Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Kyle rubbed his temples as he stared at his mother’s passive-aggressive text.
Oh, honey, you’re so funny, sending a thumbs-up emoji.
Then I realized I hadn’t told you when we’re coming.
Your father laughed with me, saying we didn’t need to be specific.
You manage the restaurant, after all. You’ll make sure we’re taken care of, won’t you?
I’ll let you know when we arrive, because you know your father.
He’ll be with James on the golf course one minute, and suddenly we’ll be packing and flying off to Paris. I do so love that man. See you soon.
Your Mother
P.S. Ivey can’t wait to see you again.
He had the sudden urge to print out the text so he could ball it up in his hands like a baseball and toss it in the trash.
But that wasn’t going to do any good. Apparently, they were coming after all, and they were counting on him wining and dining them like he’d done at all of his other restaurants—where they’d shown up after the praise got rolling, he now remembered.
They had a pattern, one he’d enabled. They expected him to tap his magic top hat with his magic wand and, poof, find them a five-top reservation at the hottest restaurant on the planet.
He sent back a text after careful thought.
Hey Mom, I’m glad you and Father had a good laugh. The truth is, we’re booked solid for the next year. How about Paris next spring? I can arrange for a private tour of the best museums then, and get you tickets to a Paris Fashion Week.
Her reply text was immediate.
You’ll figure something out. You always do. We’re your parents. We want to see what you’ve done with this restaurant that everyone’s raving about. I mean, that William Silver review. Our friend Biff Jensen said it’s like winning a culinary Oscar. We’ll see you in a couple weeks.
Clenching his fists, he prowled around in his office. There was no escaping what was happening. They were coming. Despite what he’d said. Just like always.
He hid it well behind an easy smile, but there were aspects of life that bugged him, just like everyone else. His parents’ complete disregard of his boundaries was at the top of the list. Being back on the proverbial playground of his childhood—as an adult—was infuriating.
Hell, he was going to have to tell them no to their faces. Backtalk, as his parents called it. But he didn’t see another way. Sawyer had just gone through this with his parents, and he’d been there afterward to pick up the pieces.
He’d told Sawyer he didn’t have to placate his parents.
Now he needed to follow his own advice. He sat down and picked up his phone. Why was he finding this so difficult? He didn’t want to have a relationship with his parents. He never wanted Madison to meet them.
So why couldn’t he say no?
An image of his dad undoing his belt came to mind, and he realized the reason.
It was because he’d been whipped for “disobedience,” sometimes until he’d had welts on his behind.
His heart started throbbing. Punishment was the reason, the fear of it still looming large in his mind.
Well, fuck that.
He started texting.
Like I said, two weeks won’t work. I won’t be able to accommodate you.
You should also know I’ve met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, so I’m not interested in being set up.
Another item you might have forgotten is that you and Father have never wanted to come to Paris. I don’t think you’ll enjoy it.
Should he mention Madison’s name? He twisted in his chair. No, it didn’t matter whom he’d met. Besides, he still wanted to protect her.
At the same time, he didn’t want to be a complete dick and end the message like that. Wasn’t he basically ending their relationship?
After a moment, he added the kindest sentiment he could muster:
Have fun with your friends. Best, Kyle
That was it—that was all he could say. After being born to them and living with them for eighteen years. God, it was almost depressing.
Except it felt freeing too. He didn’t have to deal with the weight of their expectations anymore.
Yeah, he’d lean into that.
He turned back to the positive—his work, one he loved. His offer for the property in the First Arrondissement had been accepted. His new restaurant with Chef Marcel was officially a go.
His work plans were progressing, and with a smile on his face, he decided to take a peek at a major item in his Operation Madison planning.
He left his office and walked over to the new dance space in the house, situated in the former second salon, wanting to surround himself with thoughts of him and Madison.
The contractor had finished installing the sound system, lights, and bar.
Thankfully, she didn’t spend time in that part of the house, so she hadn’t suspected anything.
Brooke had arrived with the items they’d agreed upon yesterday, and the space looked like something straight out of Little Havana.
He couldn’t wait to unveil it with her.
But since he wanted to see a friend—and he couldn’t bother his best one at work—he decided to seek Sawyer out.
Sawyer, he knew, would understand, having just gone through something similar.
Doc answered his knock with a mumble, blue paint brushed across his chin like he’d put his hand to his mouth in thought. He wore a white smock that looked like a Jackson Pollock exhibition and held his paintbrush and a palette with dark blue and white paint on it. “What?”
He coughed out a laugh. “You’re sounding more like Madison when you work. I thought I’d swing by to say hi.” He paused before adding, “I think I just ended the relationship with my parents.”
His friend’s entire frame straightened, his paintbrush sliding across the palette in a streak of white. “Well…that’s monumental. Come in.”
“You weren’t going to let me come in before I told you that, were you?
” he joked, strolling into the atelier he’d created with Sawyer in mind.
“By the way, I figured out a way to give you a private entrance to your studio so you don’t have to walk through the house.
