25. Kingston
25
KINGSTON
Well, that was the trip from hell.
I am pretty sure we spent as much time grounded as we did in the air. My phone’s long dead because the plane was older than I am. And I haven’t had a decent meal in. . . too long.
A man cannot live on trail mix alone.
Oh well, at least I made it to New York.
Did I miss the gala and my chance to see Katherine in the dress? Yes. But with any luck, I can convince her to model it for me later.
I drag my tired carcass into Katherine’s building and am relieved to see Vic sitting behind the desk. He was the first one to welcome Katherine to the building, and I know he looks out for her. And since I forgot my keycard, which activates the elevator, I’m going to need a favor because I want to surprise Katherine .
The security guard smirks, his thick black brows lifting at the succulent in my hand. “Kingston. Been a while.”
He stands and extends his right hand. I juggle the plant and give him a firm shake. “Hi, Vic. How’s it going?”
He glances around. “A bit busy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Miss Montgomery sure is popular.” His gaze flicks to a stack of notes an inch deep.
Are those all from today? She’s going to freaking hate this.
I don’t care for so many people knowing where she lives. Glancing over my shoulder, I give the stragglers on the sidewalk a closer inspection.
“I’m here to surprise her, see how she’s doing. But I’m afraid I forgot my key card.”
He nods, not phased by my forgetfulness. “She’s out at the moment. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
A quick tap on the keyboard, and he nods again. Apparently, I’m still on the approved guest list, thank heavens.
“And how long will you be staying?”
“Undetermined.”
“We’ll say a week,” Vic says.
“Sure.”
Frustration boils through my veins. Two million dollars? I scrub a hand down my face, then glance across the polished lobby to the hall where the bank of elevators waits to zip me up to her apartment.
Why are Gabriel Rothburn and Alexander Hunt putting that sort of money on a date with Kat? According to her, she and Gabe get on like oil and water.
Did something change?
Something she hasn’t told me?
I need to get to the bottom of it. Now.
Except Vic seems to be taking his sweet time. Is he trying to make me sweat? Now’s not the time to rush the guy who’s saving me from having to haul all this crap up forty flights of stairs.
He slides a keycard across the marble counter. “I’m glad you’ll be here to support her. Ms. Montgomery’s always been so nice to us.” He circles his finger around in the air, and I know he means the apartment staff.
“Of course.” I tap the card on the desk. “Anything I need to know about?”
Anxiety and frustration boil in my gut. I’m not used to the sensation. I’d asked him to keep an eye on her while I was away, and I know he has. He’s a good guy. Likes his job. And he likes Katherine.
He sits back, hands braced against the desk. Another slow glance around the lounge. This time, I’m positive he’s making sure no one else will overhear him. “Her mother’s a piece of work.”
I’m not even phased by that statement .
“Paid you a visit, huh?”
He nods and tells me how he called Katherine, and Katherine apparently let her mother have it. “Mrs. Winthrope walked outta here like she was ready to burn the place down.”
I wouldn’t put anything past that woman. “Keep your eyes open,” I say. Then, “Good to see you again, Vic.”
He gives a slow nod and glances around again, then leans across the desk, his belly straining his shirt buttons. “I could get in trouble for telling you this, but Miss Katherine didn’t come home last night.”
My lips drop into a scowl. “You’re sure?”
He nods. “Night guards didn’t see her either. I checked the logs.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I go to step away.
“Kingston.”
I stop. Lean back.
“Mr. Rothburn and Mr. Hunt didn’t come home last night either.”
My insides clench like they’re being crushed in a trash compactor.
“They live here too?”
Vic nods. “Penthouse.”
He almost whispers the word.
They live together .
Just a few floors above Katherine.
What the hell is going on?
“I saw the speculation. But she sounded fine on the phone this morning.” He licks his lips and looks toward the glass wall at the front of the building. “I thought you might want to know.”
“Of course.” I shake his hand again. “Thanks, Vic.”
Keycard in hand, I head to the elevator, blowing out a sigh.
What have you gotten yourself into, Wildfire?
Her apartment is quiet. The last time I was here, it smelled of popcorn, and we laughed our butts off as we watched a comedy special.
First things first, I sit the succulent on the coffee table and head for the nook next to the kitchen to plug my phone in. Then I grab a water bottle from the fridge and have a look around. Everything’s in its place. Clean. Tidy. Beautifully decorated but empty of her amazing energy. Her menagerie of house plants looks healthy and tended.
So where is Katherine?
Pacing back to my phone, I give it a tap, hoping it has enough juice to power up. No such luck.
Prowling back to the windows, I tell the succulent, “This isn’t like her. She’s never out of pocket.”
The little plant has no response for me, and I sigh because I’m losing it. I’m talking to an inanimate object as if I’ve been trapped on a deserted island for years, with only a volleyball to keep me company.
I stare out at the skyline. Whoever called this a concrete jungle was correct. Skyscrapers loom like massive tree trunks, and below, people scurry like ants. A helicopter zooms through the sky, a massive mechanical dragonfly.
I drop to a plank position and hold until my muscles start to burn. One minute turns to two and then three.
I wish New York felt like home.
I wish I was as comfortable here as Katherine is. But although the island of Manhattan houses millions of people, it’s always seemed desolate to me. Probably because growing up, I spent part of the year experiencing the wonder of nature. There’s nothing quite like the open countryside in England on my grandparent’s estate or in Italy, where my mother’s family lives.
Why didn’t I claim her when I had the chance?
