Chapter 18 – Kylie
eighteen
Kylie
“Staff meeting in fifteen minutes!” Lexi yells from her office and I have to laugh.
“It’s literally just the two of us!” I shout back at her and look at the top of the screen on my computer to see what time it is. “It’s also almost lunchtime. Should we order lunch and meet when the food gets here?”
“Yes,” she sings from her office, “I’m starving.”
I chuckle. “Is my brother joining us for this meeting, or is it just the two of us?”
“He’s arriving later on tonight,” she says, “so it’s just the two of us.”
“Who runs the world?” I sing out and she follows with, “Girls?”
“You know it!” I shout back. “Are we watching what we are eating this week, or are we full-blown give me a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and fries?”
“Ohhh.” I hear her tapping her nail on her desk. “We did work out this morning,” she mentions the morning Pilates class we took before coming to work.
“So burgers it is.” I open my app. “I’m ordering two bacon cheeseburgers and a side of onion rings and fries for us to share.”
“Sounds good,” she agrees. I place the order before I put down the phone and then look back at my computer. I’m going through the emails and making lists of shelters and churches I would like to go and visit, to see if we should partner with them.
Thirty-five minutes later, the door to the office opens and the delivery man sets the brown bag on the desk in front. I push away from my desk and walk out of my office at the same time Lexi walks out of hers. “Where are your notes?” She looks at my empty hands.
“I can’t read notes and eat a greasy cheeseburger, Lexi,” I scoff at her, walking to the brown bag and then heading over to the couch area, kicking off my heels, and putting one foot under me.
“That would be irresponsible.”
“Fine.” She turns and heads back to her office, tossing her folder back on her desk before coming out. “It smells so good.”
“Doesn’t it?” I open the bag and pull out a fry before popping it into my mouth then an onion ring.
Lexi grabs one of those before I hand her a burger and then take one for myself.
I grab the little packets of ketchup and ranch before flattening out the brown bag and emptying the French fries and the onion rings next to each other.
I unwrap the burger and take a bite. “So what are your plans this weekend?” I ask her and she smiles.
“Kirby gets home tonight, and he has a game tomorrow, and then he’s off for two whole days.” She smiles big. “I know the season just started, but I’m already over him leaving,” she says sadly.
“Two whole days,” I repeat the words she just said with as much enthusiasm as she did.
She nods. “Like, I was looking forward to him leaving at the beginning because I had all these things planned, but then I just missed him, you know?” She takes a bite of her burger.
“No, I don’t know.” I laugh as I open a packet of ketchup and fill the corner of the bag with it, dipping a French fry in it. “How would I know? I think my longest relationship was two weeks, maybe a month, and I felt like I was being suffocated.”
“A month.” She gawks. “A month?”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking another bite, “maybe a month and a day.”
“I have food in the fridge longer than that.”
“That’s disgusting,” I point out to her as we eat. “I’m just not a relationship type of girl.” I shrug as I say it, my stomach clenching.
“You are that type of girl.” She picks up a French fry and points it at me. “You just won’t let yourself be that type of girl.”
“I’m really not. I like to do my own thing and not have to worry about someone else. I spent my whole life worried about someone else,” I mention my stepfather. “I’m over it.”
“It’s not always like that,” she counters, and she, out of anyone in the world, understands.
“My therapist says I have to take things in baby steps.” I hold out both hands. “She should know, she’s qualified to tell me how challenged I am.”
“She said take things in baby steps?” she asks me. “Like snail baby steps or like human baby steps?”
“It’ll happen, I guess, when it’s supposed to happen.”
“It’s not going to knock on your door and be like, ‘Hi, I’m here answering your ad that you placed in the universe.’” She shakes her head. “In order for you to find someone, you have to put yourself out there.”
“Hey, I was on that dating app for a solid six months,” I defend myself, “and what did it get me?” I wait for her to answer.
“It got me a man who said he was self-employed.” I look at her.
“He literally didn’t know what that meant.
He said he was dabbling with a couple of things.
” I stop to take another bite of my burger.
“And then this guy took me to his house and his mother is sitting on the couch, watching Jeopardy.”
“Houses in California are expensive,” she tries to defend him.
“He was thirty-five,” I shriek, “and he borrowed the car from his mother!”
“I’m sure they are all not like that,” she says softly.
“Nope, they are all like that,” I declare, and she stops asking me questions as we finish eating, knowing this conversation won’t get us anywhere.
Getting ready for the actual meeting, I walk over to the bathroom, washing my hands and grab my notes to meet her on the couch.
“Okay.” I curl both feet under me. “Let’s get this meeting started. ”
“Okay.” She walks out of her office with the same folder she had before.
“Do you want to go first?” I ask her as she sits in one of the chairs facing the couch. She opens her folder.
“Sure,” she starts, “I have a lead on three homeless shelters.” She looks at her notes. “Each of them in not-so-great neighborhoods. They are trying their best, but their resources are slim to nothing.” I shake my head. “I’m going to go and meet with them early next week, if you want to tag along.”
“I can come with you. I’ll make a list of things they need and add it to the list I’ve already started compiling.”
“Good, I don’t want to make any decisions on my own. It’s better if the both of us see what each shelter needs, and then if there is something I didn’t see but you saw, so we can compare notes.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
“I’ve also been thinking of the next fundraiser.” I groan when she says this, and she laughs.
“I know we have barely finished with the first one.”
“Barely finished?” I say sarcastically and hold up my own folder. “It’s still ongoing.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, fine, but if we are going to rent a venue, we have to start looking now.”
