Chapter 13 #2
“Hello, Mr. Slade, Ms. Donovan,” she said as I took my first step onto Brightwater Island. She took out her phone, and before we could reply to her greeting, she began reading to us. “Colin, your mother wants you to meet her in the sunroom as soon as you’re able to—”
“Thank you, Malia. We’ll freshen up and meet her there as soon as we’re able to,” he said, his hand resting at the small of my back. Then it fell as Malia stared at him.
“She won’t like waiting,” she said, her face and voice devoid of expression.
He looked at me, and I shrugged.
“We’ll go straight there,” he said.
She didn’t smile exactly, but it was obvious she was pleased there were no further arguments. “You will be in your usual bedroom with your guest, and I’ve supplied the proper bath items, Ms. Donovan, but please tell me if there’s anything you need that’s missing.”
“Thank you,” I said, hoping she understood I was grateful for all her obvious hard work.
“Now, Colin, your brother and Ms. Walsh have asked me to stress to you the importance of your being on time this evening.”
Colin started to ask, “Why is it import—” but he must have seen how Malia lifted her eyes but not her head. “I’ll be on time.”
“Your father wants you to go on the fishing boat tomorrow morning,” she said, this time lifting her face to look at us both.
Colin shook his head. “I’ll speak to him.”
Malia continued ticking off items on her digital to-do list. The rest were minor tasks, such as advising us to review the itinerary in our welcome bags in our room, talking to the groundskeeper about what he’d like to do with his damaged kayak, and informing the kitchen if we wanted breakfast in bed.
I blushed at that one. It was something I’d been avoiding, the idea of us sharing a bed. We hadn’t even properly made out, much less had sex, and yet here we were having an entire weekend together. Even Malia must have expected us to be getting it on.
But I truly had no clue what would happen.
Objectively, yes, I wanted to touch and be touched all over by the seemingly generous, confident (except when it came to Malia, apparently), and devastatingly handsome man standing next to me.
But would I do that without knowing what was really going on? There was definitely a mystery, and before we progressed any further, I had to solve it.
Colin’s hand reached for mine while Malia said, “That’s all for now. Now, go to your mother. I’ll have your bags taken to your room.”
We walked away, looked back to see Malia fiddling with her phone, and laughed together.
“Is she always so strict?” I asked, taking in the grand pool we were walking next to.
“It was worse when we were children. Three boys? You can imagine how many times I had to face a corner in the kitchen in time-out. Somehow, I was always the scapegoat for my brothers’ antics.
Stephen, my older brother and boy genius, could do no wrong.
And Landon, the youngest, was the little one, so if he did anything wrong, it’s because I must have put him up to it. ”
I giggled, imagining the six-foot-tall Colin as an eight-year-old, doing penance for his siblings.
“Did you ever try to rebel?”
“That came later. My teenage years. But I specifically remember one time that Malia set the curfew. My mother caught me coming in, and I’m not sure if she was aware what time Malia had told me to be home, but my mother promised not to rat me out.”
“Your mom didn’t mind you sneaking in late?” I asked incredulously.
“It wasn’t her job during the school year. That was the boarding school’s job. She likely wanted us to have a relaxed summer and not be the bad guy, so Malia it was.”
I couldn’t imagine my mom being so blasé about my sneaking around and not setting a curfew.
“Is that her?” I whispered, even though we were still outside. There was a red-headed woman sitting on a lounge chair in what I assumed was the sunroom from the wall of windows.
“Queen of the Gordons. You’ll see,” he said when I must have looked confused.
We entered the house through a pair of French doors that opened into a large living room with the tallest ceilings I’d ever seen in a house. Colin led me through a door on the right, which revealed the very room and woman we’d seen from outside.
“Hello, darling!” she said, sitting up straighter, if that was possible. I straightened my own shoulders.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, leaning down to give her a hug. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Katelynn Donovan. She also works for the agency.”
“Hello, Mrs. Gordon,” I said, extending a hand.
She took my hand in both of hers and shook it twice, saying, “Hello, Katelynn. I hope you enjoy your weekend here. Don’t let Colin leave you to go fishing tomorrow.”
He jumped in, “I’m not going fishing this weekend, and I’ll update Dad as soon as I see him.”
“Ooh, can I be there when you tell him?” she asked, her face lighting up.
“I’d rather tell him on my own,” Colin said, a hand on his mother’s shoulder. She reached over and patted it.
“I always get to miss out on all the fun. I have such horrible sciatica today; I doubt I’ll be able to walk around much this weekend. So much for dancing,” she said, waving a hand in the air.
“You’ll find a way to entertain yourself,” Colin said. He made his way back toward the doorway. An imaginary leash pulled me along after him.
“I always do,” she said. I noticed her wineglass on a small table next to her, more than half full. She reached for it and lifted it up as if making a toast.
When we were alone and wandering through the house, up the stairs and through the interminable hallway, I finally had the wherewithal to say, “I can’t tell if you get along with your family or not.”
We entered a bedroom that was at least the size of my entire apartment. I took it all in, the mahogany bedframe with matching chests and armoires. The bathroom door was open, and all I could see from that angle was a wall of marble.
“Sometimes I can’t tell either,” he said.
“Hmmm. That’s not really saying much.” I sat on the bed, sinking into the foam pillow-top.
“I don’t share much of my personal life with them, nor do they with me.
We meet for the odd holiday, special occasions, usually at least some time in the summer.
I speak to my father often, of course, for the business.
I’d say he and I get along, but that’s because I place him in the role of my boss rather than father during the workweek. ”
That’s so sad. I reflected on my own father and what I wouldn’t give to see him again. The last time I saw him, I’d given him a short hug goodbye as I’d left my parents’ house. It wasn’t worthy of the last hug I’d ever give him, but I hadn’t known it would be the last one.
I didn’t want to press him further on familial relationships. It was time to get down to business.
“Can I tell you something that has nothing to do with my family?” he asked, closing the door behind him and taking off his suit jacket.
Ding.
“Sure,” I said.
He loosened his tie.
Ding. Ding. (These were alarm bells going off in my head.)
“I’d like to say that I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I met you.”
Fire alarm now ringing in my ears.
“Is that right?” I managed to say through the heat that was rising within me.
“I haven’t thought of anything else since our kiss the other night,” he said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.
Four alarm fire!