I mean, I know why. She was so young. I was, too. I wanted to explore, and there was no way I was locking her into something when she was barely out from under her mother’s thumb.
A round of jumping jacks does little to take the edge off my anxiety. The desire to see her smile burns through my veins. I need to sweep her into my arms for a hug, to hear her laughter and stories about the lengths she goes to procure some of her beloved plants.
I close my eyes, hands on my hips.
We could live anywhere. Hell, we could explore the world, one type of cereal at a time. Moving her plant collection would be a chore, but surely there’s a plant-moving specialist out there. That’s a thing, right? Just like moving pianos or other instruments.
“Come on. Come on. Come on. . .” I whisper, trying my phone again. “Yes!”
I navigate to my texts, an instant dose of pleasure flooding me when I see a reply from her. She says she’s okay, but there’s a tendril of doubt that I can’t deny. From the moment we met almost two decades ago, she’s put on a brave face.
I hate her family for making her that way, but that’s not worth thinking about now. Instead, I need to figure out where she is without ruining the surprise.
Kingston: What are you up to tonight?
A handful of minutes pass, and there are still no dots to indicate that she’s replying.
The screen switches to show an incoming call from my mom. Not the woman I’m dying to hear from, but I answer her call anyway.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Kingston! Ciao, darling. How are you? The girls tell me you’re in the city.”
I’m not the least bit surprised they passed along word that I was coming back to the States. Bunch of gossips. Secretly, I don’t mind. I love how close we are, even when we’re scattered around the world .
“I just got in. Iceland was a bit problematic.”
“Problematic?” Though she’s spent over two decades in New York, she hasn’t lost her Italian accent.
“A volcano.”
“Oh! Well, I’m glad you made it safely. Let’s have dinner. I want to catch up. Bring Katherine.”
“Um. . . sure. Let me see when she can make it.” I’ve gotta find her first. We need to talk.
“Sure. Sure.” Her voice goes muffled. Then, “I really wish you two would stop dancing around each other.”
“Ma—”
“I know. I know. But she loves you, Kingston. She’s waited while you trot the globe. She’s not going to wait forever.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
My mother rarely grills me like this, and I’ve always appreciated that fact. She’s dedicated to her kids, her family, and her company. For the most part, she lets us mess up on our own so we can learn. Her mother is not so easygoing. But my dad’s milder personality has helped temper Mama over the years.
“This isn’t about grandkids, is it?”
“I’m too young to be a grandmother, Kingston Saint.” She curses beneath her breath in rapid Italian, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“You say that now. ”
She makes a contemplative humming sound like she doesn’t want to admit I’m right. I grin and wait.
“What are you waiting for?” The way she parrots Marko’s exact statement sends a chill up my spine. “I want you to be happy, Kingston. Truly. And I think Katherine makes you happy, so I hate to see you wasting time. But I’m done. Come see us while you’re here.”
“I will, Mama.”
We say our goodbyes, and I’m left staring out the window. She said nothing I haven’t already thought about.
With a sigh, I put my phone down and stalk through Katherine’s apartment like a tiger.
“Where are you?” I murmur to the city. There’s no answer.
We often communicate via text because our time zones are drastically different. Which is why I’ve almost worn a track in the delicately patterned cream and tan rug before realizing I can call her now and not have to count on my fingers to make sure I’m not waking her up.
Ring.
My heart lifts with anticipation.
Ring.
I hold my breath, ready to hear her voice. Her excitement that I’m in town.
Ring.
Her voicemail clicks on .
My hope fizzles, but I force a smile because I want to sound more cheerful than I feel.
“Hey, stranger. Wanted to hear your voice. Call me,” I say after the recording. The canned response is a terrible substitute for the real deal.
This was not the reunion I’d hoped for. With a sigh, I recalculate. Food. I start there, ordering in from our favorite Thai place. I crank through a round of squats and burpees while I wait. Nothing is settling my nerves. Is it excitement? Dread? Both? I can’t tell. I’ve never felt this swirl of emotions.
Back to my phone, I create a new group text with Ford and LaShonda.
Kingston: Have you guys talked to Katherine?
I hit send, warring with myself. The tightness in my chest is unusual and I rub the wall of muscle. When there’s no immediate reply, I start typing again.
Kingston: I’m worried.
The admission pours from my fingertips.
Kingston: She says she’s okay, but you know how she hates the spotlight.
While I wait for a reply, I check the news. Then social media. It’s ridiculous the number of places that have picked up the story. Some small local paper in Iowa, for goodness’ sake. Katherine’s never even been to Iowa.
A notification slides across the top of the screen, and I click on it like I’m playing a death match of Whack-a-mole.
LaShonda: Yeah. It’s crazy! But I talked to her. She’s on spin cycle, but I think she’s okay.
Closing my eyes, I drag a hand down my face. Spin cycle . A vivid description and not a good place for Katherine to be. Not that she can’t handle herself. She one thousand percent can. But she shouldn’t have to.
It’s not like she’s an attention-seeking diva.
Kingston: That’s what I’m worried about. The coverage of this doesn’t look like it’s dying down.
Three dots pop up, but then another notification appears at the top, this one from Ford.
Ford: Saw her for lunch. They’re coming over to my dad’s place for dinner.
LaShonda: They?
Ford: Katherine, Alex, and Gabe .
I close the text message app, urgency pumping through my veins, and call for a car. Now that I know where she is, where she’ll be. . . and who she’ll be with, the need to see her is stronger than ever.
“Come on, little travel buddy,” I say to the succulent and scoop it up. “We really should think about giving you a name.”
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head for the door. And my girl.