2. Kyle
2
KYLE
“Are you sure you should be here tonight?” I question Victoria.
It sounds way harsher than intended, but Victoria’s due date was a week ago, and she has that funny kind of walk that women have in the later stages of pregnancy, like she’s trying to carry a ton of boxes and can’t see where she’s going.
“Whoa, is this what the family taught you in Ireland, to speak with no filter?” My brother Caleb places his arm around Victoria’s waist and steers her away from me.
Victoria laughs. “I’m pregnant. I’m not sick. And I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Her eyes seek out her best friend Sienna who is charming a group of guests in front of a painting that appears to float off the canvas to speak personally to the viewer.
My gaze flits back and forth between Sienna and the artwork. I don’t know what it is—I’m no art connoisseur—but there’s something familiar about this piece.
“Sienna is stunning tonight.” Victoria’s voice jolts me back to the room.
I know what I was doing: trying to look anywhere but at the artist in the green velvet dress. But now that Victoria has said her name out loud, I can’t drag my eyes away from her. Stunning doesn’t cut it.
I’ve been away for three months, trying to clear my head, and learn to exist with the heavy weight of Sienna’s rejection. I came on too strong, too soon after I found her again. She’d been kidnapped because of our family, and I didn’t even give her a chance to breathe before I was telling her I loved her and begging her to forgive me.
No other woman has ever had this effect on me.
The night we met, New Year’s Eve six years ago, should’ve been the first night of the rest of our lives. When she suggested we chase the sunrise, I almost added the word first.
First sunrise. First kiss. First of everything two people could possibly want to share.
Then our lives blew up because of a truck driver who didn’t know when to say no to a few beers. My brothers pulled me from the wreckage. They did what they thought was right: got me out of the situation before the press got hold of the story. They checked Sienna’s pulse, or lack of, and figured there was nothing they could do for her. I still can’t forgive them for it.
I tried to find her. I didn’t know at the time, but Caleb tried to find her too, only he was searching for a corpse, while Sienna was fighting for her life in a hospital with burns covering most of her body.
“Come on.” Victoria links her arm with mine and leads me across the room.
Sienna does a double take when she spots me. She excuses herself from the small group of guests and joins us, her appraising gaze sending signals directly to my cock.
Focus , Kyle.
“You made it, V.” Sienna leans across Victoria’s swollen belly to hug her. “I was sure you’d go into labor today.”
“I warned the baby to stay inside until tomorrow.”
Pregnancy suits my sister-in-law. Her skin is glowing, her eyes are bright, and her hair tumbles over her shoulders in thick luscious curls.
“Kyle.” Sienna peers at me from beneath lowered lashes. “You look … different.”
My hair has grown while I’ve been away, and I’ve cultivated a layer of so-called designer stubble which I decided to keep. I still walk with a limp from my leg being shattered in the horrible wreck that changed our lives forever. But I think what she means is, I’ve lost the veneer of anxiety that shrouded my life before I went to Ireland. I took advantage of the fresh air, vibrant Irish scenery, and roaring log fires in country pubs while I was away, and tried to let go of everything else going on back here.
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
Her fingers instinctively play with the scarf around her neck, but there’s a smile on her lips, nonetheless. I’ll take it as a win.
“When did you get back?”
“A week ago.”
I wanted to swing by the gallery to see her. Fuck knows, I’d have come straight from the airport if I thought she’d have been pleased to see me. But I didn’t spend the last three months promising myself that I’d give her space only to ruin it the instant I set foot back inside the city.
Only now, I can’t be certain, but she almost seems disappointed. Her shoulders drop momentarily. Then a server, a young guy wearing smart black pants and a crisp white shirt approaches us with a tray of champagne flutes, and the moment passes.
I sip my drink, the bubbles fizzing behind my teeth.
Now that I’m standing beside her, I feel my resolve and good intentions crumbling. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. There shouldn’t be this awkward space between us.
So, ignoring my head that’s screaming at me to walk away before I cross the flimsy line keeping us apart, I lean my face close to hers, so close I can smell her light, understated perfume, and say, “Favorite piece of art?”
