16. Knox
Chapter sixteen
Knox
Rule #4: Dogs are amazing. Keep the dog.
I tried to stay at work. I tried to focus on patient files and updating our EHR, but by the time 6:00 rolled around, I found myself staring angrily at my reflection in the computer monitor instead. So, I left work and went back home, but it was only to find two absurd animals and no Gemma. I poured myself a splash of bourbon and leaned my forehead against the wall of windows that overlooked the small city, trying to gather my thoughts. I usually prided myself on my methodical, straightforward way of thinking, but when it came to Gemma, apparently, I was no better than a bewildered lamb in a dating agency office. Nothing made sense to me in the way it should have.
I rolled the glass tumbler against my cheek, staring at the muted lights that gathered together in a denser cluster toward the middle of the city like a miniature Milky Way. My legs were stiff from a difficult delivery a few hours earlier, and I felt my patience dissolving faster than a sugar cube in boiling water. She's on a date with Spencer. I shouldn't care. It shouldn't matter. If Gemma doesn't think it makes things complicated, then why should I? If she dates Spencer, then he'll understand when I make her my fake fiancée. It's an ideal situation. So, why the hell am I panicking right now?
I sighed, swallowing a bitter mouthful of smokey bourbon just as the elevator hummed open. I turned in surprise, immediately assuming that Gemma had changed her mind and had come home instead of going on her date. I moved away from the windows, holding back a sharp question that I knew would only cut her.
But it wasn't Gemma's heels that clicked out of the elevator and into our apartment. It was my mother's. She wore glossy black pumps that matched her formfitting peacoat and short-brim, felt hat. Only her bright turquoise gloves cut through her funeral home director ensemble, and she wore a pinched frown that matched her gloomy fashion choices. Moving her handbag from her fingers to the crook of her elbow, she eyed me imperiously as she clacked across the hardwood floors without so much as a look around the apartment she owned. Her eagle eyes fastened on me with purpose. "I'm surprised to find you home."
I panned a look across the apartment, holding up my drink in question. "Why would you be here if you thought I'd be gone?"
"My tenant, of course," Silvia replied cooly.
My curiosity rolled into a torrent of fury. "What do you want with Gemma?"
Silvia's gaze sharpened with a lethal dose of smug hope. "Why would that concern you, Knox, love?" I didn't answer. I just downed the last of my bourbon and walked past her to set the glass in the clean sink. Gemma had been here before she left for her date. I knew because I'd been in a rush and left my coffee mug in the sink, but it was washed and put away now. I rinsed out my tumbler as my mother's heels clicked across the living room to join me in the shadowed kitchen. "I was surprised you haven't contacted me yet, either of you. I assume you read through your lease agreements thoroughly?"
I leaned on the edge of the sink, stretching my shoulders until my neck cracked. "We read it."
Sylvia scoffed, sliding her gloves off her skeletal hands with dainty ease. "Knox, look at me. You're really going to stand there and pretend that you don't have feelings about this? I've been more than patient. I waited for a phone call, a letter from a lawyer, something to acknowledge that you understand me."
"I understand you," I replied with venomous quiet. I turned to give her the full weight of my scowl. "I understand that you want to force our hands into doing something neither of us wanted. What did you hope to gain, exactly? A daughter-in-law? She'll never want you in my life after this, if so."
Sylvia laughed, stilted and hollow. " That girl? A Rook? Knox," she chided, smiling condescendingly. "Come, now. You know very well that I simply wished to send a message. This is important to our family. Your father and I have built the Rook name to be something to be proud of." She gestured to the apartment vaguely. "Just look at what we have. What you will inherit. You are well into your thirties and not a single thought about—"
"I'm sorry, wait," I said, holding up a hand and cutting her off. "You're telling me this insane marriage clause was a… a chess move? To show me that you still have power over me?"
"Well," she scoffed softly, rolling her glacial eyes to the ceiling. "That's a bit dramatic."
"Don't be dramatic," my mother's voice said in my memories. "Your coach is simply helping you. Why must you make everything a… a production? You will not repeat this to anyone else, do you hear me?"
I shook my head, dispelling the memory under the thin layer of alcohol that kept my pulse steady. "I'd say making a marriage clause in a lease agreement is the more dramatic move here, but it's probably pointless. So, you're saying you don't want me to marry Gemma?"
"Of course not ," Silvia replied, recoiling visibly at the idea. "I'm shocked you didn't simply ask me for help earlier, Knox, dear. That's all I want from you." She took a step toward me, her features softening into a mockery of maternal love. "I simply want you to take our counsel, son. You left us so abruptly. No phone calls. No involvement. We just want you back."
"I see," I said evenly. My voice remained steady, but my insides roiled. This was just another one of my parents' games—another ruse to get me back under their control. I'd slipped away from them in med school, and they'd been scrambling to have some influence over my decisions ever since. They acted like they were the Duke and Duchess of Lane County, like we had some kind of blue-blood legacy that needed to be handed down to unfortunate progeny they could mold to their liking. My sister and I hadn't turned out the way they liked, so they were preparing for a new generation of victims.
Fuck that.
