30. Ashton
Chapter 30
Ashton
“So what did the doctor say?” Mom demands.
Jordan tells them the same thing she told us, and our parents vow to get second, third, and fourth opinions.
“So,” Dad says to me when we’ve covered everything about Jordan’s condition. “You still owe us an introduction.”
He and Mom look at Kendall pointedly.
Fuck. Why did I let her come with me?
“Relax,” Jordan says. “I met Kendall’s parents. Her dad is a doctor, and her mother does charity work.”
“Oh,” our parents say in unison and look at Kendall a lot more approvingly, which, of course, pisses me off.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Kendall says politely and shakes both of their hands.
What follows next feels a lot like an interrogation, by the end of which I get the feeling that my parents are ready to replace Gwyneth with Kendall.
I, on the other hand, feel unsure about her for the first time since she ghosted me—but not because of said approval, as I would’ve expected. As it turns out, I couldn’t care less what my parents think of her, one way or another. However, now that I know my sister is okay, I can finally process the whole Ash debacle, and the more I think about it, the more I hate it that Kendall didn’t trust me—and kept thinking the worst of me even after we got to know each other.
Kendall’s phone rings.
“Will you please excuse me?” she says. “It’s Emma. She and Marcus just came back from their honeymoon.”
“Of course,” Jordan says. “Go.”
When Kendall leaves, Mom gives me a dirty look. “Marcus—as in, your friend, Marcus Carelli?”
The fact that I didn’t help my parents snag a billionaire son-in-law via Jordan is one of the many grievances I have to deal with.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask Jordan. “Maybe a drink or a snack?”
“Yeah. Can you get me a Jell-O cup? Green flavor.”
I purse my lips. “Are you allowed gelatin if you have this alpha-gal thing? It might come from mammals.”
She pouts. “This is going to take some getting used to. Bring me an animal cracker. It might be the closest I’ll get to eating animals from now on.”
“I’ll go get some.” After I make sure they’re vegan, that is.
I walk briskly and spot Kendall still speaking on the phone nearby.
Should I call Marcus?
No. Maybe later. Right now, I need to get animal crackers and figure out where Kendall and I stand.
Turns out, the brand of animal crackers they sell here is vegan, so I pay for them and head back—which is when Gwyneth steps into my path.
“Can we talk?” she asks, smoothing a hand over her sleek brown hair.
I blow out a breath. “What about?”
“Us,” she says.
Fucking hell. “There is no us. And there won’t be. You know that.”
Her eyes gleam. “Because of Kendall?”
I frown. “How do you know her name?”
“I know a lot more than that.”
Translation from crazy speak: she probably hacked the hospital again, learned the name from Jordan’s visiting record, and then stalked Kendall online.
“My sister is waiting for me,” I say. “Have a nice life.”
“Wait,” Gwyneth says. “Don’t go.”
I wave the crackers. “Jordan is waiting for this.” And more importantly, we have nothing to talk about.
“Your parents will never approve of her,” Gwyneth says.
I shrug. “Not that it’s any of your business, but in fact, they like her just fine. Not that I care.” The opposite, in fact.
“They won’t like her once they learn what she does,” Gwyneth says.
“Why not? Mom loves fashion, and Dad only cares about?—”
“Not that,” she snaps. “Her other business. The one for perverts.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Gwyneth smiles triumphantly. “You don’t know, do you?”
I narrow my eyes. “Know what?”
She takes out her phone and types something in before showing me the screen. “Do these look familiar?”
I look at the URL first. It’s the website porn stars use to milk money from their fans. This specific page belongs to someone named Candy Berlin, and all she’s posted there are feet.
Tons and tons of pictures of feet.
Wait a second.
Those are familiar-looking feet, and not just because of the taupe-colored nail polish, and the two silvery toe rings, and the golden anklet.
I know these feet.
I like them.
I came on them.
These are Kendall’s, but?—
“She sells her dirty socks as well.” Gwyneth wrinkles her nose. “Or if you have serious cash to burn, she can sell you her used Manolo Blahniks.”
Sells used socks? I have noticed her putting worn socks into plastic bags a couple of times. I thought it was some neat freak tendency, or some weird girl thing where she was afraid that I might smell something I shouldn’t, but she’s selling them?
“If you don’t believe me, I can show you how I found this,” Gwyneth says. “It was pretty trivial, actually. All I had to do was?—”
“Now, Gwyneth, listen to me very carefully.” I let my turbulent emotions show in my tone. “If you mention this to anyone again—or so much as google Kendall’s name—I will be talking to my new client, who happens to be Director of the FBI.”
