The Hating Season

by Linde, K. A.

  Lark snorted derisively. “He thinks that counseling will fix what he did?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, Lark. On one hand, I know it doesn’t fix anything. My dad is proof of that. But on the other hand…”

  “You were together for five years.”

  “Yes. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t even want to see him.” A small smile crossed my lips. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing him grovel.”

  Lark howled with laughter. “I love you, Anna English.”

  I waved my hand at her. “So, I just have to get through November and then this divorce. I’ve been doing some extra work for Winnie here in New York.”

  “You have?”

  “When her clients are in town or they have a breakdown, I’ll go and handle it. It might be nice to have a permanent person here to do that for Poise. I could take on a few more clients. Figure it out.”

  “Or… you could start your own agency,” Lark suggested.

  I laughed. “Do you know how hard it is to start your own PR firm in New York City? Without an established name?”

  “But you do have an established name.”

  “Not in New York. Just in LA. And still, I’ve had Poise behind me the whole time.” I shook my head. “That’s like a long-term, twenty-years-from-now goal. Not anytime soon.”

  “Just throwing it out there,” Lark said.

  “Anyway, you haven’t told me how the Hamptons went last weekend.”

  Lark cringed. “Well, it was interesting. Natalie and Katherine came to a truce, but I think they still want to claw each other’s faces off. It’s weird to me that Penn just came home, married, without telling all of us.”

  “Yeah. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

  “Me either. We’ve known each other our whole lives.” She shrugged. “Not that I could have gone to the ceremony or anything with the campaign. But it’s crazy. And now, Leslie is throwing a reception for them. You’re coming next weekend, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I told her. “I got the invitation yesterday actually.”

  “A bit of short notice. But it’s mostly for locals anyway,” Lark said. “Well, it’s mostly for Leslie. I doubt Penn and Natalie had much say in the matter.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Now that I think about it, I don’t blame them for eloping. If I were marrying a Kensington, I’d want to elope, too.”

  I snorted. “Was there any fear of you marrying a Kensington?”

  Lark shrugged and took another sip of her water. “Like, in high school maybe. But… probably not. That was a different Lark.”

  “Bad Lark,” I said with a wink.

  “Exactly. Anyway, I heard that your Labor Day was about as fun as mine.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked softly. Because… my Labor Day weekend had been a hell of a lot better than dealing with friendship drama. Until it had all hit a wall, going seventy miles per hour.

  “Robert said that you went to his party with Court.”

  “Ah. Yeah, I did. Everyone else was gone. We were celebrating.”

  Lark leaned on her elbow. “That must have been awkward, considering he’s your client.”

  I swallowed and glanced down at my half-eaten pad thai. “Yeah, well, he’s Court.”

  “Well, he probably found some easy ass and ditched you anyway,” Lark said with a wave of her hand. “His MO.”

  “Is it?” I asked carefully. “Is that the kind of guy he is?”

  “Pretty much. Why? You’ve been working with him since May. Shouldn’t you know?”

  “I don’t know. He just told me that he’d never cheated on Jane.”

  Lark laughed, and then it slowly evaporated when she saw I was serious. “Really? I didn’t think he had that in him.”

  “Was he always sleeping around before Jane?”

  “Yeah. For sure. He’s not, like… a bad guy or anything. It’s easy for him to attract women. They flock to Kensington men.”

  “Or just men with money.”

  Lark pointed her fork at me. “That, too.”

  “I just thought he was a playboy. Everything that I’d read about him when I did research for this job showed me to expect him to act just like any of my other rock star or movie star clients.”

  “But presumably… he hasn’t?” Lark guessed.

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Well, that’s good for you at least. You don’t have to deal with his attitude as well as kicking women out of his bed.”

  I flinched at the phrasing. “You’re right. It’s just surprising.”

  “Those Kensington men are full of surprises. That’s for sure.” Lark pushed her bowl away. “Okay, I have to get back to work. So much left to do.”

  “Of course. I’m glad we got this lunch. Even if it was quick.” I stood and pulled her in for a hug. “What are you wearing for the reception? I think we need to go shopping.”

  Lark cringed. “Ugh! I already promised my mother that I’d go shopping with her. You could come along.”

  “God forbid I interfere with your mother-daughter bonding.”

  “Stop,” Lark said, making a face. “I can’t.”

  “Hey, it’s good for you. I’ll find a dress on my own.”

  “Good luck. Wish we were going together,” Lark said before waving good-bye and drifting out of the restaurant.

  I was thinking about where exactly to go to find a dress for the reception when a text came in. I bit my lip, hoping it wasn’t Josh begging to go to counseling again. I could only handle so much. But I was surprised that it was from Taylor.

  Hey! It’s been a while since we met up. I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you want to do lunch or something?

  My eyes narrowed. What was the catch?

  Since when do you want to meet for lunch?

  Since now? I shouldn’t have brushed you off like I did last time. It’s hard, being far from home without anyone.

