud of you.”
At that she snorted. Archer Manning had never expressed an interest in anything Jamie did. He only ever called her when he needed her help to close deals. She wondered why she even bothered playing along anymore.
“It seems you have me at a disadvantage. You know about me, but I know nothing about you.”
“Well,” he began, his gaze dropping from hers, down to her lips then to the swell of her breasts, before quickly returning to her face. “I was at Harvard when my roommate and I created a navigation app that combined satellite GPS with social media. When I graduated, I bought him out and moved the company west. GoTech was born and the rest is history.”
Jamie stared, awestruck. “Oh my gosh,” she squealed digging in her purse for her phone. She swiped over a page before clicking on the light blue icon. “This one?” Jared grinned and nodded. “I don’t even use the navigation in my car anymore.”
Jamie was
impressed. Most of the guys her father brought around did things in programming that she knew nothing about. At least this one she could relate to. “I’d love to interview you for the station,” she said.
“James, it’s Easter,” her mother interrupted, “Please leave the work talk for Monday.”
“Here,” Jared took her phone, “I’ll save my number in your contacts and you can call me Monday to set it up.”
Jamie nodded, biting her cheek yet again. She was going to tear a hole in there before brunch was done.
The food was served and the conversation flowed with the guys engaging in a spirited debate about lithium batteries. Jamie couldn’t help the smile twitching at her lips. She wondered how Ryder was spending his Easter. Sneaking a peek at her phone she tapped out a text.
Jamie: I need to be fucked into oblivion
Biting back another smile, she slipped her phone under her thigh, and nearly jumped out of her seat, when his reply came through.
Ryder: I told u to stay in my bed.
Jamie: eyeroll
Ryder: I’m at my mom’s, she is just about to start on dinner. Swing by, I’ll feed you then fuck you.
“Can you put your phone down for five minutes, James?” Caroline bit.
“Sorry, work,” she lied. “It was nice to meet you Jared. I’ll be in touch about that interview. Chris, Parker, have a safe flight back to Boston.” And without another word, Jamie sprinted out of the dining room.
“Wait, Jam,” Chris chased behind her, “where are you going?”
“Work, I told you.”
Her brother narrowed his eyes. “I saw you in there grinning like an idiot, spill.”
Jamie forgot how inconvenient it was having Christopher around. He could read her like a book. “It’s just…I mean,” she stuttered.
“What’s his name?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He assessed her for a moment then changed tactics. “Are you happy?”
“Are you?” Jamie countered.
“This isn’t about me,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.
“When are you going to tell them?” she asked.
“We were going to do it this weekend, but Jared…”
Jamie nodded her understanding. “Is Parker okay?”
“He isn’t happy, but he loves me and he gets it.”
The Mannings’ were slaves to appearances, and even though Chris was the favorite, Archer Manning would sooner die before he’d accept that the heir to his throne was gay.
“It looks like the Easter Bunny took a shit in here,” Ryder said entering the kitchen at his mom’s house. Pastel garland and plastic eggs were placed strategically throughout the house, and a collection of rabbit and duck figurines stared back at him from the windowsill above the sink.
Easter was a big deal in the Ryder household—scratch that, it was a huge fucking deal. Annette Ryder celebrated Easter the way most people celebrated Christmas, not because she was particularly religious, but because of what it meant for her: an Independence Day of sorts.
“Jesus, Napoleon, watch your mouth,” she chastised, whisking brown sugar and pineapple juice into a concoction that turned ordinary ham into crack. It was his one vice—aside from Kitty Cat’s pussy.
“Sorry Ma,” Ry snorted. It took everything he had not to laugh out loud at the hypocrisy. She could take the Lord’s name in vain, but he couldn’t say ‘shit’. “Where do you want them?” he asked, holding up the bag of potatoes she sent him to the store to buy.
“Get to washing,” she replied, tipping her chin toward the sink.
Ryder smiled tightly at her back. Annette forced him to help her cook every year and every year he’d end up fucking up. Yet, every year he was back in the kitchen because as his mother would say, “Eventually we’ll find something even you can’t burn.”
The creepy decorations and unlimited supply of chocolate and peanut butter eggs were one thing, but cooking was a tradition Ryder could live without.
“Nice ears,” he teased, flicking one of the grey and pink bunny ears sitting atop his mom’s head.
“I got you a pair too.”
Ryder shook his head from left to right. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”
“Why?” Annette frowned. “I promise I won’t tell any of your friends that their fearless leader wore bunny ears.”
Ryder watched mesmerized as his mother poured the glaze over the ham. “There won’t be anything to tell,” he swallowed back the saliva pooling in his mouth, ”I’m not wearing them, plus Kitty Cat’s coming.”
