“I’ll be down there in a few weeks for a visit. Until then, I have a lot of work to do.”
It was her turn to groan, and I knew exactly what that groan meant, too.
“Work, work, work,” she complained. “Don’t you ever want to make time for play?”
“Play doesn’t bring you income,” I said.
“But it brings you the important things. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down with someone? Maybe give me a few grandbabies. Or, heck, I’ll take a grand fur baby at this point. You can’t stay cooped up in your house and office all the time, Connor. You have to put yourself out there to experience real life.”
You know how I said Mom was almost always in my number-one spot? She only slipped a little when she’d scold me for not having a life outside of working.
I wasn’t built to be the family man. I decided that a long time ago when I chose to give myself to my work. I was only twenty-eight years old, but I had the income of an eighty-year-old man who’d worked his life to death. I’d spent the past decade of my life hustling hard to build my empire. With that gift, I had to let go of some other things, like relationships and family. I didn’t have the time for it. It would be selfish for me to bring a woman into my life and not give her my all. At least that was the bullshit reason I gave people. The truth of the matter was relationships terrified me. Giving someone your all to only have it taken away some day? No thank you. Not interested.
“I hear you, Mom.” I lied to get her to pull back on the topic.
“Don’t say that to get me to shut up, Connor Ethan. I mean it. Make time for the important stuff. After beating cancer twice, I know how much that important stuff means. Money isn’t everything.”
“But it’s enough,” I joked. “Really, Mom. I hear you. I’ll work on putting myself out there.”
“Liar.”
What could I say? She knew me well.
“Listen to your mother, Connor. What’s the point of having an empire if you have no one to pass it down to once your time comes to an end?”
“I already have charities lined up to give everything to, so we’re all set there.” She sighed, and I felt bad.
“Connor Ethan, don’t upset your mother. Promise me you’ll do at least one thing that isn’t work-related. You’ll find a hobby over the next few weeks.”
“Mom—”
“Promise me! On my life!”
I hated when she did that. I hated when she made me promise on her life because I knew I could never break that promise. After you’d watched your mother battle cancer twice, after you’ve shaved your head multiple times with her in a small bathroom with a cheap electric razor, you realized how important said mom’s life was.
I’d never make a promise on her life if I had no drive to keep that word. The desperation in her voice was almost too painful to bear. She worried about me being lonely.
I worried about that sometimes, too. To combat my loneliness, I stayed later at work some nights, spent hours in the gym, or played Call of Duty with people from around the world. You hadn’t lived a worthy life until a fifteen-year-old in Canada called you a fucking cock sucking little prick bitch after midnight.
I hoped they didn’t kiss their mothers with those filthy mouths.
“I promise,” I swore. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have called you.”
“Language, Connor,” she scolded.
I downed my whiskey. “Sorry, Mom.”
“I have to go, sweetie. Danny is picking me up for a late date.”
I sat up straighter in my chair. “Wait. Danny? Who’s Danny?!”
“Oh honey, I can’t talk now. I love you; we’ll talk soon! I’ll call you tomorrow. Kisses!” And with that, she hung up.
Who the hell was Danny?
Within seconds, I was shooting off a text to Jax down in Kentucky. Even though I’d moved to New York, he was one of my closest friends in the whole world. I knew he’d be able to help me figure out what was going on.
Connor: Who the hell is Danny?
Jax: Good to hear from you, too.
Connor: Sorry. Hi, Jax. How’s Kennedy? How are the kids? How’s the weather? Who the fuck is Danny?!
Jax: Language, Connor.
Connor: Yeah, yeah, yeah. My mom said she has a date with Danny. Who is this guy?
Jax: Unlike every other person in this small town, I stay out of other people’s business.
Connor: My mom can’t be out there dating jerks.
Jax: Danny isn’t a jerk.
Connor: So you do know him! Tell me everything. I’m gonna call you.
Jax: Don’t call me, Connor. I hate talking on the phone.
Connor: Even with your bestie?
Jax: You’re not my bestie.
Connor: Your sense of humor doesn’t come off as well as it should via text.
Jax: …Right.
Connor: Tell me one detail about this Danny guy and I’ll leave you alone.
Jax: Swear?
Connor: On my mother.
Jax: Fine. He’s a hardworking employee.
Connor: What?! This guy works for you?! What in the land of betrayal is that?!
Jax: Listen, it’s not my fault he met your mom when she brought some of her baked goods to me at a landscaping job. It just so happened Danny was there with me, and he liked her baked goods.
Connor: I hope to God you’re talking about her lemon bars and not her personal baked goods.
Jax: Definitely talking about her personal baked goods. It seems Danny’s really into her cinnabuns.
Connor: You think this is funny, but it’s not. Now you have to think about my sweet innocent mother having sexual relations with some random guy named Danny!
Jax: You want me to think about your mom having sex?
Connor: What? No. Stop. Don’t do that.
Jax: It’s too late. The images are already in my head.
Connor: I hope Kennedy divorces you.
Jax: Do you think sweet Rebecca is a top or bottom?
Connor: This conversation is over.
