23. Katherine
23
KATHERINE
If my phone was lit last night, it’s even worse today. And there’s no hiding from it as we cruise along the sandy streets toward town.
The number in the text message bubble is nauseating. I didn’t know there was space for three digits.
The missed calls are almost as bad, but I ignore them for now and wade into the texts. There are several follow up thoughts and questions from LaShonda. A couple of check-ins from other friends. A short and surprisingly sweet note from my father, so I shoot him a quick reply. A half dozen messages from Kingston.
Kingston: Someone’s popular. *upside down face*
Then, a few hours later, he sent another message.
Kingston: Let me know if you need to talk.
Or get away.
Or anything.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I blink back tears. It’s like he reads my mind and knows exactly what I need to hear.
I scroll further, scanning his messages, feeling more and more rotten. While I was kissing Alex and Gabe, my best friend was worrying about me.
Kingston: are you okay?
I know you’re tough, Kay, but you don’t have to be.
Let me know you’re okay.
I can hear his voice as I read each of the texts. It’s so tempting to call him. To hear his voice for real.
“We’re here,” Roman announces. His deep, steady voice reminds me of Alex’s. Alert, confident, capable.
I slip my phone back into the wristlet purse as he parks. Here goes nothing.
Roman opens my door, and I slide from the back seat.
“Thank you.”
Long Island is sprinkled with posh towns, each cuter than the last. I adored this place as a child. Lots of nooks and crannies to hide in. A candy shop with the sweetest couple, who always gave me a caramel. A deep breath sweeps me back in time before my parents divorced and my mom became bitter. Back when life was simple and sweet and filled with laughter.
“Is everything all right, Miss Montgomery?”
I blink over at Roman and nod, wishing I had a giant pair of sunglasses to hide behind. Though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. Exposed. Which is nothing new, but you’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Down the street, my brother leans against the side of his restored Bronco. The sight of his lean frame and golden hair has my shoulders dropping from my ears. It’s not even Memorial Day weekend, and he already has a tan.
“Hey,” I say as I approach, and he turns those sky-blue eyes my way.
A smile curves the corners of his lips, and he shoves away from the Bronco, glancing from Roman to me. No questions. Just a silent understanding of who my shadow probably is. Because this is our life. Our nannies were all trained in self-defense and evasive driving. After college, I said no more shadows, and for two years, I came and went.
But as much as I hate to admit it, Alex is right. This kind of attention is new. Maybe even dangerous .
Ford yanks me into a hug, and I close my eyes, soaking in the familiar scent of his cologne.
“What have you gotten yourself into, sis?”
I make a noncommittal sound as I step back and glance around. My nerves are set to vibrate, and I wait for a photographer to pop up from behind a boxwood and take a picture. But people pass by, paying us little attention.
That’s a relief, honestly, but not the plan. Maybe this was a silly idea.
I blow out a sigh. “That’s a long story.”
Dressed from head to toe in Ralph Lauren, he lifts his wrist and consults his watch. “I’ve got time. And lucky for you, we’ve got a mile of the best retail therapy in the country.”
He slings an arm over my shoulder, and I instantly feel better. Lighter. A little less like a raging bitch, but I remind myself that I only told my mother the truth. Was it harsh? Sure. But guess who made me that way?
“Come on. You look like you need to burn some plastic, stat.”
I grin, and he tugs me into a boutique overflowing with decor, candles, and snacks. Ford, of course, heads for a table of sweets.
“So what’s going on?” He shoves a bar of chocolate, shaped like a lobster, into my hands and steers me toward a rack of scented candles.
I tell him about the auction and Mother’s hand in it. How Alex whisked us away from the city because photographers were chasing us.
“We’re not celebrities. I don’t understand the fascination,” I tell him, running my hand over a lovely throw blanket.
“You are this week.” Spoken like a man who has never been bothered by the spotlight. He snags the throw and tucks it under his arm.
As I grumble about the unwanted attention, he pays for our selections and maneuvers me back out onto the sidewalk.
“I know you’d rather hide out with your plants, and I’m sorry if my stepping away from the family business makes things harder on you.”
I give my brother points for being that self-aware. “I’m realizing why you did. I’m never going to be enough, am I?”
He pauses, hands full of bags, and stares down at me. Lips pursed, he gives a slow shake of his head and my heart sinks. Which is funny because I think deep down, I’ve always known that.
I glance around the beautiful tree-lined street with its brick sidewalks and polished windows. It’s another warm spring day. But I feel cold. Jaded. Eyes wide open and not thrilled with the view.
