60. Dante
60
DANTE
I t’s rounding on 8pm when Kingsley finally straggles through the main door of the Brownstone and shuffles up the stairs to her unit. Her security detail enters after her and goes to first floor unit reserved for them.
“How was your day?” I ask, coming down the stairs to greet her. When I’d realized she was going to be late, I’d ordered pizza and eaten with the boys. I had to admit, even pizza doesn’t taste the same without her. Even though I’m happy she has spent the day out with Stella, I can’t say I didn’t miss her company.
“Oh gosh, I’m exhausted,” she says, throwing off her shoes and landing on the couch with a thump. “But it was so good. I think it was exactly what I needed.”
“And Stella. You liked spending time with her?”
“Stella’s amazing,” she says, and it’s like she has stars in her eyes. I think Kingsley may just have found herself a new best friend.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
She frowns, looking perplexed. That frown of confusion is starting to become a permanent fixture on her beautiful face.
“Why do I feel like you’re starting to push me away?” she asks. And I can see why she would think that’s what I’m doing. First, I set up the day with the wives and daughters of some business associates I have in the city – a terrible fail if ever there was one – then I simply watched her walk away from me and out the door to a day with Stella.
I stand and walk to her side of the room, sitting beside her on the couch. She straightens, no longer slouching, and I turn to her, giving her a small smile. To me, it feels like a sad smile, that she would think I was trying to get rid of her. When the opposite is true.
“I’m not pushing you away, King. I just think you’d benefit from spending time with others.”
“But you’ll always be in my life, regardless of how many other friends I have in my camp?”
I have never felt her so fragile.
“I’ll be in your life for as long as you need me.”
“No, that’s not enough.” She shakes her head and stands, her body vibrating with anxiety. “Want and need are two different things – even I know that.”
I cock my head, looking at her carefully. Kingsley is getting emotional, which is something she never does.
I try the direct approach with her, asking her to define what she believes she wants.
“What is it that you want, Kingsley?”
“I want you to never leave me, even when you think I no longer need you with me.”
“That’s a hard ask, King. You’ll change your mind one day when you meet someone who will become king of your heart and fulfil your life like no one else can.”
She gives me another firm shake of her head, and I can see moisture pooling in the depths of her eyes. I never want to leave her life. But nor do I want to force myself onto a woman who doesn’t really know what she wants.
When her tears roll down her cheeks, crystal clear droplets resembling diamonds, I smooth a thumb across both cheeks to chase them away and push a kiss to her forehead. I hold her for a long time as we stand there in her living room, and when I make a move, she pulls me back to her and tells me to stay. I’m torn. I walk her to the sofa, lay down then pull her to me so we are laying on our sides, spooning into one another. It is probably the worst thing I could possibly do and I’ll probably regret it later, but it is all I can give her and it seems to calm her down. And that’s how we end up spending the night, our bodies melded into one another, until the early morning hours of our last day in New York.
* * *
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, as we settle into our flight.
“I have a headache.” She’s deflecting.
“I’m sure that’s code for something,” I mutter, calling the hostess over for some Advil. She hands me a bottle and some water, and I shake out two pills for Kingsley. She takes them and thanks me, although she’s been in a mood I can’t fathom ever since we left the brownstone.
“What’s really wrong?” I ask, and she sighs, turning away from the window to look at me. I know she hates complaining, but I feel like she really needs to get whatever it is off her chest.
“I feel all funny inside going back to Seattle,” she says, waving her hand around the general region of her stomach. “Like I don’t want to go back and face Tate and all the problems we’re facing. I don’t want to deal with any of it.”
“That’s understandable,” I tell her. “You said so yourself, that you’ve always toed the line and followed a script. You’ve never had to stand up for yourself. And now that’s changed. So you’re nervous. Anxious. You don’t know what to expect.”
“Exactly! See, you get me.”
In another life, I could’ve been a therapist. A successful one.
“You’ve got a good team on your side, King. And I’m with you every step of the way until you feel comfortable enough to wade through the waters on your own. And even if you don’t ever feel like you can do it on your own, I’ll still be there for you. There’s no expiry date on our friendship.”
She finally falls asleep two hours into the flight, and I take the seat opposite her, if only to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as she naps. She is so beautiful, asleep or not, and I can’t help but wonder about all the possibilities between her and me. It is my silly place when I have nothing better to do and find I can’t get her out of my mind. I see images of us together, living the life I’ve always imagined. And the images always end with one that is so specific, I find it hard to ignore… the image of a happily smiling King, her belly swollen with my child.
* * *
When we return to Seattle, we do the smart thing and settle on staying at a hotel which could do with our business and is willing to discreetly clear two levels of suites for us. This suits our purposes. I let my father know we’re back and ready to rock ’n’ roll. I can hear his frown through the phone as he pauses before saying anything.
“Saul Hammersmith called me.”
It is my turn to frown. My father doesn’t usually speak in cryptics. Saul is our lawyer and financial advisor.
“Problems?”
I can feel him shaking his head in response. My father and I are so in tune with one another, we can literally predict the other’s reaction before it even happens.
“Regarding the reading of Maddog’s will.”
Saul was also Maddog’s lawyer.
I know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that jazz. But Saul had never once, in all the years we’d known him, crossed that line of client privilege between his two top clients. And I could see why the two men had both opted to use the same lawyer – he was the sharpest in the industry, and a bulldog when it came to going to war.
“What does that have to do with you?” I ask. Then as an afterthought, I add “Why haven’t they read his will yet?”
“You can thank Kingsley for that,” my father tells me. “And it’s probably a good thing she kept delaying it, because Saul assures me the timing is perfect.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with you.”
“Not me. You and me. He wants us both there.”
Fuck. Me.
I had only ever met Maddog fleetingly on the rare occasions that our businesses overlapped in some way due to a third party or when we coincidentally bumped into one another at functions. He’d always been appropriately polite, with myself and my father, but had otherwise kept his distance.
“When?” I ask, running a hand through my hair. Sometimes I wished that jet lag would claim me and carry me away from the burdens of every day life.
“This afternoon. Don’t be late.”