It’s actually building off an idea Axel had for the restaurant.
I know how much you love it here. I don’t want you to have to go. ”
Because he was family…
Sawyer was putting the palette down on another messy work desk and grabbing a well-worn paint rag to clean his hands. “You can tell me about that later. Let’s talk about your parents. What happened?”
“I decided to follow my own advice.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and ambled around the room. “The one I gave you about your parents not too long ago…”
With the light streaming in through the skylights and the blue sky of Paris above, he walked his friend through the events and the texts and the relief he was now feeling.
“Am I wrong to feel so good?” he finally asked, holding his friend’s thoughtful gaze.
Sawyer sighed. “Phoebe and I have talked about this subject from every angle, as she’s been going through the same thing with her mother.”
“Except her mother tried to ruin her dreams,” Kyle observed. “Mine were more like your parents, your mother especially. They thought they were entitled to enjoy my fame.”
Sawyer pushed his gold spectacles up his nose.
“Standing up for our right to choose how we want to live our lives and who we want to live them with is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. I realized I’d always been attracted to the Age of Enlightenment because one of its tenets is about using reason and respecting choice. ”
Leave it to Doc to bring the conversation back to philosophy. “So what quote has best helped you in all of this searching?”
Sawyer’s mouth tipped to the right. “It’s from a psychiatrist, of course. The greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of its parents. Carl Jung.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets as he recalled all the parties his mother threw.
She was always seeking acclaim and attention; likewise, his father wanted to be respected and accepted as one of the guys.
His parents shared a desire to be with the in-crowd.
Was he now doing something they wished they had?
Or was it that he’d reached a higher level of success than they ever had, and now they wanted to grab some of it for themselves?
Perhaps they saw it as their due as his parents.
God, he didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t need to understand.
He nodded, still lost in thought, then said, “Both of my parents have always craved attention. Maybe that’s the thread that keeps them together. I’ve never thought it was love. Theirs was some kind of pact about maintaining a certain status and lifestyle.”
As he finished, he realized his voice had gone cold.
That’s the way they made him feel: cold and undernourished.
Maybe that’s why he’d wanted to work on hotels and restaurants.
He’d liked creating places where people could feel welcome and enjoy themselves while feeding a deep human need, one of eating.
He worked with people who made an art form out of it. Madison came to mind, and he smiled.
Sawyer walked over until he was standing in front of him, a soft smile on his face.
“We can speculate on what that part of an unlived life is for them, but can we ever truly know? I suppose it comes down to the individual in question having a sense of self and loving it. Had my mother loved herself, could she then love me? Who was made supposedly in her image, to her mind?”
He blew out a breath. “Deep thoughts like usual, Doc. Thanks for sharing them. There aren’t too many people you can talk to about something like this.
I suppose I wanted to make sense of it so I could move past it.
I don’t like to let bad feelings linger.
There are too many good things in life to enjoy.
You and all our friends are top of the list.”
“Madison as well, I imagine.” He gestured to a blank canvas in the corner.
“She’s taking shape slowly for me, but once I understand her better, I’m going to get moving.
Seeing you together at Brooke and Axel’s for Sunday dinner helped inspire me.
You’re right. When she looks at you, love shines through her gold eyes.
I finally captured the colors. They turn from a platinum gold—her usual cool and collected regard—to a beautiful, light warm gold. ”
His throat thickened. “Doc, you have a gift. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you aren’t a master. I can’t wait to see how you capture her.”
“We’re beginning soon.” He turned to the canvas again. “Feel better?”
“Yeah, I do.” In fact, he could feel happiness spreading inside him as a smile formed on his face. “Talking with friends and about the woman I love has a positive effect on me. Thanks.”
“Good.” He picked up his palette. “Now, I’d like to paint the outline of her if you don’t mind. Our conversation inspired me.”
He was already headed toward the door. “Have fun.”
“Oh, we will,” Sawyer only called.
Kyle worked in peace for the rest of the day. When Madison arrived home, he drew a bath for them, and they enjoyed it while having their usual ice cream.
Later, as she lay against his chest, he finally told her about his texts with his mother, everything from his insistence that they could not have a table to his outright rejection of her matchmaking attempts and revelation that he was involved with someone.
She looked relieved.
“How do you feel?” she asked, turning in his arms and gazing seriously into his eyes.
“Good,” he told her with a smile. “Doc and I had a pretty serious discussion about parents and children.”
“Any conclusions?”
That she didn’t joke or make light of things had him running his hands up her spine. “Some, but the most important one is that I’m glad I finally did what I did. It was time.”
They left it at that.
She knew he was still processing. Besides, neither of them liked to focus on anything negative.
After they made love and he tucked her against him as she drifted off to sleep, he realized the real reason why he wasn’t as upset as one might expect.
He had his family—here in Paris.
And Madison held one of the biggest spots in his heart. She was the person he wanted to wake up with and go to sleep with and everything in between.