by Lisa G Riley
“Well, wish there was more I could do,” Kyle offered as he stood. “But since there isn’t anything either one of us can do right now, do you want to come to the museum with me? It might take your mind off things.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to wait for my bride-to-be.”
“I’ll crash at one of my friend’s houses tonight so you guys can have some privacy. Why don’t you put some Stevland on? That always calms you down.”
Sloan smiled. He’d been a Stevie Wonder fan since the age of two when his mother had put “Superstition” on the stereo. “I’m afraid even Stevie’s music can’t soothe the savage beast this time.”
“All right, then. Later.”
Chapter Twelve
Kendra stopped on the threshold of the living room. She’d spent the rest of the afternoon with her mother, who tried to take Kendra’s mind off what had happened. It hadn’t worked, of course, and the whole time she was with her mother, she’d thought about Sloan. She’d driven home, let herself into the apartment, and seen him immediately. Anger poured off him in waves.
She couldn’t blame him, but she didn’t know what to say to relieve his anger. And his pain. She’d seen that in his eyes as well before he’d left. She sighed. There was really nothing more she could say. She knew he was getting tired of hearing her excuses. Hell, she was tired of hearing them.
“Standing there is not going to make the problem go away,” Sloan said, making Kendra jump. He didn’t even bother to look away from the television.
She walked into the room and, after taking the remote control, turned the television off. She sat on the table in front of him, taking comfort in the bumping of their knees. “I’m sorry, Sloan,” she said plaintively as she looked into his eyes. “I really am.”
“I know you are, Kendra. You’re always sorry, and that’s the problem—the fact that you’ve still got something to be sorry about after all this time.”
“Mom didn’t mean to sound so cavalier about it.”
“I’m not so sure about that, but whether she meant to or not, I don’t give a rat’s ass worth a damn. It’s you I’m mad at, Ken. You’re the one I want to marry. You. It wouldn’t even be possible for me to care less about what your mother thinks. You rushed to reassure Camille—”
“But she’s my mother,” Kendra interrupted. “I don’t like to see her upset, so it’s just automatic for me to reassure her.”
Sloan sighed and shook his head. “You rushed to reassure Camille that you were prepared to take care of yourself when—not if, but when—I leave you. It’s a fucking foregone conclusion in your mind. That’s what was automatic!” His anger brought him to his feet to pace away from her.
Nervously, Kendra licked her lips as fear coursed through her, because what he said was true, and she knew it. “I don’t think like that all the time, Sloan, and I’m working on getting better, I swear. I love you, and logically I know you’re not like my father, but emotionally I’m sometimes that little girl who was abandoned and taught not to trust men. I was told that men aren’t reliable, and it was easy for me to believe, because my father had borne it out.”
“We’ve been together four years, Ken, and I hate that I have to keep reminding you of that fact. If you haven’t gotten it in your head by now that I won’t leave you, that I’m not one of a group and should be judged on my own actions, then how in hell will marriage work between us? How can we spend the rest of our lives together if you’re always waiting for me to leave you?”
Kendra felt her heartbeat accelerate, and the panic that rushed through her was so forceful that it brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t just his words that were causing the reaction. It was his face. He just looked so…fed up. Terrified, she took a deep breath. It seemed her nightmare was coming true. “Are you…are you saying that we shouldn’t get married?”
“What?” Sloan, who’d paced to the other side of the room, exploded back toward her. “That’s what I mean. I ask a question, and you automatically assume that I’m going to leave you. Listen carefully. I don’t want to call off the wedding.” He enunciated clearly. And when her body sagged in relief, he shook his head in disgust. “I’ve got to go,” he said and walked past her. “And no, that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. I just need some air.”
Kendra flinched when the door slammed shut behind him. Other than that, she didn’t move at all for several minutes. Sloan was right. Her answer to her mother had been automatic, and the tone had clearly said she didn’t trust him.
She rose to walk up the stairs to their bedroom. She had to do something to stop the madness. God, she hated feeling this way—anxious and unsure. Sighing, she started stripping off her clothes and wondered when Sloan would come home. She knew if she didn’t change her ways, Sloan would have no choice but to leave her. In the shower, fear swamped her, and leaning against the cold tiles, she let herself shatter. “God, what am I going to do?”
A few minutes later she pulled herself together. She’d never been one to wallow, and the time called for action. What that action was, she didn’t know yet, but she would think of something. She washed quickly, her mind on her troubles and not on the water and the pleasure it usually gave her.
She grabbed a big, fluffy red towel and stepped out of the shower. “God, things were so different when we first met,” she said aloud to the empty room and let her mind wander back to the very first day she’d met him.
It had been her second day at the company, and her boss had told her to take some storyboards down to Sloan to make sure they weren’t crossing any legal lines with their concept. Kendra had walked through a maze of cubicles until she’d found the legal department and his office.
When he’d responded to her knock and invited her in, she’d opened the door. All she’d seen was big, gorgeous male.