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, and half-turns towards me. It all seems to happen in slow-motion. I can see the shadow of her eyelashes on her cheeks, the freckles spattering her nose, the curve of her lips which are exactly as I remember them from years ago.
But before she can respond, a tall guy in a blue Armani suit swoops in from out of nowhere, and kisses her cheek, raising a faint blush as Sienna pulls away. From both of us.
“Nick?” She blinks furiously as if trying to bring him into focus.
But I don’t need to adjust my eyes. The guy’s raven-black hair is slicked away from his forehead. His cheekbones and jaw are expensively chiseled to perfection. His eyes are pale-gray, and his smile so wide, I can see his back teeth. I’d wager that he practices his smile in front of a mirror each morning before he leaves home in case he gets caught on camera. Wouldn’t want to be seen looking anything less than immaculate.
“What are you doing here?” Sienna asks.
He obviously wasn’t on the guest list; this gives me a small thrill of satisfaction.
“You mentioned tonight was your opening night last time we met.”
My fists instinctively clench. That was for my benefit, the guy hasn’t even looked at me yet.
“I couldn’t miss it.” Yep, the fake smile isn’t going anywhere.
“Nick.” Sienna takes a deep breath and glances my way, the color still in her cheeks. “This is?—”
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Nick takes her arm and guides her away from me, his gaze dragging across my face as though I’m invisible.
Sienna peers at me over her shoulder. She isn’t smiling. But my eyes are locked onto his arm which has already snaked its way around her shoulders.
Lower it, I dare you .
My hackles are up. Something about the man makes my flesh crawl, and the thought of Sienna being touched by him makes me feel nauseous.
“Deep breath. I can see your knuckles.” Caleb is standing next to me. I didn’t even hear him coming.
“Do you know that guy?” I gesture to Nick with a nod of my head.
“No, but I’ll find out who he is.”
“I’ll do it.”
The guy obviously wanted to get Sienna away from me. He didn’t even bother with introductions. But from the way Sienna has already extricated herself from his arm, I get the feeling that he’s a little too close for her liking.
Well, that makes two of us.
“Kyle, I know how you feel about Sienna,” Caleb says.
I feel a ‘but’ coming. I guess it must be easy to hand out advice when you’re about to have a baby with the woman you love. I don’t feel any bitterness towards Caleb and Victoria; they met the same night I met Sienna, and they got their second chance for love last year when they were reunited. I’m happy for them.
Caleb didn’t almost kill the love of his life in a car crash.
“Give her time,” he adds now. “She’ll see straight through the douchebag when she realizes that he thinks he’s the beautiful one.”
I clink my champagne glass against his. It’s a fair point; I only hope he’s right.
The evening drags. It’s going well for Sienna, and for that I’m grateful, but every time my eyes seek her out, hoping to get another moment alone with her, Mr. Armani is right beside her, treating her like his property. When I hear laughter, there he is, all white teeth and well-practiced smile. Before Sienna’s speech, he’s there clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention, winking at her like he’s got it all in hand.
I swap my champagne for water. Sienna might not want my protection, but someone needs to keep Mr. Up-Close-and-Personal in check, and I don’t want alcohol to cloud my judgement.
Later in the evening, I’m studying the painting I noticed when I first walked in when a faint ripple of commotion reaches me from somewhere near the back of the gallery.
I turn around and spot Caleb helping Victoria into a seat while she clutches her abdomen, face contorted into a grimace of pain.
“Shit!”
I navigate artwork and people, to reach them a second too late. Once again, Nick swoops in, crouching in front of my sister-in-law and speaking to her in his silky-smooth voice. “Have your waters broken?”
Victoria’s face relaxes a little. Caleb cups her hand in his and raises it to his lips. “No.”
“How often are the contractions coming?”
“They were every five minutes.”
I pick up on the ‘were’. “Were you in labor before you got here?”
Victoria offers me a tight-lipped smile. “The pains were intermittent. I thought I could deal with them so long as they didn’t get any stronger, and I wanted to be here, for Sienna.”
On cue, Sienna appears beside me, and I force myself to ignore the scent of her perfume and the swish of her dress against my legs. “V?” Her eyes are wide. “Are you in labor?”