  That sentiment at least I could understand. She was lonely. Or homesick. I was feeling a little homesick, too. And what would it hurt to give Taylor another chance?

  All right. I’m free tomorrow. Where should we meet?

  * * *

  Taylor insisted on meeting at this edible cookie dough shop in SoHo that all of her friends raved about. I bought us both a scoop. Mine standard chocolate chip and hers loaded down with sugar cookies, vanilla icing, graham crackers, and sprinkles. We left the shop behind with our treats and headed east toward the nearby shops.

  “This is amazing,” Taylor said. “Why don’t we have this in LA?”

  “We probably do.”

  “Yeah, but not in the Valley.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  Taylor seemed subdued today compared to the first day of classes. She’d been trying too hard. Unsurprisingly, since she was a freshman. And already, she’d come into her own. She wore a plain white T-shirt under overalls and black statement Dr. Martens. Her black-to-blue-tipped hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head. She sported little makeup and seemed to have this energy about her. As if she couldn’t stand still. She had to keep moving, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  “You seem to be doing well. How are classes?” I asked.

  She grinned up at me. “Pretty amazing. My poetry seminar is life-changing.”

  “Good. It sounds like you’re in the right place then.”

  “I feel like it,” she admitted.

  “But you also feel homesick?”

  She glanced up at me in surprise.

  I just laughed. “Yeah. I get homesick, too. I love New York, but it’s not California.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?”

  “No one ever understands how much I love California. It’s in my blood.”

  Taylor nodded aggressively. “It really is.”

  “When do you get to go back?”

  “Ugh! Not until Thanksgiving. Dad wouldn’t buy me a ticket when I called him. He just told me to go hang out with you.”
She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I figured he’d talked you into it.”

  “I’m glad that we’re doing it though.”

  “Me too,” I said a bit suspiciously.

  I felt like she wanted something. I’d sidled up to people in college to get what I wanted by being extra appreciative. But maybe it was my own bias. Taylor and I had nothing in common, except our father and his blue eyes.

  After a few minutes of awkward silence, we tossed our finished cookie dough and headed into a boutique Taylor had suggested. It was all artsy madness inside. Not my style at all. But Taylor lit up.

  “Bea talks about this place all the time,” she gushed.

  “And Bea is the friend who suggested the cookie dough?”

  She nodded emphatically. “She’s the best. Her parents used to bring her to New York a couple times a year. They live in Boston. She knows all the good places to shop.”

  Taylor reverently touched a long purple printed dress, carefully checking the price tag before hastily dropping it and moving on. I looked at the price. As expected, it was more than I’d ever paid for clothes before working at Poise. It had sucked, being at UCLA and Columbia without any money. Earning my place with scholarships and student loans and the force of my personality. I knew the feeling well.

  “Why don’t you try this on?”

  Taylor shook her head. “Can’t get my hopes up.”

  I took it off the rack and handed it to her. “Try it on.”

  She bit her lip. Her hands shook a little as she took it from me. “Okay.”

  Her hand grazed a leather jacket as she headed to the dressing room. I picked it up, checked the price tag with a shrug, and brought it with me.

  Taylor came out a minute later, looking like a vision in the dress. It was something I’d never wear, but it looked great on her.

  I passed her the jacket. Her eyes rounded.

  “I’ll literally die if I fall in love with that jacket,” she said. Her fingers twitched as she reached for it, and then she pulled her hand back.

  “Just try it on, Tay.”

  Taylor slung the jacket around her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror. “Wow. It’s perfect.”

  And it was. Edgy and fantastic with moto sleeves, spiked metal details, and perfect slashes across the material. It completed her outfit.

  She shucked it off and passed it back to me without a word and changed, leaving the dress in the room.

  “Next shop?” she asked wistfully.

  I shook my head. Taylor and I were fresh. We were new. Trust was just forming. Our relationship like a baby bird trying to fly. I had money. And after the divorce was final, I’d have a lot of money. I could do this. Put her trust in my hands and see if we could fly together.

  “I’m going to get them for you.”

  “What?” Taylor asked, her eyes slightly bloodshot and rounded. “Anna, you can’t!”

  “Sure I can. I’m your sister.”

  “Yeah… but…”

  I waved her off and brought the dress and jacket to the counter. After I paid for them, I passed the black bag to her to carry.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You know, I’m sorry… about how I’ve always acted. I didn’t know you… I just… assumed you were different than this.”

  “It’s okay. I know all about that.”

  The words struck a chord. How was this any different than how I’d treated Court? If I could build a new relationship with my sister after all this time, maybe I could repair what I’d done with Court, too.

  18

  Court

  Work wasn’t as abysmal as I’d thought it would be.

  Everyone eased me back into it. No one expected me to try to take over the CEO position tomorrow. My office on the top floor was entirely ceremonial. I was pretty sure that I was doing basic work. And oddly enough finding that I enjoyed it.

  Even if I hated the office and the desk and rug… and literally everything, except the library. I’d brought in a stack of books from home and replaced a group of legal books. It didn’t have the same uniform effect, but it felt like the only part of the room that was really me. So, I didn’t care.