“Who?”
“My girlfriend. How long is that going to take?” he asked, following behind her as she slid the ham into the oven and closed the door.
“A couple hours and I thought Jamie was your girlfriend?”
“I’m still with Jamie, Ma, it’s just a nickname.”
With hands placed firmly on her hips, his mother continued to pry. “Well, what’s the deal with you and Kitty Cat?” Everyone had an opinion on Ryder’s love life. His friends seemed to think he moved too fast, and his mother thought he moved too slow.
“Jamie. Just, Jamie, okay?” Ryder set the potatoes on the counter and washed his hands. Then he dumped a few in the sink and went in search of the peeler. He could feel her eyes on his back as she waited for him to speak.
“Are you deliberately avoiding the question?”
“Maybe.” Ryder was definitely avoiding the question. How could he explain his relationship with Kitty Cat when he didn’t understand it himself? He peeled a potato—mangled—whatever. ”I…I think I’m falling in love with her.”
“I know, I saw it in your eyes the day you brought her to the diner.”
“It isn’t easy. She won’t let me in.” For as much as he learned about Jamie in the last month, there was still so much that was a mystery. He’d never been to her apartment, he only met one of her friends, and he didn’t know anything about her family. Ryder was trying not to push, but his growing feelings made it difficult. He was greedy, he wanted all of her, every complicated inch.
“Real life isn’t easy. It’s messy and unpredictable. Not to mention you’re my son and too much like me for your own good,” Annette said, looking past the decorative ducks and out the window. It was a breezy spring day.
“Why do you say that?” Ryder asked. Annette was far from a saint, but if there was anyone in the world he would want to emulate, it was her.
“Because son,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his in the way she did when she was about to say something important. “We’re drawn to wounded animals and in our quest to mend them we tend to break ourselves.”
Maybe she was a saint.
Ryder pressed a kiss onto his mother’s forehead, “How’d you get so smart, Ma?”
“I’ve been around the block once or twice,” she shrugged, grinning up at her son.
That much was true. Annette was the expert on loving broken things—things that threatened to break her—but somehow, she survived. Somehow, she managed carve out a quiet life for herself and for her son. So much had changed since they left California sixteen years ago. He was no longer the kid running from the shadow his father cast, and she was no longer the meek housewife dependent on an alcoholic asshole.
The doorbell rang and Ryder made his way to the front of the house, pausing at the door. He had fucking butterflies. His hands were drenched in sweat and potato water and his grip on the knob slipped the first time he tried to open it. He was being a pussy and he didn’t know why.
It’s just Jamie.
Expelling a long breath, Ryder swung the door open and stared, slack jawed, at the woman in front of him. Kitty Cat was holding a bouquet of pink tulips, and she was wearing a dress. He’d seen work Jamie and party girl Jamie. He even had the pleasure of meeting PMS Jamie last week, but Jamie in a dress; that was a first.
“You look like a girl.” He grinned. Her legs and shoulders were exposed, and the light purple dress seemed
to float on thin air.
“Don’t I always look like a girl?” Jamie asked, stepping over the threshold. She looked up at him through her lashes; her face was painted, and her hair curled. She appeared soft and demure but her eyes gave her away. Jamie could dress up in all the fancy clothes in the world but his ferocious Kitty Cat was never far from the surface.
“You always look like my girl,” Ryder clarified, taking the tulips from her and laying them on the entryway table, “but this isn’t you. It’s nice, but it’s not you.” He pulled her inside and shut the door, pushing her back against it. His fingers skated up her legs until he reached her ass.
Jamie laced her fingers through his hair, bringing his head into the crook of her neck, “Your mom is going to walk in here and catch you with your hand up this nice dress.”
“She’s finishing up dinner,” he said squeezing her round bottom. “We’ve got at least an hour before she comes looking for us. I could show you my bedroom.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Why not?” he pouted. Her skin clung to his clammy palms, and it felt like he was grasping at the promised land. His tongue found flesh and he sucked on the skin at the base of her throat. They were apart for less than twenty-four hours but it seemed like an eternity. “I missed you.”
“I can’t believe I’m letting you feel me up in your mother’s house,” she moaned, dropping her head on his shoulder.
“What do you mean, ‘let’?” he asked, hooking her leg around his waist. “You kick ass and take names out there in the world, but when you’re with me, I’m in charge.” Jamie was his. She could try and deny it, she could fight it, but it was as true then as it was the first night she came apart in his arms.
“You think so?” she challenged.
“I know so. Don’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?” She writhed and wiggled and squirmed as he pressed his body into her. The vibrations of their erratic heartbeats flowed between them like a current. She talked a good game but her physical reaction to his touch gave away her true feelings.
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