Chapter 13 #2
Perhaps if I hadn’t watched him jerk off, I wouldn’t have the dirty thoughts going through my mind… But sadly, I know too much… And all I can think about is how badly I want his hand to touch me with the same roughness and intensity.
Whoa… Where did that come from?
I feel my skin begin to heat at the wildly inappropriate image and try to steer my thoughts back to the conversation, reminding myself that he’s just trying to distract me—or torment me—either way, it’s all mind games and nothing more.
“Scout, I hope you brought your appetite. I sort of went overboard with the side dishes,” Mrs. Kingsley says as she, Roman, and Mr. Kingsley file into the dining room carrying platters of food.
She sets a beautiful golden roasted chicken down in the center as Mr. Kingsley and Roman fill in the gaps with various side dishes from mashed potatoes to green beans, to an heirloom tomato salad with cucumber and fresh basil.
“Bon Appétit. Dig in while it’s good and hot,” she says, and no sooner do the words leave her mouth, then Guy and Roman take her at her word and begin scooping piles of food onto their plates.
My mouth waters at the delicious aroma, and I can’t help but notice how different eating with the Kingsleys is compared to my family. There’s a bowl of fresh bread and butter, the food smells amazing, seasoned with aromatic spices that mingle together, and there’s so much color on the table.
When my family serves dinner, we’re lucky to have one side. My parents are the kind of people who consider garlic powder to be spicy.
Where I come from, food is a means to an end and is only served elaborately to impress guests. And you can forget about sides full of carbs. I couldn’t tell you the last time my mother was in the same vicinity as a piece of bread.
But not Mrs. Kingsley, one of her favorite love languages is feeding people, and tonight she held back nothing with this incredible spread. It’s as if she incorporated a little something for everyone, making sure they all feel her love for them.
Luka sets down a plate full of food in front of me—something he did before I could argue—and as if reading my mind, asks, “I thought Jett said he’d be here tonight?”
“He got tied up at work. Said he’d come later if he could get a chance,” Roman answers between bites, not even looking up from his plate.
“Fifty bucks says he ghosts us again,” Guy says without missing a beat.
Roman’s fork pauses midair as he turns to Guy and offers his hand in a shake. “You’re on.”
“Are you serious right now? You’re betting on whether your brother will show up?—”
Before she can finish scolding them, Mr. Kingsley wipes his mouth and adds, “A hundred bucks says he calls with an emergency that only he can deal with.”
Roman’s smile grows wider. “You’re on.”
Mrs. Kingsley smacks Mr. Kingsley on the back of the head.
“Ow… what’d you do that for?” He winces, turning to look at her like he’s shocked.
She blows out a huff and rolls her eyes. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself for encouraging them, much less getting in on it.”
“Mary, I’m merely taking advantage of a lucrative financial opportunity. It’s nothing personal.”
“You’ve been retired for less than a year, find a better hobby than betting on our children’s behavior, Frank!”
He flinches as if waiting for another smack, then shrugs and adds, “It’s not just our children,” he says defensively.
“Just last week, I won a bet over whether Dr. Drizzle would unbutton more than three buttons on his shirt during his emergency weather broadcast.” He flashes her a cocky grin and points at himself.
“And guess who was right? By the end of his ten-minute broadcast, that dirty bastard had undone four buttons on his shirt and rolled up his shirt sleeves! Can you believe it? On cable television for everyone to see!”
“Oh, now you’re just being jealous. Just because I have a new interest in meteorology, now you’re keeping tabs on the weather man.”
Mr. Kingsley narrows his eyes. “You recorded a tornado warning and watched it back three times over the course of a few days! Who watches a weather report from the past?”
“It’s called studying my craft. I told you that. And he can’t help it, he gets hot when he’s stressed.” She shrugs. “You watch the football show, and I watch the weather.”
I forgot how much I love watching this family banter.
They’re so funny when they argue about trivial things because despite how heated things seem to get, I always know they’re kidding—mostly.
