Chapter 13 Devon
DEVON
The weather is turning.
The downpour two nights ago was a prelude to the winter storms that blow through my small town on their way to make New York the picture-perfect wonderland we see in the movies.
Snow drifts in the air, fine enough that when I look up through the scarf bundled around my neck, flakes drift aimlessly through the dark sky then melt into nothing as they reach the ball of light rising from my parents’ patio.
I sit, embracing the bitter chill that numbs my hands and legs while hugging a mug of my father’s tea and gazing out at the trees lining our property.
I spent all day cooking and baking while barely saying a word to either of my parents, still reeling from Kairo’s offer yesterday.
It’s easy to get caught up in work since Thanksgiving is just two weeks away, and we’re up to our eyeballs in pies and themed cakes.
Thankfully, my parents haven’t taken my silence personally.
But marriage.
Real marriage.
He spoke about something so huge, something so important like it really was nothing.
How can he be so throwaway about something like that?
Then again, we became engaged on a whim and I accepted it through the sheer relief of avoiding a forty-thousand-dollar medical debt.
But marriage?
Puffing out my cheeks, clouds of my breath curl past my lips and out into the night air, dissipating above me like a miniature cloud.
Something so important shouldn’t be thrown around so casually, unless it’s just a thing that men do.
Kairo was gentle in his delivery, but something about how easily he tossed that idea out between us reminded me painfully of Axel.
The air around me turns even more bitter as the thought of him crawls over my skin. I
huddle into my coat and sip my tea, trying to chase the taste of his memory away.
I’ve left him behind in a past I’m never going to return to, so it doesn’t matter that I woke up one morning to him thrusting what looked like a marriage certificate in my face while gloating that I was going to be with him forever.
He gave me a black eye when I questioned the legitimacy of the document and my lack of memory of any sort of wedding.
I refuse to believe it was real.
Even drunken me, drowning under the shots Axel would force down my throat, wouldn’t be stupid enough to say I do to a man like that.
He just wanted another reason to hurt and berate me when my name wasn’t changed on my driver’s license. I’m sure of it.
But I’d forgotten about all of that, blocked it out in the deepest parts of my mind until Kairo so casually mentioned marriage like we were discussing the storm.
At least he gave his reasoning, and a few hours after I left his place and overcame the swell of panic that made it feel like I was drowning with every breath I took, I had time to think.
He suggested it like some kind of business deal, and maybe that’s how it would be treated.
Would there be a contract of some kind between us to ensure neither of us got screwed over?
And then an annulment once I used his riches to save the bakery.
But what kind of legal tape is there about my using his money for the bakery?
When we divorce, do I lose it again?
These questions rattling around my mind are the ones I should have asked Kairo while in his kitchen, but instead, I ran, fearing that the sexy, handsome, kind man I’m rapidly falling for was about to morph into my ex.
Unless it’s another trick.
Draining my cup of tea that’s rapidly turned lukewarm, I gaze back up at the dark sky and close my eyes, focusing on the chill caressing my cheeks.
There has to be a catch. Men aren’t that generous without getting something out of it, and I’m not sure I believe his speech about his father. There must be something else going on.
Rising from my chair when the cold gets too much to bear, I head back inside and close the patio doors softly behind me.
Bed is calling, and the house is quiet enough that I should fall asleep within seconds if I’m lucky.
A shot of brandy from the study is tempting, though, to warm my soul and ease me off to sleep, but as I slip my cup into the dishwasher, my gut tightens.
I haven’t drunk to help me sleep since the first month away from Axel.
That in itself has to be a sign that this deal with Kairo is not the way to go. Bad habits are calling and I refuse to go back to that.
Despite my assurances to myself, I end up in front of the study where a lamp glows in the far corner.
Next to it is my father who stands over the drinks trolley, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist while holding an empty glass.
“Dad?”
He flinches at my voice and raises his head, then quickly looks away, but not before I glimpse the tears shining in the corners of his eyes.
My heart starts to race while my stomach tightens as if the tea I’ve just savored has turned to cement.
“Dad, are you alright?” Seeing him cry makes my own throat close up briefly, even as he waves me away and sets his glass down.
“I’m fine. I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I was out on the patio. I thought you and Mom went to bed hours ago.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He gruffly clears his throat.
Papers are strewn about his desk with several of them bearing red ink warnings that make my stomach tighten further as I approach.
“What’s this? Dad, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Go to bed.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”
Approaching him, I reach out, but he dodges my touch and moves back to his desk.
“Devon, it’s not anything I want you to worry about.”
“Mom and you keep saying that, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying,” I snap softly as he sits in a creaky leather chair older than both of us combined. “You can tell me when there’s a problem. I might be able to help.”