His blue eyes had lasered in on her so fiercely that she’d found it difficult to look away. As she’d watched, those eyes had turned lusty and speculative, as if he were a starving man, and she were the main course of a meal that he wondered if he’d be allowed to eat. She had felt the heat and immediately been attracted to him. Instantly nervous, she’d cleared her throat, walked in, and made an awkward introduction. She had told him—told the desk, really, because she was too nervous to actually look at him—what she needed, feeling his gaze on her bent head the entire time. He’d offered her a seat; she had taken it and had almost lost her composure completely when he walked around his desk to sit next to her in the other chair. He looked at the storyboards, said something so funny that she finally raised her head again to laugh and look at him and…she’d gotten snared by those eyes again.
“And you’ve been lost ever since, Kendra,” she said to her mirrored self. “So fix it before you lose him for good.”
*
Sloan sat alone at the restaurant bar and drank from his second bottle of beer. He was tired of thinking about Kendra—tired of being angry with her. Really, there was nothing left for him to do. She knew how he felt—how her distrust made him feel—and now it was up to her. He’d never walked out on her before, but he was so angry that he literally hadn’t been able to stand being around her at that moment.
As he was lowering the bottle, he noticed a woman a few feet away looking at him. He couldn’t help but notice: she was gorgeous, and she was thoroughly checking him out—an act not wholly unappreciated by him. He returned her friendly smile, which was all the encouragement she needed to saunter over.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Gladys.”
“Sloan,” he said and took another sip of his beer.
She indicated the stool next to him. “Do you mind if I sit?”
He thought about it, thought about Kendra, felt his gut churn with anger and beer. “Sure. Why don’t you?”
“So what brings you here all alone on a Saturday evening?” Gladys asked.
“Believe me, you don’t want to know. It’s personal.”
“All right, then. So”—she patted his thigh once�
�“tell me about yourself, Sloan.”
Sloan’s smirk was self-directed. “Listen, Gladys,” he said tiredly. “I’m sorry I led you to believe that I was interested. The fact is I’m not, and I’d like to be left alone. I’m engaged to be married, and I’m just angry with my fiancée right now.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I should have known something was off,” she said as she rose. “Oh well, the good ones are always taken.”
Sloan drank more beer, shifted in his seat, and thought about Kendra. “Damn her anyway,” he muttered, knowing that joy was slowly slipping through their fingers because she couldn’t get her act together. That would be the one thing for which he wouldn’t be able to forgive her. She was everything to him, and he’d known within moments of meeting her that she’d be the last woman he’d ever date. He had looked into those deep brown eyes of hers and recognized his future.
Sloan stood and paid his tab. It was time to go home and deal with his woman.
*
Kendra flipped the second grilled-cheese-and-bacon sandwich out of the skillet just as she heard Sloan’s key turn in the lock. She didn’t run to hide in the bedroom or rush out to meet him, though she wanted to do both. Instead she went to the refrigerator. She sensed his presence at the threshold of the kitchen as she poured the second glass of milk. “Are you hungry?” She finally looked at him. “I’ve made grilled cheese and bacon.”
“Is there tomato?”
“Yes.”
Sloan walked closer and took a plate and the second glass. He started walking toward the dining room. “How’d you know I was on my way?”
“I didn’t,” she said, pulling out her chair after she’d placed her food on the table. “I was making one for myself, and I decided to make one for you just in case you came home.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I did a lot of thinking while you were gone,” she said resolutely and looked down at her sandwich with disinterest. The appetite that had been ravenous moments before had now disappeared.
“Did you?” Sloan was noncommittal.
Kendra nodded and took a drink of milk. “I’ve come to a decision. I’ve been unfair to you during our entire relationship, and I’m sorry, Sloan. I really am. I’ve been so selfish all this time. I’ve only been worrying about how I felt and never stopped to examine what was really going on. I didn’t make a concerted effort to move forward and try something different when what I was doing wasn’t working. So I’m sorry.”
“Okay, Kendra, so you’re sorry like you always are. Now that we’ve established that, can we move on? Tell me what you’re going to do to make things better.”
Kendra shook her head at his impatience. “I’m getting to that. I’ve decided that I’m going to see a therapist. Maybe someone with experience can break through and help me—help us.”
“Are you sure that this is what you want, Ken? I mean, are you absolutely sure? You understand what therapy is likely to uncover? Are you ready to deal with that?” He was already biting into the last of his sandwich.
“Well, therapy will have to help me deal with it, so yes, I am. There’s nothing else left to do.” She absently slid half her sandwich over to him, smiling when he barely said thanks before biting into it. “What else is left besides therapy? I can’t seem to fix myself, so maybe someone else can.”
“A therapist can help you fix yourself, but she can’t fix you. You’ll have to want to change. You’ll have to want the help.”
“I know, and I’m ready.”
“All right, then,” he said with a nod, as if coming to some personal decision of his own. “Did you have someone in mind?”