Victoria doesn’t answer. As another contraction grips her body, she squeezes her eyes shut and inhales deeply, releasing her breath through her button-hole shaped mouth.
Nick waits for it to pass, watching Victoria so closely, I don’t know how Caleb hasn’t throttled him yet. “Two minutes between contractions. They’re getting stronger, aren’t they?” At Victoria’s nod, he turns to Caleb. “I’m a surgeon not a gynecologist, but I delivered my sister’s baby. Long story. But let’s just say that I’ll do what I can.”
Victoria’s breathing is already growing ragged, and her knuckles turn white as she grips Caleb’s hand. A low groan escapes her lips, and I don’t think she even registers it.
“This is going to be quick.” Nick’s tone is firm, reassuring. He’s confident that he’s the only person here who knows what to do in the circumstances and he’s reveling in being in control.
“I’ll get the car brought to the door,” I say.
I’m already two steps away when he chimes in, “There isn’t time.”
Victoria turns huge dark eyes to me.
“We’ll get you to the hospital, Victoria.” I hold her gaze. “We can alert the gynecologist. You’ll be in safe hands.”
I’ve seen the birth plan. Mom made sure we all knew what was to happen in case she or Caleb weren’t around when Victoria went into labor. Tonight, Mom and Emily are at a charity event, and one glance at Caleb is all I need.
Victoria gives me the briefest nod.
This isn’t a power struggle, even if that’s Nick’s agenda. This is about delivering my niece safely into the world and ensuring that my sister-in-law gets the medical care she needs. I’m taking no chances. I’m not about to start playing God with my family’s lives.
My phone pressed to my ear, I alert the driver, and clear a path through the gallery to the exit. I turn around to find Caleb and Sienna supporting Victoria as she makes her way slowly across the room, Nick trailing behind them as though poised to catch the baby before she hits the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Si,” Victoria murmurs. “This was supposed to be your night.”
“Hey, don’t you dare apologize. This is my goddaughter you’re bringing into the world.” Sienna glances at me, and I’m relieved to find that we seem to be on the same page: getting Victoria to hospital.
I step outside first and open the rear passenger door of the car that’s waiting with the engine running.
Victoria climbs onto the back seat and clings to the headrest in front of her, body bent double as another contraction takes hold.
I pat Caleb’s shoulder as he gets into the car, close the door, and stand back, watching the vehicle enter the steady flow of traffic. They’re about to meet their baby girl. It’s the start of a whole new adventure for them as a family, and excitement gurgles inside my chest.
I turn to Sienna. Swamped with emotion, I want to tell her how privileged I feel to share this moment with my brother and sister-in-law. How happy I am that she’s here too. But she has already gone back inside.
Peering through the window, I spot her immediately in her green velvet dress. She has her back to me, so I can’t see the expression on her face. She’s with a small group of guests, but there’s no mistaking the lanky guy in the Armani suit standing right beside her.
Head down, I walk back to my apartment.
My niece, Holly Marie Murray, arrives safely at one minute past midnight weighing eight pounds and six ounces. She’s a December baby. A Murray. Although, studying the photos from Caleb that are currently taking over my inbox, and the mop of dark hair on the baby’s head, she’s going to look like her mom.
I don’t sleep. The adrenaline fades, and I’m left balancing the scales between excitement about the baby’s arrival and concern for Sienna. Was it my imagination, or was Nick pushing the boundaries between friendliness and slimeball aggression?
And if so, what am I going to do about it?
I rise early. The sky is dark and heavy, the city is already a hive of flickering lights and humming traffic. The long winter nights and gray days that barely make an appearance before darkness descends again, don’t usually affect me. But after the vast openness of Ireland, the city is starting to feel claustrophobic.
In my office, I ask the concierge to bring me coffee and fruit, and power up my computer.
Nick, clearly not a fan of formal introductions, said that he was a surgeon. He wasn’t on the guest list, and Sienna was surprised to see him. He also injected into the conversation the seemingly casual comment that she’d mentioned the gallery opening the last time they met.
