Chapter 3
K ate
Six Months Ago
Sobbing on the bathroom floor in the basement apartment I rent from a family in Eternity Springs, I’ve never missed my mom more. She’d know what to say to me. She’d have the best advice, and she wouldn’t judge me or be condescending. “Alright, Tootsie Bell,” she’d say, “pull up your big girl panties. We’ll figure it out.”
Why did she call me Tootsie Bell?
Absolutely no clue.
I loved it, but I never asked her why.
And I regretted it the instant her hand went cold in mine. I watched her suffer for so long, through so many chemotherapy and radiation treatments, that I felt a moment of relief when she finally passed from this world. I was thrilled she was no longer suffering in pain.
Then a wave of grief slammed into me like a tsunami, and I had so many regrets. So many things I didn’t know. All the things I hadn’t asked.
Right now, at this moment, I’d ask — no, beg — for her help. She’d know what to do. Who to go to.
My life is spiraling out of control and I don’t know how to stop it .
“Mom,” I whisper. “I miss you so much, and I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I’m scared.”
I’m not being dramatic.
I was just told I have until this weekend to move out of this crummy basement apartment, because the owner’s oldest son is moving home from college. I am barely making ends meet as it is, and the only apartments in Eternity Springs are at least a thousand bucks more than what I’m paying.
I’m currently working any odd job I can find, scrounging up money here and there, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. A handful of random part-time jobs might bring in some money, but I never make enough to pad my savings account, and I certainly never make enough to pay for health insurance.
Because, honestly, that is the worst thing right now. Whoever designed the American healthcare system better be in hell.
I work a few hours a week as a concierge at Everlasting Inn and Spa, as a bartender at a local dive bar in town, babysitting whenever I can, and nannying for my boss’s three kids. I work a bazillion hours a week, but none provide healthcare benefits, because I’m not a full-time employee. Nick and Sofia Santo, the owners of Everlasting, offered to fudge some paperwork and get me health insurance, but I said no.
I didn’t like that it would be somewhat dishonest. I also didn’t like that it would still be too much money per month, and I’d have to find another part-time job to cover the cost … and basically never sleep.
But mostly, I didn’t want to feel indebted to the Santo family any more than I already was. Nick and Sofia are great. Their son Dominic is the bane of my existence, and I’d prefer not to have anything else for him to hold over my head.
I was introduced to the Santo family by my half-brother, Matt. I only discovered Matt a few years ago when I found my biological father after my mom died. My dad, Christopher Turner, didn’t know I existed, but once I found him, he admitted he had two sons in Mountain Springs, a town a couple hours south, near Colorado Springs. He kept telling me he’d introduce me to my half brothers, Matt and Zane, but continued to put it off until one evening, Matt walked into the bar where I worked. I knew it was him immediately. We have the same eyes. It helped that I knew his name and could stalk — I mean, find — him on social media beforehand.
I was accepted into his group of friends immediately, and even by his mom, which unnerved me initially. Most women would have booted their husband’s illegitimate offspring out of their house, but Angie Turner accepted me with open arms. Matt’s now wife, Victoria, said she had the same reaction I had when Angie pulled her in for a hug. It was the first mom-hug I’d had in years, and I didn’t know I was starving for it.
I thought briefly about moving to Mountain Springs, but there were no jobs, or affordable housing options for me. I helped fill an administrative assistant position for one of my brother’s friends, Nathan, while his usual assistant was on maternity leave, but obviously, they couldn’t offer me anything after that. After my dad was arrested on a variety of charges, the bar where he employed me was seized, and I couldn’t make ends meet on my other jobs. Matt suggested I visit his extended family in Eternity Springs, and that’s how I ended up here.
My lower weekly hours opened me up for helping Matt’s cousin, Dominic, with a nanny position. I adore his kids, but Dominic can suck rocks. He has absolutely no personality other than being a grumpy man who sneers and growls at everyone. I knew within the first hour of employment with him that he was going to make my life a living hell. He critiqued my grammar. My grammar ! He had the audacity to remind me that I was working with his children, and I better set a good example for them. I needed to be ‘on’ all the time, he said.
“Your job is to teach them, Katharine,” he reminded me often.
“My job is to not murder their father,” I muttered under my breath just as often .
“I assure you, I have excellent hearing. You may want to keep those thoughts to yourself.” It should be criminal how attractive this man can make anything appear. Even wearing just a henley and jeans, Dominic is all male, standing just over six feet, and very much embodying the tall, dark, and handsome demographic.