Our eyes meet and his lips part, but I point at him before he can speak. “And if you dare tell me you don’t want me to worry because of what happened in the past, then we’re going to have a problem.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and his mustache trembles as he speaks. “It’s just a little trouble with the insurance.”
“What?” I surge for the desk, pulling my scarf off as I try to study the documents on the desk. “You haven’t been trying to put me on your insurance, have you? Because I told you my bills were taken care of.”
Having dodged their previous questions when I came back from the hospital, I hoped they would accept my excuses, but it seems my parents are too worried about me to let it go.
“I never said anything at the time, but Kairo paid for my hospital bills.” I glance down at my cast and flex my pale fingers. “Out of guilt.”
“Kairo Sycamore?” Dad’s gaze darkens and he grumbles to himself. “He’ll charge you back for that in a few years, just you wait.”
“Maybe. But they’re paid so you don’t need to mess around with your insurance to…” I trail off as I pick up one of the letters.
It’s not my name on the information but both of my parents’.
My heart skips a beat. “Wait…”
“As much as I would love to have you on our insurance,” Dad says quietly, “I’m happy your bills were paid because this is for us. Your mother and I are getting on in our years so the cost of the premium is going up.”
“By six hundred dollars a month?” The cost is eyewatering. “What exactly do they think you will be getting up to in your retirement that it costs this much?”
“It’s just how things are,” Dad mutters, and his face falls.
“I’ve been on the phone with them for days trying to sort this, explaining who we are and what we do, but they keep telling me that it’s in line with expectations and trends, and a whole host of other bullshit I don’t understand.
So I’ve been trying to take myself off the insurance so that it’s just for your mother. ”
“Dad…” My heart shatters as I lower the letter.
His face crumples but he hides it behind his hand. “With the rent increase, and now the insurance and having to pay for our own ingredients without the discount from a supplier… It's tough, Devon. Really tough.”
Abandoning the letter, I move around the desk and immediately pull him into a hug. “This is bullshit. Let me talk to them. I’ll sort this.”
“You can’t,” he says, patting my elbow gently. “I was speaking to our lawyer about it, and remortgaging the house is the only option. We can get a good deal and small monthly payments, and then the money we get from the house can cover the rent and insurance increases.”
“But that money won’t last forever, Dad. That’s not a solution.”
“Not a long-term one, but even Silver Canopy has drastically lowered their offer, sweetie. Not that I’m thinking about selling, but it’s painful seeing our life’s work be reduced like this.”
I’m at a loss for words.
Words of sympathy won’t make this better and I have nothing to offer that will do anything more than delay the impending doom.
“Don’t take yourself off the insurance.” I gently kiss the top of his head. “It will be okay, I promise.”
“Devon…”
“Go to bed. It’s late. Get some rest, Dad. I know what to do.”
“But Devon—”
“Dad.” Our gazes meet as I stand. “Please, trust me on this. I have a solution that will fix all of our problems.”
He squints up at me and sighs. “Do you have some millions stashed away that we don’t know about?”
Kairo’s face drifts through my thoughts and I smile. “Something like that. Now, please, go to bed. You’ll be exhausted in the morning.”
His bones creak, and he groans softly as he pushes himself up from the chair. “I’m sorry to put this on you.”
“Bed. Go.”
He chuckles softly and pats my arm as he passes. “You need to rest, too.”
“I’ll go in a sec. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
I fall into his vacated chair as he leaves the office, then I track his movements through the snap of floorboards in the hall and the creak of the stairs as he climbs.
Once the house falls silent, I’m satisfied he’s gone to bed.
I pull out my phone.
It’s just one thing after the other and ignoring Kairo’s offer for my own benefit is one thing.
But I can’t stand by while everything my parents worked for is snatched away.
Kairo’s phone rings three times but instead of the robotic voicemail, it’s his own voice that fills my ears a moment later.
“Devon?”
My heart flutters and a smile starts to creep over my lips before I catch myself and sit up a little straighter. “Kairo?”
“You sound surprised. It is my number you called.”
“No, I know. I just expected to get your voicemail. It’s really late so I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“I can hang up if you prefer to speak to my voicemail,” he says gently, and I roll my eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to leave a quick message.”
“Which is?”
He speaks as if he’s holding his breath and savoring every second of this call, which only adds to my growing confusion of feelings around this man.
I push those thoughts away as my attention drops to the letters my Dad left on the desk.
“I’ve thought about it and I’ll do it. You’ve got a deal. I’ll marry you for real, but only so I can help my family, understand?”
The smile in his voice is immediate. “I understand, Devon.”