by K. A. Linde
Still, shots appeared before me a minute later. I had no idea what I’d ordered, but the liquid was clear. Probably a good sign.
The girls each grabbed one from the bar and held it aloft.
“To English!” Lark cried.
“To freedom!” Whitley added over top of it.
Then we tossed the shots back and dropped them back on the bar.
“I’m so fucking happy for you,” I told English. “You and Court and your little kitten.”
“Trouble is the most adorable thing in the world,” English confirmed, swaying on her feet. We had pretty high tolerances, but tonight was above and beyond.
Whitley giggled and tipped her head back. “There are so many fucking hot women here tonight.”
“How fucked up are you?” Lark asked with a laugh.
“Drunk enough to take one into the bathroom,” Whitley said with a giggle. Then she leaned forward and put her finger to her mouth. “Shh… don’t tell Robert.”
I snorted. “You wouldn’t do that to Robert.”
She winked at me. “You’re right. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“But if you were single…”
She sighed as her eyes scanned the crowd. “If only I were single.”
“Like when you slept with Gavin,” English chimed in, slurring her words together until it sounded like slepwifGavn.
“I am not wasted enough for this conversation,” Whitley said, teetering in her heels.
“Here you go.” Lark plopped a drink into her hand. She passed out the others she’d ordered. “Now, you can tell us about it.”
“How do you even know?”
“Besides the fact that you were all over each other?” English asked.
“The guys told us,” I let Whitley know.
Her jaw dropped slightly. “How do they know?”
“Poker night. Gavin told them,” Lark confirmed. “Sam told me when he got home.”
“Bastard!” Whitley chimed in.
“So, how was it?” I prodded.
Whitley flushed even more than she already had been, standing sloshed on a rooftop in Manhattan. “He was good.”
“Good?” I asked incredulously. “Whitley, the slayer of men and women alike. Whitley, the storyteller. You have to give us more than good.”
She rolled her eyes. “He was good. I don’t know what you want me to say. I shouldn’t even be talking about it. I’m dating his friend.”
“We haven’t seen Sir Robert in a while,” English said sloppily.
“Sir Robert?” I asked, looking at Lark.
She shrugged and mouthed the word, Wasted, to me.
“He’s trying not to be clingy. He’ll be at the Fashion Week gala with me though.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered.
“What?” Whitley asked. “You got something to say, Van Pelt?”
“Robert’s fine. I like him. He’s a nice guy. But I always thought you’d want something a little more…” I trailed off.
“More what?” Whitley asked.
“Flashy,” Lark finished.
“Robert is flashy.”
Lark and I exchanged another look.
Whitley huffed. “Whatever, y’all,” she said, her Southern accent coming out thick in her inebriated state.
“What about you and Camden?” Lark butted in.
“What about us?”
“Are we going to have a baby Percy soon?”
English’s eyes went round as saucers. “Are you pregnant?” She snatched the drink straight out of my hand.
I couldn’t stop my laugh. “I’m not pregnant, English! Would I be drinking if I were?”
“Oh, right,” she said, offering the drink to me.
I shook my head and let her keep it.
“We’re… we’re talking about it.”
I told them how we’d started trying as we all swayed to the motion of the club. The night was almost over, and I was surprised that I’d made it this long without this conversation.
“Yay!” Lark cried.
English danced in a circle. “You’re going to have a baby.”
“I talked to Whitley, and she helped me see that I had been having panic attacks for nothing.”
Whitley breathed a sigh of relief. “Not talking about it has been killing me. Did you take my advice and go home and fuck him?”
I laughed. “I did. I still have the prescription you wrote.”
Whitley told the other girls in on what she’d prescribed, and they all went up in an uproar.
“And you want this, right?” Lark said. “You and Camden?”
I nodded, a real smile coming to my face. “I think… we’re finally in the right place. So, we’ll see what happens.”
Lark cleared her throat and tipped her head toward the entrance. “Looks like someone didn’t get the message about girls’ night.”
I whipped around and found none other than Camden Percy standing at the front. He’d changed out of the jeans he wore earlier, and he was looking through the crowd as if waiting to find me. A shiver ran down my spine in anticipation.
But then I bit my lip. “Should I tell him to go?”
English rolled her eyes. “Go fuck that husband of yours.” She pushed me toward him.
“You’re all sure?”
“Go!” Lark and Whitley said together.
“I love you, bitches,” I cried.
Then I stumbled through the crowd until I came to a halt just outside of the line of people. Camden’s eyes snapped to mine. I was sure that I looked like an intoxicated fool, but just the sight of him set a trail of fire down my spine.
“Hey,” I said, stepping toward him. “Thought you were going out for a drink.”
“I closed down the bar, darling,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Then I came to find you.”
“I thought I was supposed to find you.”
“I’m impatient.” He pulled me in for a hard kiss.
“Then let’s go.”