“Oh, that’s cute you think I didn’t want you to hear that.”
And then the conversation was done, because the man lifted one eyebrow, growled deep in his throat, and I had some very inappropriate thoughts about him and hightailed it out of there. But, I was half tempted to teach the kids some Eminem lyrics out of sheer spite. Undoubtedly Dominic wouldn’t recognize the late nineties rapper, as I can only assume he listens to static, white noise, or only boring classical music. But my conscience won out, and I dutifully listened to children’s music around the kids.
Most of the time I was responsible for Dominic’s youngest, Aspen, who was still in preschool. I’d pick up the two oldest kids, Sienna and Carter, from school, then come immediately back to Dominic’s house to get their homework done. They weren’t allowed to relax or unwind. It was homework, chores, and then they could play with toys before dinner.
The man asked me for a curriculum plan for their summer break.
When I asked Matt’s wife, Victoria, who runs a preschool, she giggled vindictively and sent me a pdf of Colorado standards for elementary education. I snuck into the hotel business suite, printed it off, then left it on Dominic’s desk with an eloquently drawn stick figure flipping him off.
The following morning, as I was sitting with the kids as they ate breakfast, Dominic stalked into the kitchen. I’d never seen him run, and definitely never a leisurely walk. Dominic always strode into the room like he was getting ready to force a power struggle.
“What is planned for today, Katharine?” he’d asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. One of the rare things Dominic and I agreed on was the necessity for caffeine to start the day. “I certainly hope art isn’t on the docket, since your skills are severely lacking. ”
“Huh?” I asked, confused as to where he was going with this.
Dominic turned around, a cup of coffee in his hands, and I found myself staring at how tiny the mug looked compared to his hands. “Your art skills. Since you left me the drawing with the standards for education, I assumed you wanted my opinion. I regret to tell you I can’t score it very high, Ms. Reynolds. Try better next time, yes?”
I slammed my hands on the table, absolutely fuming, and stood up to chase after him as he walked toward the garage. “Are you fucking serious, Dominic?”
He whirled around and put two fingers to my lips. “You will watch your language around my children.”
Just the touch of his fingers to my lips seemed to make my entire body buzz with adrenaline. Only a foot or so apart, I could see gold flecks in his irises, a somewhat striking difference to how often his eyes appear black as midnight. My eyes darted to his lips, and when I looked back up, I found him staring at mine. Almost against his will, Dominic’s hand slid across my cheek and into my hair. “Tell me what your plans are today, Katharine.”
His voice skirted along my skin, and I found it difficult not to appear nonplussed. “I’ve decided they’re old enough to learn about the birds and the bees.”
“Katharine,” he growled, a sound so deep and guttural that I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth. When Dominic’s eyes widened, I realized it was louder than I thought, and I stepped back from him.
“Relax. There’s a free class at the nature preserve, and then I plan to take them for a picnic at the park.” I struggled to keep my breathing even as he studied me.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked, clearing his throat as he turned away from me. But I didn’t miss how he appeared to adjust himself as he walked away from me.
He didn’t ask for a curriculum plan again, but he did question me almost daily on what I had planned. I told him I’d be teaching his kids how to have fun, and he actually looked confused. The man has zero social life, works a ton of hours every week, and then devotes himself to spending time with his children whenever he can. But I have yet to see him have ‘fun.’ As a kid, whenever my mom had time, we’d have all kinds of adventures that wouldn’t be considered educational in Dominic’s eyes. But then, life took a nasty turn.
Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was fourteen. She had a double mastectomy, went through chemotherapy, and we thought she was good. We thought she’d won. But my mom held back some important information from me then. She knew there was a high probability of it spreading, and she chose not to tell me. She wasn’t surprised when she was diagnosed again just before my seventeenth birthday. What continued was years of treatments, oncologist appointments, and me quickly evolving from a teen to an adult, learning how to pay bills, fight against our medical system, and watch my mom slowly deteriorate into a shell of herself.
She passed when I was twenty three. Five years ago, almost to the day. It feels like a lifetime ago, and yet also just a blink of an eye. I didn’t realize how alone I’d feel when I went back to our shared apartment after the memorial service. As an only child, she’d left me with no other family. I’d spent the previous five years caring for her, which meant I had no social life. No friends. No boyfriend. Nothing.