Pumpkin bleated behind Sylvia, and she turned with a surprised yelp. The sound woke Mini from her slumber in her kennel, and she groaned, uncoiling like a mythological beast in her cage. Sylvia put a hand to her chest, heaving out a gust of disbelief. "Are those… animals?"
I let loose a humorless chuckle. "You should have focused more on animal provisions than marriage clauses. We're thinking of getting a Highland cow next. Gemma is obsessed with them."
Silvia rounded a look of outrage on me. "' We? '" she repeated.
I nodded once, arms still folded. "It's too bad you don't want Gemma for a daughter-in-law," I lied boldly. "Because you're getting her." I didn't think too hard about the lie because, in the moment, it was the only thing I could say that made any sense to me. The audacity that this woman—purportedly my mother—would actually scoff at Gemma… sunny, beautiful, intelligent Gemma who excelled at everything she touched and brightened every dark corner of the Earth with her light… how fucking dare she?
Sylvia gaped. Her mouth opened and closed twice, and then she drew back like I'd slapped her. "You can't be serious."
"You left us few choices," I shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Knox," she shrieked. The brim of her hat shook with her indignation, and her knuckles turned white around her turquoise gloves. "I purposefully chose… I knew you would never… you can't possibly like that child?"
Mini perked to attention at Sylvia's tone, and crouching low, the enormous Doberman exited her crate with a soft snarl. I stood up straight, dropping my arms. "Mini," I warned gently.
Sylvia backed away, tripping on a heel and almost toppling to the floor. "Does that thing need a muzzle?"
I glared at Sylvia, and Mini echoed my emotions by growling low and soft. "I think you should leave," I suggested.
Silvia rotated a stricken expression my way. "You cannot be serious."
"That's twice tonight you've questioned my sincerity. I assure you, I am always serious, Mother." Mini came to stand next to me, and holding her crouched, defensive position, she cranked up the volume on her warning growl. I glanced at her in amusement. "I don't think she wants you here."
"Unbelievable," Sylvia huffed. "Knox, we are not through with this conversation."
"True," I agreed mildly. "I'll set up a meeting in a more public space." I patted Mini between the ears, causing her to relax immediately. "Seems like the safer option."
My mother pinned me with a glance so full of contemptuous ire, I had to will myself not to flinch. It had been many years since she'd turned that look on me, but I hadn't forgotten. A man didn't forget the moments his mother felt actual disdain for him. Then she was gone, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and the door slammed shut behind her.
Mini whined, shoving her massive head under my hand. I pet her absently, staring at the closed door my mother had left through. "Good girl, Mini," I murmured.
A muffled thunk from the ice falling into the icemaker sounded through the empty apartment, but neither Mini nor I moved. We both stared after that door, slashed with shadows and blue-black in the deepening darkness. Rain began to patter against the many windows behind me, and I tried to analyze what I had just done. In the grand scheme of my life, the full timeline of moments comprised of joy, heartache, and grueling work, I had never come this close to losing my temper. For me, what I had just done was as close to blowing a gasket as I could fathom.
And yet, I had. I had been angry . No, furious. I'd been in an inferno of rage over the idea that Sylvia Rook looked down on Gemma so haughtily that she had laughed at the idea of my marrying her. It shouldn't have bothered me in the slightest. After all, Gemma was just an unwanted roommate, and I'd done my best to spend as little time with her as possible. I'd gone out of my way to work late and leave early. I'd hired an expensive lawyer to disentangle myself from her.
Suddenly, I remembered what Spencer had said last week. "Why are you trying to untangle from her? Get tangled."
Why am I? I thought with a slowly dawning realization that threatened to burn through me like the rising sun. Why am I trying so hard to get away from her ?
Thoughts of Gemma tangled suddenly flooded my thoughts. The dam of possibilities had burst, and I was immediately swept up in images of Gemma tangled… in my sheets, in silk rope, her hair between my fingers, her wrists above the shower rod. My breathing hitched, and I gripped the edge of the counter behind me. I imagined her drowsy in my bed, stretched out and sated and flippantly letting a quip drop from her lush lips. I imagined myself wrapped around her delicate fingers like a string of fate, and suddenly, tangled became a tangible possibility.
Breathing faster, I put a hand to my face and tried to get a grip on my sanity. But I couldn't. And she was with another man.
Mini whined again, and this time, she trotted over to the elevator. Her straight, pointy ears pricked, and she turned to look at the elevator doors before giving me another significant look. With my hand still over my face, and my chest rising and falling too quickly, I gave the dog an incredulous squint. "Are you seriously communicating with me right now?" Mini barked softly, chuffing, and then pawed at the elevator doors. "I'm going crazy," I mumbled, pushing away from the counter. "I am. I've lost it. This is all her fault."
Mini gave me a distinct eyebrow raise. There was no other description for it.
I shook my head. "I can't go after her. That would really be madness. She would know , Mini. I can't just let her know I've gone head over heels for her. She'd never let me live it down."
Mini stared at me. She blinked. I tapped my hand against my thigh and glanced at the keys hanging on the hook by the door. Mini followed my glance and licked her lips, sitting down heavily like she was waiting. The tapping on my thigh grew faster. I stared down the dog, but she remained impassive, like she was simply waiting for the inevitable.
"Oh, fuck it," I growled. I grabbed the keys. Mini barked happily.