He gestured for me to precede him. My heel caught on absolutely nothing, and I almost went tumbling face-first into the doorway. Camden was there right away, catching me and keeping me from falling.
“You’re obliterated,” he said with humor in his voice.
“I don’t know the last time I was this drunk,” I said as he helped me to the elevator. Once inside, I leaned back against it. My head was spinning. “Maybe not since… ever.”
Now that I was out of the pounding of the club, I felt weak and dizzy and totally fucked up. I’d thought it was only Whitley and English who were that drunk. Lark and I were practically professionals. But here and now, I couldn’t even think straight.
“How much did you have to eat before this?” Camden asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t remember. Had I eaten dinner? Or lunch? I’d definitely had something to eat. A lettuce wrap of some sort. “Um…”
The elevator dinged open to our penthouse. Our penthouse.
“Come on. Let me make you some food. You’re going to be hungover as shit tomorrow.”
“I’m not hungry,” I told him as my stomach grumbled slightly.
He arched an eyebrow and waited.
“Fine,” I muttered and followed him into the kitchen.
He sat me down at the kitchen bar and rummaged through the refrigerator. He plopped down a large glass of water. “Drink that.”
Then he went back to work. My eyes could barely process what I was seeing as I sipped on the water he’d given me. Camden Percy was… cooking.
I blinked and blinked again. But, no, he was still there, cooking me eggs on the stovetop. I’d never seen him cook before. I hadn’t thought that he even knew how. He usually went out for food or had a chef come in to cook dinners.
“You’re cooking,” I said.
“I do have some rudimentary life skills.”
I laughed. “I’ve never seen you cook.”
“It doesn’t happen very often.”
“Jea
ns and cooking, all in one day. Be careful, Camden, or someone might think that you’re normal.”
His eyes slid to me. “No one would ever think that.”
And he was right. How could they? Not when he was back in his Tom Ford suit with dark eyes that knew all and a sternness born of deep emotional trauma in his formative years. Camden Percy was power and dominance.
And he was cooking me scrambled eggs. A duality.
He set a plate with eggs and toast in front of me and then one for himself. Then he took the chair next to mine and sat down.
“You’re going to eat with me?” I asked, incredulous.
“I’m a bit drunk myself,” he admitted.
Not that I could see it on him. Not even a little.
“Eat,” he commanded.
And so… I ate.
Even the toast. I didn’t usually bother with refined carbs, but I clearly needed some sustenance to soak up all the alcohol in my system. By the end of the meal, I was feeling almost human again.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome. It’s good to see you eating bread again.”
He collected the empty plates, washed them off, and put them in the dishwasher. Then he leaned against the counter to stare up at me.
“You’re not sick again, are you?” he asked softly, gently.
I stilled under his look. Then I slowly shook my head. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He sighed. “Okay. I just… you keep losing weight. And don’t get me wrong, you look fucking gorgeous, but I don’t want to neglect your past problems.”
“It’s not like before,” I assured him. “I promise.”
“You’d tell me if it was?”
I bit my lip and then nodded.
“Okay.”
Then he stepped around and held his hand out to me. I took it and unsteadily stood on my heels. He shook his head at me before removing each of my heels, one at a time. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me up the flight of stairs as if I weighed nothing at all, and set me down on my side of the bed. My side. Then he untied the bow at the back of my shirt and dropped the halter to the ground. He found the zipper on my skirt and let it follow.
My core heated at his movements, even as I fought the alcohol in my system. But he didn’t push me to have sex. He didn’t even have the heat in his eyes that I was used to. He just tugged the covers back and eased me under them.
“Camden?”
“Shh,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Let me take care of you.”
He pulled the covers over my shoulders. Then he slipped into the bed from the other side, cradling me against him.
“I thought you’d want to have sex,” I whispered into the silence of the darkened room.
“I do.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “But my job is to take care of you first and myself second.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” he assured me. “Now, get some rest. If you’re lucky, I’ll fuck you in the morning.”
I shivered at the words and sank back against him, releasing the final bits of tension in my body. It felt great, having him pressed up against me, his body cocooning me as I drifted off.
“Katherine,” he breathed, placing another kiss at my shoulder.
“Mmm?”
“I love you. You know I love you, right?”
I turned over to look into those bottomless, dark eyes. And there it was… that look that I hadn’t been able to explain for so long. It was… love. He loved me.
My heart expanded. And I nodded. “I love you, too.”
He drew me in close to him. “I love to hear you say that.”
“I love you,” I repeated. “You know what?”
He shook his head. “What, love?”
“This was my birthday wish.”
His smile was wide at the revelation. Then he kissed my full lips, and everything in the world felt inexplicably right.
30
Katherine
“Seriously, you cannot lose another pound between now and the gala on Saturday,” Alexandre complained.
“I didn’t!” I insisted. “My weight went up this week.”
And it had—by three pounds. I was sure that it was muscle, but it could have been the alcohol and bread. Or any number of things, stress included.