  Perhaps someone would question why Pawn of Prophecy, The Eye of the World, and Mistborn were next to an encyclopedia and accounting books. But oh well.

  A knock sounded at my door. That had been happening constantly since I started working here. Not because anyone had anything really for me to do or anything to say, but just to “check up” on me. Whatever that meant. It was getting annoying.

  “Come in,” I ground out, pushing away from that stupid desk.

  The door creaked open, and Sam peeked his head in. “Hey, man.”

  I smiled. Well, this was better than another bullshit person interrupting to “help.”

  “Sam, come in. Shut the door behind you to keep out the vultures.”

  He laughed. “That bad?”

  “You have no idea. Everyone is waiting for me to fail. Or to bail.”

  “But you’re not going to, right?” he asked, sinking into a seat in front of my enormous desk.

  “Would I have set up the huge publicity stunt around this if I intended to leave?”

  Sam shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so.” His gaze shifted around the office, taking in the entire ostentatious thing. “This place is huge. It makes my office look like it’s for kids.”

  “You’re welcome to it.”

  “You don’t like having the big office in the sky?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “If they’re going to make me do introductory work, wouldn’t it make more sense to have me somewhere else?”

  “But you said it yourself, it was a publicity stunt. Of course they wanted you in this swank office.”

  “Yeah… it’s just my father’s desk,” I muttered.

  “That’s sentimental. I’m sure he would have wanted you to have it.”

  I frowned. “I doubt it.”

  Sometimes, I forgot that Sam was new to our group of friends. He fit in so seamlessly that it surprised me when he didn’t know me as well as Camden. That he hadn’t been there the night my father died. Or what had happened afterward.

  “I’m sure he’d be proud of you,” Sam insisted.

  “He wasn’t proud of either of his children a day in his life,” I told him.

  Sam sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what your relationship was like.”

  “It’s in the past,” I said dismissively. “I don’t like to think about it.”

  “I’m sure. Must have been traumatic.”

  I met Sam’s searching gaze.

  “Are you doing okay otherwise? You seem jittery.”

  Jittery. Sure, that was the way to describe it. Mostly, I felt like a fucking idiot. And as much as I didn’t like to think about my dad, I didn’t want to think about English. Just like everyone else, she hadn’t wanted to see me as anything more than what was on the surface.

  For a minute, I thought about telling Sam. Confessing to the entire thing. It would probably feel good to get it off my chest. I was only keeping it a secret because I didn’t want English to get fired. Despite everything, I knew her job was important to her. She was damn good at it. And she shouldn’t lose it just because we’d fucked a night or two. Especially since it clearly meant nothing to her.

  But I couldn’t tell Sam. I’d always been careful who I showed my entire self to. I was over being judged for who I was. Only Camden really held no judgments against me. Whether from mutual trust or he just had darker tastes than me… it didn’t matter. Sam was too new. And he lived with Lark. I didn’t want it to get back to her. Not unless English wanted to tell her.

  “I’m fine,” I finally muttered. “Just drained from all of this and Jane.”

  Sam nodded sympathetically. “That makes sense. Well, the poker game tonight should cheer you up.”

  “Me?” I asked, side-eyeing him. “You’re the one who fucking cleans the table
now. It’s not even a fair game. I swear you count cards or some bullshit.”

  Sam laughed and crossed his arms. “I’ll never reveal my secrets.”

  “Whatever. Get back to work, you lazy lawyer.”

  “Ass,” Sam said with a chuckle as he stood from his seat.

  “I’m not spotting you another ten grand.”

  Sam grinned devilishly. “You might ask me to spot you tonight—after I wipe you out.”

  “I’ve created a monster.”

  “See you tonight,” Sam said with a deep laugh before exiting.

  Yeah. Tonight.

  Sounded like therapy.

  * * *

  I showed up at Camden’s early. Well, before Gavin or Sam were there. I’d decided that I needed to talk to him about English. At least he wouldn’t judge me for it.

  I strode into the living room before I realized my mistake. Katherine’s voice was loud and angry.

  “When are you going to get it through your thick skull, I have no interest in Penn Kensington?” she spat. “He’s married.”

  “So are you. Doesn’t stop you.”

  “You know what, Camden? Just when I think there is something human underneath your skin, you prove me wrong,” she seethed. “Time and time again.”

  “That’s right, Katherine. There is nothing human underneath my skin. This is the man you married. You knew what you were doing when you signed on that dotted line.”

  Katherine must have said something low that I couldn’t hear, and then she stormed out of the back room. When she saw me, she just sneered.

  “He’s all yours.”

  “Always a pleasure, Katherine.”

  “Fuck off, Kensington,” she snapped and then strode right into the elevator.

  What the hell was that all about? Did I even want to know?

  I stepped into Camden’s game room. I found him dressed in a three-piece suit and seated in a brother leather chair. He smoked a cigar and stared off darkly. He looked like every quintessential rich bastard who had ever shown up in film.