Jax: I wonder if she’s into role-playing.
Connor: Shut up.
Jax: It’s like those bad knock-knock jokes you’ve always told. Rebecca’s like knock-knock, and Danny asks who’s there, and bam! It’s her sitting on his face.
Connor: I hope you burn in hell.
Jax: I could use the tan. Night, kid.
After a conversation with Jax that only gave me more stress than I had before, I was left wondering how my sweet mother ended up getting tangled up with some dude named Danny.
8
Aaliyah
Nothing said anxiety like entering a room filled with complete strangers. If I were ever in those old Saw movies where I was put into a deadly situation that terrified me, it would’ve been me in a room surrounded by people I didn’t know. What were they thinking when they looked at me? What were their first impressions? Did they like me? Did I come off as weird?
Then, there was the fun habit that I had after said gathering, where I went home and overthought every conversation, wondering if someone took my words the wrong way, or if I said something idiotic. I’d only been standing around for about an hour, and my palms were already sweaty from the pressure of it all.
Why did an hour feel like ten when you were in a place you didn’t want to be?
“Say cheese!” a photographer remarked before flashing a camera in my eyes and hurrying off to his next victim. I blinked a few times to try to recover my sight and thought of his words.
Cheese.
Ugh.
What I wouldn’t have given to have some deep-fried, bad-for-my-hips-good-for-my-soul cheese in my mouth right at that moment. I daydreamed about cheese oozing out of a mozzarella stick as I placed a tiny slice of sweet potato into my mouth. It was topped with some weird smelly cheese, pecans, and cranberries. The waitress told me the green sprinkled on top was rosemary, but I was pretty sure it was grass.
Sweet potato crostini bites, s
he’d called them, but I knew I was actually just eating fancy trash.
I wasn’t a very fancy girl. Never had been, never would be. I never really needed more than some good wings and french fries. At least, that had been the case before my diagnosis. Alcohol had been completely cut out of my life ever since I was placed on the heart transplant list the previous summer, and it’d been two years since I had anything deep fried because of my condition. I’d been forced to give my whole life a complete makeover.
“Would you like another?” the waitress asked, and I cringed, making her hurry away with an annoyed sigh.
I didn’t mean to make a face. I simply hadn’t ever been one to have a solid poker face. All my true emotions and feelings shined through my eyes and the curves of my lips. If I was mad, annoyed, or disgusted, everyone around me could tell.
I wondered if I’d gotten that trait from my mother. I wondered if she was ever displeased with something, if her displeasure sat on the bridge of her nose as it wrinkled up. If she was happy, did her eyes shine in such a special way?
I shook the thought of her away before letting it settle in my heart. The last thing I wanted to do was make myself sad during an event meant to be a happy occasion. Therefore, heavy thoughts were strictly off-limits.
With a deep breath, I surveyed the room before me.
Over one hundred people had showed up to a dinner to celebrate my fiancé’s new position running Roe Real Estate West Coast. It was the first work event I’d been to with him, and I was terrified. I didn’t know a soul outside of Jason’s parents.
The dinner was extremely fancy. Or, more so, it was a gala. Everything was so over-the-top for truly no reason at all except Jason could afford it.
We could afford it.
Jason hated when I called it his money, but at the end of the day, it was his. He was the extremely successful businessman, and I was the junior editor his mother had met two years earlier then introduced to her son.
A whirlwind romance set up by Marie.
True, we’d only been dating for a year and a half, but it felt like longer.
“Cucumber bites?” a woman asked, shoving a tray in my face with literally just pieces of cucumber sprinkled with paprika.
My nose obviously wrinkled up. “No, I’m good.”
The problem with galas was the lack of food and the abundance of liquor. Everyone around me was drinking, except for me. But I was a big believer in using carbohydrates to soak up the alcohol sitting in my gut, and I was sure some of those individuals could’ve benefited from a bread bowl or two.
Cocktails and truffle fries.
Whiskey and pizza.
Beer and cheese fries.
Oh, my gosh…
Did I mention fries? What I wouldn’t have given for a big plate of french fries right then, but none of that was on the menu at The Lily that night. There was hardly any food to be found, just overpriced bite-sized appetizers.
Maybe that was how rich people stayed rich—they didn’t eat, so no need to spend money on food.
Two hands landed on my hips, and my body melted into the touch. I knew it was him before he even spoke. Jason always smelled like smoky rosewood dipped in sex appeal. I turned to face him, and my heart skipped a few beats when I found his frown, which in turn made me frown.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your hermit crab vibes are strong tonight,” he whispered, leaning into me. “People are talking, saying you seem uppity.”
“Sorry. My brain’s shutting down. I can’t survive on air.” I placed my hands against his chest and gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “Can we just ditch and find some real food?”
Before he could reply, a woman with a tray of some kind of raw meat walked over to us. “Would you like one?” she asked.
“Sure, after you cook it,” I replied.
Jason laughed, but it wasn’t his amused laughter. It was his annoyed laugh. He said no thank you to the person before turning back to me. “You’re so extreme, Aaliyah.”