“Well, we have to take this in again. And if you lose anything else, you’re SOL, baby girl.”
“It’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m not doing anything differently. And I can’t exercise this week because it’s Fashion Week.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Let’s get you out of this.”
He helped me out of the dress, which I had no idea how it was going to be brought in again, but I’d leave that to the designer. I only had twenty minutes to get across town to the Cunningham Couture runway. I had a front row ticket and intended to be seen by everyone present.
I quickly changed back into the charcoal high-waisted skirt and tight white blouse I’d chosen for the event with black tights and heeled booties. My black leather jacket went on last and then dashed out to the Mercedes to make it to my event. With barely a minute to spare, I waltzed into the event as if I owned the place and had done it all on purpose. To my surprise, Harmony was already seated with an empty chair next to her. My empty chair. Well, that was a change from last year.
“Hey, Harm,” I said, setting my Hermès bag down and taking the only empty seat.
“Oh, hey, Katherine,” she said with a half-smile before her eyes darted back to the front.
“I thought you’d be backstage since you’re working for your mother and all.”
“I should be,” she said tightly. “We’re not showing any of my designs, and Mother thought it’d be better for me to be seen in the crowd. That it would look better.”
She probably wasn’t wrong. Though I could see the anxiety warring on Harmony’s face.
“Well, you can’t change it. So, don’t let the cameras see you worrying about it. You’ll have your day.”
Harmony shot me a skeptical look. “Was that a backhanded compliment?”
“There was nothing backhanded about it,” I said, settling back into my seat. “That was sincere.”
Harmony assessed me. “You’ve… changed.”
“Have I?”
“No,” she said finally. “Maybe not. Maybe you’re the same Katherine after all.”
I stared back at her without a fraction of a question in my expression. I knew her well enough to know she’d explain.
“You’ve always only ever cared about your own. You and Camden are both that way. Loyal to a fault. But only to your own people. No matter how small that circle is.” Harmony tilted her head. “I think maybe… the circle has just grown, and somehow, I’ve ended up inside of it.”
She was right. My circle had always been small and very tight-knit. I liked it that way. But things had changed. Penn getting married had changed much. Falling in love with Camden had changed everything else. My crew wasn’t the same, and my husband was somehow my… protector.
“Old grudges don’t seem to matter much anymore,” I said.
“I never thought you’d get over him.”
“Who?” I whispered even though I knew.
“Penn.”
I swallowed and shrugged. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”
Harmony arched an eyebrow. “Who knew Camden would be so good for you?”
“Probably not even me,” I admitted.
And then the lights went down, and Elizabeth Cunningham stepped on the stage to announce her new runway line. Harmony lit up with excitement, and it all happened so fast. One minute was the whirlwind of anticipation. The next was the final run-through, and the lights were coming on. The crowd soared to their feet, applauding Elizabeth’s genius. She had a knack for color and style and design that few other designers truly possessed. It was a marvel to watch on
display.
“She did great,” I said, catching Harmony’s arm.
“She really did.” She drew me into a hug. “Come back with me.”
I nodded and grabbed my purse before following her toward Elizabeth and the string of media. I’d already posted a picture of my outfit and checked in for the event, but it wouldn’t hurt to get some more material. I’d been slacking lately on my social accounts with all the time I’d been spending at the hospital and planning the charity function for ChildrensOne. I didn’t want any of my followers to wonder where I was and what I was doing.
Elizabeth put her arm around Harmony to take pictures for the cameras. Then she gestured me over. I walked over like I was supposed to be there, but I was genuinely shocked.
“Need both of my daughters for the pictures,” Elizabeth said.
I smiled for the cameras, but I couldn’t believe those words had come out of her mouth. We’d been civil for years… but her daughter? She had never treated me like that. Had Harmony told her what I’d done and how I’d been there for her? Or was Elizabeth just playing it up for the cameras?
Elizabeth winked at me when we were done. “Look at you. You’re so trim right now. You could be up on that stage.”
I laughed. “There’s no way. I haven’t walked a runway in, like, five years.”
“Well, with this perfect figure, we should put in the advertising again. I have this new line, and you’d fit into it perfectly.”
“Count me in,” I said with a shrug.
Why not? She likely wasn’t serious anyway.
“I will.” She looked like she was going to turn back to the others who wanted her attention, but then she pointed her finger at me. “Get me the name of that trainer you’re working with. I’d like to speak with him.”
I nodded. “Of course. I can do that.”
“Keep it up, Katherine.”
She smiled one more time and then disappeared. I let the rest of the crowd wander off without me, only stopping to talk to a few faces that I recognized or who wanted a solo picture.
I didn’t have another runway for a few hours. I’d been planning to walk to a few of the boutique pop-ups and possibly sneak in an interview if I had time. I was so giddy for it that I could cry. Fashion Week was like Disney World for us in the industry.