And no one can deny that Frank Kingsley is just as head over heels for his wife today as he was the day he met her.
You can see it in the way he looks at her, even when they’re squabbling and seem to be at each other’s throats.
It’s all a show, and he loves getting a rise out of her.
Innocent teasing and joking are another one of the Kingsleys love languages, and to that, no one is safe.
“It’s called the game… the football game. It’s not a show. How many times do I have to explain that to you?”
“You don’t. Maybe I’m just trying to get you to unbutton your shirt for me, Franky,” she says sweetly, placing a palm on his cheek before sliding it down his neck.
He catches her hand over his heart and holds it there. “Well, if that’s all you want, we can kick these kids out and pretend there’s a thunderstorm outside. I’ll be happy to unbutton my shirt and roll my sleeves up for you.”
“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” Guy says as he downs his glass of wine without even flinching, then promptly refills his glass.
“You guys are disgusting. I love how much you love each other, but I could do without the explicit reminders while I’m trying to eat,” Roman adds in between bites.
They smile warmly at each other, and just like that, their squabble is over. You can practically feel the love radiating between them. I’ve always wanted a love like theirs, and I’m happy to see they haven’t changed a bit. It gives me hope that true love really does exist.
Mrs. Kingsley turns her attention back to me and Luka.
“Okay, enough of the small talk.” She gestures between us with her fork.
“What I really want to know is, why I had to hear about the two of you getting married from Miss. Scarlett in the produce aisle?” She sets down her fork and wipes her mouth.
“I get it, you wanted to keep the ceremony between the two of you… But you couldn’t have even given me a heads up? ”
My stomach sinks, feeling the searing guilt begin to rise in my chest, and then I feel Luka’s hand on my thigh, squeezing tighter, making my brain glitch at her question.
I’d like to believe his intentions behind his distraction is intended to be helpful, but the chances are probably closer to a fifty-fifty split.
“Mom, like I said… We were worried about how Scout’s parents were going to handle it, and we didn’t want to make things any more difficult.”
I shake my head. “No, Luka. Your mother’s right.
We should’ve told you.” I turn so that I’m facing them both as I say, “It’s my fault.
Luka was trying to make it easier for me, but I accept full responsibility.
I’m sorry I was so selfish…” My apology is interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open.
“Sorry, I’m late! My new bartender had a family emergency, and I had to cover for her,” Jett calls as he steps into the dining room. His face flashes with surprise when he sees me—but he quickly recovers as he takes a seat next to Roman and quietly serves himself.
“Honey, I’m so happy you made it,” Mrs. Kingsley coos, and I can’t help but see the relief in her face. Jett was always distant, from what I remember and judging by the thick tension in the air ever since he walked in, I’m assuming that hasn’t eased. If anything, it feels heavier than I remember.
“Glad you could make it, Jett. How’s everything going at Restaurant?” Roman asks, then looks at his dad and Guy and mouths behind his hand, “Pay up.”
Mr. Kingsley and Guy don’t even try to be inconspicuous as they both pull out their wallets and hand over the cash.
Roman flashes a smug grin. “Good doing business with you.”
Jett shakes his head. “Seriously? You’re betting on if I’ll show up for family dinner now? Sounds like you two need a job. I’ve got a dishwasher position open if you’re really that bor?—”
“Who’s ready for dessert?” Mrs. Kingsley cuts in, already jumping up from the table. “I’ll go grab it, and then I want to hear all about how you two reconnected.”
“Here, let me help,” Mr. Kingsley says, excusing himself to follow his wife into the kitchen.
Guy reaches for the wine and tops off his glass. “Glad I cleared my schedule. I didn’t realize I’d be getting dinner and a show.” He gives us a wink, and I feel the panic already rising in my chest.
How could we be so negligent? We didn’t even come up with a story…
“Stop freaking out,” Luka whispers, his hand moving higher on my thigh, making my nerves heighten even more than they already are. “Just follow my lead…”
I nod as I reach for my own wine now. Looks like I’m going to need it.