Is this how the rest of my life is going to look?
Endless engagements all to make the family firm wealthier? Trying to impress grumpy old men and an emotionless mother in a vain attempt to win their praise and appreciation?
“Come on. Let’s go buy some lotions and potions.” He nudges me toward my favorite skincare shop, and I don’t protest. I’m a woman in need of a kick-ass under-eye cream.
After a stop by the lingerie shop, where I buy myself a bra and a few pairs of panties, he drags me into a wine and cheese shop. We catch up on him and his dating life and Sutton and his non-dating life. Sutton became our step-brother when our father married his mother. Sadly, she died a few years later, but Ford and Sutton have been inseparable since.
Then we’re on to lunch, seated outside a cute cafe. Roman is stationed two tables away, doing a decent job of blending in.
“I had another panic attack last night,” I admit.
“That’s rough.” Ford studies me with those keen blue eyes that match our father’s. “You okay now?”
He reaches for his water glass as I nod.
“Alex got me out of there. I was just—” I talk with my hands, reliving those awful moments until I felt Alex’s touch. “Frozen. Locked up. It all came rushing back.”
I don’t need to elaborate, and that’s one of my favorite things about my relationship with Ford. He’s always been there for me. And me for him. Sometimes, it was us against the world .
My phone buzzes, but I ignore it and continue. “The paps chased us. Like on motorcycles.”
The muscle in his jaw flexes. From a young age, we’ve been protective of each other. Which makes all of this that much harder to tell him. He’s always been there. My confidant.
And last night, I leaned on another man.
Two other men, I guess. If you want to be technical.
“Go on.”
I reach for my water glass and take a sip. Over his shoulder, I see our server step through the door and turn our way. I tip my chin toward her and sit back in my seat.
Ford orders for both of us and as the server hustles off, he gives me an expectant look. I tell him about the flight out here and the state of the house. I don’t mention that we slept in the same bed because I don’t need to see a brawl between him and Alex.
“I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“You should have called me. You could have stayed with me and Sutton at the house.”
My dad’s house, he means. The house steeped in bittersweet memories.
“Remember the part where I had a panic attack and was barely strong enough to stand?” I hate that part most. The weakness. Feeling completely vulnerable. Helpless .
“Yeah, I don’t like that part either.” Then he smiles. “But at least I’m not the problem child this month!” His fist shoots into the air, and we both laugh.
Roman glares.
“Yeah, I guess when I mess up, I do it big.”
Ford leans over the table, a scowl turning his lips down. “You didn’t mess up. You did exactly what she told you to do. Control freak.”
“The worst part right now is the rumor that Alex and Gabe kidnapped me.”
He huffs a laugh. “Man, sis. You do really go big. This is wild.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
He opens his mouth and closes it just as quickly. I feel a lecture coming on. Honestly, I couldn’t stand one from anyone else right now.
“What?”
“What are you going to do? I thought you didn’t like these guys?”
“I—” How do I explain that somewhere in the last twenty-four hours, things changed? Everything changed. In the scheme of things, my mother’s part in the auction seems both infinitesimal and cataclysmic. It’s like compound interest. My years of being the ‘yes’ girl are over. It doesn’t exactly answer Ford’s question, but it gives me a little hit of dopamine .
“I guess what they say about Scorpios is true,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Once you’re dead to a Scorpio, you could be dying on the ground, and they’d step right over you and keep on walking.”
And that’s finally where I am.
Ford’s expression changes from curious to understanding.
I was pushed, pressured, pinned, primped, and paraded for two decades by people who didn’t care about my feelings. By the one person I should have been able to trust and depend on.
I’m done.
I want off the ride that started with that phone call from the charity organization. My mother’s bomb about my inheritance. The wild auction. My panic attack.
Now, I’ve kissed two men on the same day. Best friends. And that’s not the craziest part.
I want to do it again.
“I don’t want them getting into trouble.” Or have their reputations damaged because of something my mother started.
When people describe the golden child, they mean Ford. He’s got the shiny golden blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a perfect tan, and even, white teeth. Not to mention, he has more charm in his pinky finger than most people do in their whole body.
He’s escaped so much trouble over the years and makes it seem as simple as breathing.
He stares at me now.
“You like them.”
I don’t want to go into that right now. I’m a little scared of how easily I’ve begun to trust them. Not just Alex, that makes sense, but Gabe.
Coming out here has shown me a side of him I’ve never seen before. The more laid-back man who has a sense of humor. And underneath that, the man who was a boy. Hurt. Betrayed?
“Did you ever believe what Grandfather said about Gabriel?”