He wasn’t wrong. At times, I could be dramatic. “Other than the lack of food, everything else is pretty great, yeah? The event turned out well. I’m so proud of you.”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, if only you’d actually talk to some people other than me.”
“I’ve talked to your parents all night long!”
“I think we both know that doesn’t count as putting yourself out there. Aaliyah…you have to talk to people.” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired. How could he not be? Lately, Jason’s default mode was tired. He’d been working nonstop for the past few months trying to get the real estate company running in Los Angeles. He was beyond stressed, and I wasn’t certain I’d fully understand the answer if I asked him what all his job entailed. All I knew was that he was always busy. Therefore, that meant early mornings and late nights. Early-bird flights and redeyes. Intensely brewed coffee and painfully strong whiskey.
I worried about him sometimes. I worried about the burnout all great businessmen experienced. Still, he always told me he was fine, even on the days it was clear he wasn’t.
Fun, free-spirited Jason hardly came out to play lately, and I was somewhat kicking myself for not latching on tighter when I felt it slipping away. When we had first started dating, he’d been so energized and full of life. Yet after we moved in together, it felt as if I was living with a stranger. He was short with me a lot but then he would apologize, saying it was due to his workload.
“You know how I feel about socializing,” I explained, fiddling with my fingers.
He nodded. “Yes, only with your friends.”
“Exactly. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe…”
“Aaliyah.” Jason stated my name as if I were a misbehaving child, and I nodded, knowing from the slight undertone in his voice that he was feeling pressure. “A lot of people who are important to me are here tonight, and I think it’s important for them to interact with the most important person in my life.”
“Okay, okay. I need ten minutes of fresh air. Then I’ll come back and be the perfect bride-to-be.”
“Sounds good.”
“Before I go, can you make me a promise?”
“Anything.”
“After we’re done here tonight, can we go get some real food? Maybe a place with a bread basket?”
He laughed his real laugh, and that made me happy. “Oh, Liyah.” His mouth grazed over mine before he moved his lips to my forehead, where he planted a kiss. His voice was low, full of a sweetness that didn’t exactly match the words he spoke. “You know you shouldn’t be eating carbohydrates.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, stunned by his comment.
“God, don’t do that,” he groaned.
“Don’t do what?”
“Get all emotional.”
“What are you talking about? You said that weird thing about me eating and—”
“Not now, Aaliyah,” he whispered with sternness to his tone. “I’m not going to have one of our pointless arguments at my event. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Don’t ruin it with your emotions.”
“I’m just saying…that was a rude comment.”
“Rude or honest? I mentioned the other day that your ass looked fat in your dress.”
I frowned, feeling extremely self-conscious. I thought that was a compliment.
The smell of liquor fell from every exhalation he had. I loved Jason, but I didn’t like the man he was when he drank. Some nights I wondered if I even knew who he had really been. I wondered if the alcohol made him speak his truths, or transition into someone who only spoke lies. I stared at him as if he were a complete stranger. I’d been noticing his belittling behavior more and more the past few weeks.
Over the past six weeks, I crawled into bed with a stranger. We’d been together for over a year, yet it was only six weeks ago that we moved in with one another. Our love story began with rainbows and butterflies. I was obsessed with Jason Rollsfield, and he was
obsessed with me. That was until I gave up my apartment and moved in with him. After the move, it was as if my Prince Charming had turned into the Beast.
Everything I did annoyed him. Every time he belittled me, he’d flip it around and say I’d somehow taken his words out of context. He didn’t hug me as often; he didn’t caress me as he had before. Each day that passed, I felt more of a disconnect and it worried me to my core.
He drank more than he ever told me he did. He stayed out later than he’d ever mentioned before we moved in with one another. His mother told me he was overwhelmed with his new work commitments and the upcoming move to California, which I understood. I’d only wished he would’ve told me if he felt that way—not his mother.
Before I could reply to his rude comments, he looked past me. “You haven’t met my business partner yet. Connor, come here,” Jason said, waving someone over.
I looked up to see who he was calling out to, and my heart skipped before crashing to a full-blown stop as I met the bluest eyes I’d ever witnessed in my life.
Captain America.
In a suit.
My breaths evaporated the second our eyes locked. For a moment, I thought his eyes widened with realization, too, but when he blinked, it disappeared. His gaze softened, and he extended his hand toward me.
“Hi, Aaliyah, is it? I’m Connor. Nice to meet you.”
My chest ached as our hands shook one another. His eyes were still as blue as I remembered, yet his smile seemed a little more broken than it had been in the past.
I parted my lips to speak, but at first, no sounds came out…not until Jason awkwardly cleared his throat and nudged me.
I pushed out a smile. “Hi, yeah. It’s nice to meet you, Connor.”
Connor.
I loved that name a lot—even if it wasn’t Steve Rogers.
He looked like a Connor. Sweet, gentle, kind.
Jason downed his drink and gestured toward Connor. “It’s because of this guy that we’re off to California in a few weeks. Can you believe it? Me running my own real estate company.”
Eastern Lights Page 10