In the moment, I’d taken the bait. I assumed, as insinuated, that he and Sienna were perhaps more than friends. But she seemed uncomfortable with his proximity, and thinking about it now, I didn’t see her reciprocate his touchy-feely approach. She didn’t lean into him the way two people who enjoy each other’s company would.
I’m no expert on body language, but I’m almost certain they know each other on a professional level, and it has nothing to do with art.
Into the search engine, I type in the name Nicholas, cosmetic surgeon, and New York City. There are nowhere near as many results as I’m anticipating, and it takes me less than thirty seconds to locate Nick Morris and open his website.
The first page contains a color image of him smiling at the camera in a silver designer suit, white shirt, and gray tie. All that’s missing is a sparkle from his expensive teeth to complete the golden-boy image.
“Okay, let’s see what you’re hiding, Nick Morris,” I mutter to the screen in front of me.
I trawl the Internet, digging deeper and deeper, through Nick Morris’s work history, college, and as far back as high school. Nothing. But no one is that squeaky-clean, and this is ringing more alarm bells than if I’d discovered a wife, a mistress, and a criminal record. I know first-hand how unwanted information can be made to disappear.
I don’t trust the guy.
I don’t know what his agenda is concerning Sienna, but my gut is telling me that it has nothing to do with love. One glance at the guy was enough to tell me that number one on his list is Nick Morris, and perhaps, as Caleb said, I should trust Sienna’s judgement, but he’ll have to lock me in a cell to keep me from looking out for her.
My suspicions are burning a hole in my chest.
I can’t concentrate on work, I can’t drag Caleb away from his baby girl, and Mom will already be besotted with her granddaughter too.
So, I do the next best thing. I call Terry, my step-father, and arrange to meet him in the Wraith’s restaurant for breakfast.
“What a bonny baby!” Terry’s sporting his granddad grin as he takes a seat opposite me at Caleb’s regular table. “Have you seen the pictures?”
He doesn’t wait around but unlocks his phone and opens an image of Mom cuddling baby Holly in the hospital room. Mom looks young again, as if having a new baby in the family has erased life’s creases from her forehead and given her an added roll of the dice.
I can’t help smiling.
“She’ll break hearts when she grows up.” Terry locks his phone, and orders coffee and loaded pancakes. “You’re looking well, Kyle. Ireland suits you.”
We talk a bit about my trip, but Terry’s astute enough to pick up on the fact that I’m holding back, contributing the bare minimum to the conversation.
“What’s going on, lad?” He spears maple-syrup covered pancake onto his fork, pops it into his mouth, and sits back.
Deep breath. I know how this is going to sound, but I have to ask. “Ever heard of a cosmetic surgeon called Nick Morris?”
He swallows, cricks his neck from side to side, washes his food down with a mouthful of black coffee. He’s thinking. “Should I have?”
“He’s Sienna’s cosmetic surgeon.”
Terry sets his cup down and scratches the corner of his eye. “And?”
I explain that I met the guy for the first time at the gallery opening where he arrived unannounced, and that I don’t trust him. “I’ve done some digging. He’s either a saint or he has someone mopping up his footprints.”
Terry nods, pensive. “Don’t trust him how?”
“He showed up without an invite, didn’t wait to be introduced, and then didn’t leave Sienna’s side. I haven’t figured him out yet, but his snub was aimed directly at me.”
“Okay.” Terry sits forward and rests his elbows on the table. “Let me ask you something. Would you be so mistrustful of the guy if this had been about anyone but Sienna?”
I swallow a mouthful of coffee and wince as it scalds my tongue.
Would I? It’s virtually impossible to answer as this does already concern Sienna. But thinking back to the fake smile and the hand on her lower back guiding her around the gallery as if he owned it, I know that this is about more than him touching her.
“Gut instinct: yes.”
“Fair enough. You want my advice, tell Sienna how you feel.” I’m about to shut this suggestion down when Terry raises a finger. “You can say your piece, and the rest is down to her.”
Maybe he’s right.
But I’m treading a fine line with Sienna, and I don’t want to tip her over the edge and straight into the arms of Nick Morris.