I look up at the ceiling. “Then you should take Kirby and decide that, let me know, and I’ll schedule it in my book.”
“Fine, I’ll drag him along to look for places.” She smiles. “But then you can’t complain when you don’t like it.”
“Deal.” I reach forward to grab my bottle of water and take a sip. “Now, my turn.”
I open the folder and see the sheets of paper from the auction. “All the winners have been notified.” I hand them to her for her to flip through. “The only one who hasn’t gotten back to me yet is Knox.”
She grabs the papers and then flips from one to the other. “He bid on every single item,” she looks up at me and I shrug, “but only won four.”
“Yeah, maybe he was feeling charitable.” I try not to change the tone in my voice. “What’s his story anyway?”
“What do you mean?” she asks me, looking up from the papers.
“I mean, you said he was getting divorced. Did you know his wife?” I ask her, against my better judgment.
It’s been four days since he’s been over to my house.
Four days since I’ve seen him. Four days since I sent the last text.
Sure, he’s been away for a hockey game, but he’s had access to a phone, and he hasn’t texted me.
I don’t even know why I’m so bothered by this, but after four days, I am.
The first day I was like, good. Then I got home and when I slipped into bed, I smelled him on my sheets.
So I made a mental note to change them the next day, which I didn’t do because I said I was too tired, but maybe there’s something I’m not ready to admit.
Either way, it’s been four fucking days.
“I met her briefly,” she shares, “before he caught her in their bed fucking his brother-in-law.” The gasp that escapes me is so loud I’m sure everyone in California heard me.
I slap the side of the couch. “Stop it; you’re lying.”
“I am not.” She shakes her head. “He went home early one day, walked in, found them in his bed. Guy was bone in.” My mouth hangs open while I shake my head side to side. “He turned and walked right back out. Never went back to the house. Checked into a hotel. Called a lawyer. Filed for divorce.”
“Since they’ve broken up, I’ve gotten to know him more because he’s with Jaxon and Kirby all the time. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” I look back down at the folder in my hand but it’s empty, so I have to look back up at her.
“There is a reason.” She leans forward, putting the sheets on the table in front of her.
“I may have—” I start to say. “Perhaps—” I hold up one hand, moving it side to side. “Slept with him a couple of weeks ago.” If I thought my gasp was loud before, Lexi has me beat.
“Shut up!” she shrieks so loud she has to put her hand in front of her mouth.
“And then again another time,” I roll my finger, “and then one more time after that.”
“Three times?” She holds up her hand with three fingers pointed up.
“Well, the first time was—I don’t even think we can call it a first time.” My stomach gets tight and the back of my neck even starts to heat. “It was like a wham-bam in the car.”
“You had sex in a car? With Knox?” She is in total shock about this.
“It wasn’t my fault.” I point at me. “He was being all jerky and then boom—combustion.” She just stares at me, blinking a couple of times. “Then he came back to return the panties I forgot in his SUV.”
“And obviously you had sex again.”
“Well, to be fair,” I start to say, “I technically wanted to see if it was as good as I thought it was in the car.”
“Well, obviously.” She rolls her eyes at me.
“Then he was a dick and said something that I’m not going to ever repeat, but he said it. Then I know I said something I shouldn’t have said to him too,” I admit after hearing what his wife did to him. “So he came by with coffee to say he was sorry.”
“And again, you fell into bed.”
“Well, not the first time. That was on the couch but then after the bathroom, it was the bed.”
“Hold on.” She holds up her hand. “You had sex with him for the first time weeks ago, and you are just now telling me?” She puts the hand she was holding up to her chest as if she is hurt.
“Again,” I inhale, “I think we said we weren’t going to say anything. Or maybe I just assumed no one would.” I swallow.
“Do you think he told Kirby?” she asks me, and I sit up straight, unfolding my legs from the couch.
“I don’t,” I start to say. “If he told Kirby, wouldn’t Kirby call me?” I ask her. “At the very least, he would for sure tell you.” I point at her.
“Yeah, I think so,” she says, “or he may be too stunned to speak.”
“Listen, it’s fine. It’s just sex between two consenting adults.” I trail off.
“How was it?” she questions and I roll my lips. “Actually, don’t tell me. I have to be around him, and I won’t be able tolook at him without having it in my head. With Jaxon, it took me a full month before I could look him in the eye after Ariella told me about their sex life.”
“I won’t say anything,” I get up, “but I will say, the man is packing, and he knows what to do with said package.”
She leans back in her chair and groans, putting her hands over her face. “Now I’m automatically going to look at his package when I see him next.” She shakes her head. “What if Kirby catches me?”
“Then don’t do it,” I reply, picking up the papers from the desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to email him to ask him when payment will be made.” I stop, looking over at her and hoping she’ll do it. “Or—”
“I’m not doing that.” She uncovers her face. “You jumped into that water. You have to swim out.”
“Fine.” I glare. “I’ll text him, even though he hasn’t answered me in four days,” I say, trying not to sound annoyed. “That will be my final time and then after you will have to deal with it.”
“Email him,” she advises as I start to walk out of the room. “Email is better than text, less personal.” I nod. “Unless you want to get personal with him again.” She wiggles her brows at me.
“Nope,” I retort quickly, and certain body parts call me a liar.
“Third time was the charm and now we move on. Besides, he sounds like he has bigger baggage than I do.” I stroll into my office and walk around the desk.
Pulling up the email chain I have with him, I make sure it’s to the point and formal, instructing him where to make the payment to, and even giving him the option to do it online.
I press send and then mumble, “Email sent. Case closed.”