Mom wanted to be cremated and scattered throughout the Rocky Mountains. I barely had enough money to pay for the cremation, and only enough for two months’ rent before I’d be homeless. I’d only managed to take a handful of classes at the community college near our apartment since graduating high school, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do. My only options for jobs would be entry-level positions, or places I could quickly learn on the job. When I found a restaurant that would pay for me to attend a bartending school, I leapt at the chance.
A few months after her passing, I began to go through her things to see what could be donated. My mom was passionate about giving to non-profit organizations that helped women, and I knew she’d want her clothes to go to the local service that helped women and children who had left abusive situations. I was surprised to find an envelope in the back of our shared closet containing important papers, including my birth certificate, which had my father’s name on it.
Once I’d tracked him down, I asked him to take a DNA test to confirm our relationship, and he’d agreed. After it was confirmed, he encouraged me to move to Colorado Springs, and he’d employ me at one of his bars. When he hit a financial bump in the road, I was all too willing to have him stay at my new apartment, conveniently one I rented from him. Clearly I was desperate to cultivate a relationship with anyone.
If it hadn’t been for Matt, his brother Zane, and their mom Angie, I don’t think I could have gotten through the time when we all found out the devious nature of our father, Christopher Turner’s, life. Every now and again, he attempts to reach out from prison, but I try to ignore his calls. I’m an empathetic person by nature, and Matt tells me I’m too kind to people that walk all over me. But it’s my dad . It’s hard for me to cut ties with him when he’s the only parent I have left.
“Mom, what am I supposed to do?” I whimper, holding the heating pad to my stomach in hopes that it lessens the pain just slightly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to find another place to live on such short notice when I’m in this much pain, and I certainly don’t think I can physically pack my things. When my mom passed and I lost the healthcare we both used, I lost access to my birth control pills that had helped to alleviate some of the pain I experienced each month. I could probably go to Planned Parenthood and see if they have free, or cheap, options, but I barely have time to make it to the grocery store, let alone a free clinic.
When my phone rings next to my head, I wince when I see it’s Dominic calling. He never texts, always calls. I would rather carry on a twelve-hour conversation via text than answer a phone call. But I know if I don’t answer, he’ll just keep calling.
“Yes?” I answer, hoping he can’t hear my cries of pain.
“Katharine,” his deep voice answers. Never Kate. Always Katharine. I don’t know why he’s decided he’ll call me that. It grates on my nerves, which is probably why he continues.
“What?” I snap.
Silence.
“Dominic. What?”
“You’re crying.”
God dammit. “No, I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”
I fucking hate how he calls me out on everything. How for some reason, he sees my soul better than anyone else. Almost better than my mom did.
“Katharine, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what the problem is.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“But you clearly need it.”
“I don’t need your help, per se.” I cringe as I imagine him smirking in victory as he assumes he’ll save the day. I can almost see him in his home office, relaxed in his high-back leather chair, probably still wearing the suit he went to work in today. His dark brown hair perfectly tousled, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day due to one thing or another. Eyes so dark they’re almost black, and when he sets his laser-focused gaze on me, I feel like he can see into my soul.
“Alright. What could someone help you with?” he asks.
I sigh. No sense in ignoring his question, or hanging up. Dominic Santo is like a dog with a bone when he wants an answer to something. He’ll undoubtedly activate some Santo phone chain and half the city will be involved within the hour.
“You know how I rent a room in town?”
“Yes.”
“Well, their son is coming home from college, so they told me I have to move out.”
“Did you have a lease? They can’t kick you out if you signed a lease for a specific amount of time, unless they wanted to pay to cover your expenses and whatnot. ”
God. He’s never going to let me live this down. “Uh, it was more of a verbal lease?”
“Jesus Christ, Katharine. Do you have until the end of the month?”
“No, they want me out this weekend.”
“I’m assuming you haven’t looked at any other places yet. I’m sure my mom would go with you to look at apartments.”
She totally would, but it’s beside the point. I can’t afford anything in town. “I know she would, Dominic, but I can’t afford things here. My jobs barely cover this room, and they gave me a hell of a deal.”
“How much did you pay?” he asks softly.
“Only five hundred a month.”
He swears under his breath again. “Yeah, you’re definitely not going to find an apartment for that rate here. Could you look for a roommate?”