She pales. “You wouldn’t want your client to know that your girlfriend is a?—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll call him right now.” Just to show her I’m not bluffing, I pull up his contact in my phone and turn the screen toward her.
“Look, I just thought it was something you should know,” Gwyneth says.
“And now I do. But if anyone else finds out—even if not through you—I’m making that call, and you’d better pray you didn’t leave a digital footprint when hacking this hospital.”
She turns even paler. “I can’t believe I actually thought you and I could be together again.”
“I can’t believe you thought so either. I told you we were done, and I meant it.” I don’t add that after this conversation, even if an apocalypse wiped out all other women on the planet, I would sooner let humanity die out than be with her.
With a huff, Gwyneth turns on her heel and rushes out of the cafeteria.
I take a seat on the nearby chair, take out my phone, and pay the exorbitant fee required to see Candy Berlin’s feet once again.
Yep.
Still there.
A part of me thought that maybe Gwyneth had somehow faked the page—though I now realize that was a last-ditch hope at best. I mean, where would Gwyneth have found so many pictures of Kendall’s feet?
So it must be true. Here is yet another thing Kendall didn’t trust me with, though I guess in this case, it’s more understandable. She was probably worried that I’d be jealous, and she was right.
Just thinking about some assholes looking at—or sniffing—Kendall’s feet makes me want to smash their noses into their faces. And yes, I know this reaction is over the top. I mean, if she went to a beach or wore sandals, everyone would see her feet… right? Then again, maybe not. If I were there, they wouldn’t dare look at them. Certainly, no one should be sniffing anything—though if someone were to do any sniffing, that someone had better be me.
I leap to my feet.
Kendall and I need to have some words.
Walking fast, I return to my sister, but Kendall isn’t there. Nor are our parents.
“Kendall didn’t come back after that phone call,” Jordan says without my asking.
“I see.” I give her the crackers. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. In fact, they promised to discharge me in a few minutes, so I told Mom and Dad they could head home.”
And they went? Figures. Though in their defense, Jordan looks a lot less swollen, and they know I’m still here.
“Did something happen?” Jordan asks. “You look upset.”
“Long story,” I say tightly. “I need to speak with Kendall.”
“Go find her then,” Jordan says. “Then come back and give me a full report.”
“You’re going to be okay alone?” I ask, my tone softening.
She waves her phone at me. “I’ve got something I need to take care of, anyway.”
“I’ll be right back.” I step away and look around, but I don’t see Kendall anywhere.
I head in the direction she went earlier, and then I spot her—and blink a few times because, weirdly, she’s talking to her brother.
What is he doing here?
Doesn’t he live in New York?
As I get closer, I hear Kendall ask him that exact question in a tense tone.
“Jordan and I work together,” he replies. “When I heard she was in trouble, I got here as soon as I could.”
What the fuck? Is he dating my sister?
“I thought we agreed: she’s off limits,” Kendall says angrily.
My thoughts exactly.
“And why is that?” Cameron demands. “Because her brother is your boyfriend?”
“No. I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just?—”
She stops speaking, probably because she’s noticed Cameron’s eyes widening at my approach. She turns. “Ashton. I?—”
“No,” I say evenly. “Please finish that sentence. We’re just what? Nothing of consequence? Merely fuck buddies? What were you going to say?”
Looking uncomfortable, Cameron says, “I’m going to check on your sister.”
I glare at him. If the fucker hurts her in any way, he’s dead meat.
Before I can voice that sentiment, Cameron hurries away, leaving me and Kendall in a staring contest.
“I know about Candy Berlin,” I say when I’m sure her brother is out of earshot.
She gapes at me. “How?”
“Is that all you care about?” I demand.
“No. I… just didn’t expect you to say that .”
“And I didn’t expect to hear you tell your brother that I mean nothing to you. After we’ve been together all these weeks—and after you learned that I wasn’t Ash. Which you should’ve realized long ago.”
“The Ash thing was clarified only a couple of hours ago,” she says defensively. “I didn’t even get the chance to?—”
“I heard about the Candy Berlin thing two minutes ago, and that is how long it took me to know I still want to be with you. Except I apparently wasn’t with you. It was all my imagination.”
“Ashton… I?—”
“Don’t,” I say coldly. “I’d like you to go. Please. I’ll call you a limo and make sure a ticket home is waiting for you at the airport.”
Turning on my heel, I leave.