“I doubt I can find a roommate in a few days,” I say sullenly. I can feel a sob coming. That awful feeling in the base of your throat where emotion is just sitting. Stewing. Waiting for one stupid thing to set off the tailspin that is inevitable.
“I can check to see if we have availability at the hotel,” Dominic says quietly.
And that does it. I begin to cry in earnest, massive tears cascading across the bridge of my nose and down to my ear, where they drop to the bathroom floor.
“I can’t afford an apartment, and you think I can afford the best hotel in town? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Dominic! It’s just been one thing after another for years, and I’m so tired of struggling,” I sob.
“I meant I’d pay for the room!” he blurts out.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I wail.
“Well, no, but —”
“Just because some people have money doesn’t mean you should basically wave it in my face, asshole,” I shout .
“I didn’t mean it that way, Katharine, but I have another idea —”
I interrupt him again. “Oh, I think I’m all tired out from your ideas, Mr. I’m So Important CEO with my big house and my nice car and all the nice things. I bet you get out of bed in a suit, don’t you? Your hair probably already in that sexy wave you always have, and you’re good to go.”
“I don’t have all the nice thi — wait. Did you just call me sexy?”
Fucking hell. “No. Technically, I said your hair was sexy.”
Silence.
“Did you hang up on me?” I wonder aloud.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You were right about one thing in your little monologue, Katharine. I do have a big house.”
I guffaw as I’m ready to rip him a new one. “Way to hit a girl when she’s down!”
“I have a spare guest room, Katharine. It’s in the basement, so it’s not the best. Clearly you’re already used to that, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It would help me out tremendously, as you’d be here to help with the kids when needed.”
I’m so gobsmacked I don’t speak for a solid minute.
“Did you hang up on me now?” Dominic chuckles.
“Uh, no. That surprised me. Not at all what I expected you to say.”
“What did you expect me to say?”
“Not sure,” I mumble, “but definitely not asking me to move into your home. But did you really say I’m used to living in a basement, so it shouldn’t be a problem?”
“Uh, well, I didn’t mean it to sound that way —” he stammers, but I cut him off.
“Kinda think you did, Dominic. You’re just so much better than me, aren’t you? I’m trash, and thank goodness for you offering me your basement guest room! Would you like an award for being so generous?” I sneer. I can almost see his face reddening as he prepares to volley back. Honestly, our arguments and disagreements are a weird kind of foreplay.
Dominic sighs. “You’re absolutely right, Katharine. That was incredibly uncouth of me. I apologize. I only meant that it’s all I can offer.”
“Oh. Okay. Apology accepted,” I whisper.
“Do you think you’ll ever believe that I don’t mean to go out of my way to anger you?” he asks softly.
“I don’t know. You do it so well.”
He chuckles again. “I promise it’s not intentional. I’d like if we could be cordial with each other, especially if you do move in. Honestly, it would be nice to have another adult to converse with more often. It gets a little exhausting talking to the under ten crowd all the time.”
That was nowhere near what I expected him to say. He’d like to be friendly with me, and talk to me more? Not knowing how to respond, I ignore his words and soldier on. “What kind of rent would you charge?”
“I will not take your money, Katharine.”
“I won’t live there for free, Dominic.”
“Isn’t it a little counterproductive for me to pay you a salary, and then for you to turn around and pay rent to me?”
“That’s true.” I stop and think for a moment, humming under my breath. I’ve never liked awkward silences. “I could take a pay cut so we eliminate the need for a double-pay.”
“Or you could just not pay me at all for rent.”
“Dominic!”
“Don’t make me talk to my mother about this,” he warns ominously. “You know she’ll side with me.”
“God dammit. She will.”
“How about this? Let’s take it week by week and see how it goes. You might only need to be here a few weeks, and then it’ll be moot.”
“I can’t believe you’re suggesting I move in with you.”
“It’s the right thing to do, Katharine. And I know if my mom found out I didn’t offer you a place to stay, she’d cut me off at the kneecaps.”
“That’s one hundred percent accurate,” I chuckle. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do, and you really saved the day.”
“I’m honored to help. I’ll be in touch later with a schedule.”
“Wait, what? A schedule?” I shriek. Oh good God, what have I gotten myself into?
Dominic barks back a laugh, the sound almost strange. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before. It’s deep and guttural, and ridiculously hot. “I meant a moving schedule. I’ll get Luca, Stone, and Alex to help us. I’m type-A, but I’m not that bad to make a schedule for you living here.”
I’m not too sure about that last statement.