“Not really. I mean, I did have a roommate in college who’s a therapist now, but since I know her, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go to her. I figured I’d ask her to recommend someone.”
“Okay. Just answer me one last question,” he said and stopped to chase his final bite of sandwich with the last of his milk.
“What?”
“Will the expense of a therapist be considered part of the wedding budget?”
Kendra grinned as relieved tears gathered behind her eyes. She wasn’t completely forgiven, but they were going to be okay. She rose to walk behind his chair, where she hugged him around his neck, pleased when his hands came up to cup her arms. She kissed the top of his head. “I love you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kendra sat uncomfortably and watched as her new therapist, Dr. Pendegrast, watched her. Nervously she rubbed her sweaty palms down her thighs. Finally she couldn’t take it any longer. “All right. What is it that you want to know, Doctor?” she demanded and watched as the other woman smiled. It was a gentle, understanding smile—the same smile she’d given when Kendra apologized for being late. For some reason, it made Kendra nervous.
“I’ve already told you, Ken—Oh sorry. Would you rather I call you Ms. Masters?”
“Uh, Kendra’s fine.”
“All right, then, Kendra. Let’s start over, shall we? It was my understanding that you wanted help in getting yourself to a point where you will trust your fiancé, who has done nothing to merit your distrust in the first place. Am I correct so far?” She paused and waited for Kendra to answer.
A jerky nod was Kendra’s only answer. The other woman already had all of this information, and Kendra didn’t want to rehash it. She just wanted the healing to begin.
“Right. It hardly seems productive, then, that you would sit here and act like there’s nothing wrong—like I’m forcing you to be here. I don’t want to waste your time or mine.”
Taken aback, Kendra stared in silence.
Dr. Pendegrast leaned in. “Kendra, I’ve been practicing for too many years not to recognize resistance when I see it. You’re not a child, and you know better than anyone if you need help. I don’t want to take your money if you’re not going to let me help. So what you need to decide, then, is if you really want to be here.”
Kendra mulled it over. She hadn’t wanted to come but had anyway because she knew something had to change. This was her last recourse. She supposed that she didn’t really believe that therapy would help, because after all, if she couldn’t make herself trust Sloan, then what could a stranger do? She knew that her inability to trust him stemmed from her father’s abandonment. What more could the doctor tell her?
She looked at Dr. Pendegrast, who was looking right back at her, and who, to Kendra’s amused surprise, lifted a perfectly arched brow that clearly asked: well? The little no-nonsense woman was not at all the nodding, agreeable doctor Kendra had pictured. She sighed. She was already there. What did she have to lose by talking? Maybe the doctor would give her some exercises or something to help her develop trust. “All right, Dr. Pendegrast. Let’s get started.”
“Lovely. Now tell me why you think you can’t trust your fiancé not to abandon you.”
Kendra reluctantly began. “Because my father left my mother and me for good when I was twelve.”
“What do you mean ‘for good’?”
Kendra suppressed a sigh. “I mean he was always leaving, but when he left when I was twelve, he didn’t come back.”
“What do you mean when you say he was always leaving?” Dr. Pendegrast asked and looked up from her notes when Kendra didn’t answer immediately.
Just like that, Kendra began to shut down and had to consciously stop herself. She took a deep breath and started to speak, beginning where she’d left off. “When I say he was always leaving, I mean he would leave for months at a time, and we’d hear nothing from him during those periods.”
“And what would happen when he came back?”
Lost in thought, Kendra said softly, “We’d always celebrate. Oh, it was nothing big, mind you. I mean, Mom would bake a cake, or we might go out to dinner or something.”
“How would his leaving make you feel?”
Kendra was quiet for long moments as she thought about those times. Her mind took her back ove
r the years to her childhood. Without being conscious of it, she raised her hands and hugged herself, rubbing her arms slowly. She didn’t remember specifics, but she remembered how she had felt. One word came to mind, and she said it in a hollow voice. “Scared.”
“Scared? Why were you scared?”
“Because my dad was gone.”
“Yes, but he’s just one parent. You still had another one there. You r mother made sure you were taken care of, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did.”
“So why were you afraid?”
Kendra briefly looked at her therapist and then averted her eyes as she thought. “Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because…because she was—My mother was afraid,” she said as realization dawned.
“And how do you know your mother was afraid? Did she tell you that she was?”
Kendra shook her head. “No, she never said…”
“If she never told you that she was afraid, how did you know that she was?”
Kendra frowned. “Why are we talking about my mother? She’s not the one who left. My father is. And aside from all of that, this is supposed to be about me.”
“It is about you. Your mother is a part of you. You’re who you are because of both your parents, aren’t you?” Dr. Pendegrast asked. When Kendra didn’t answer but just looked away again, Dr. Pendegrast insisted, “Tell me how you knew your mother was afraid.”
Kendra didn’t want to answer, but something compelled her to. “I knew she was afraid because of the way she acted. She would cry and rush around like crazy doing things. It was maddening and like she couldn’t be still. And when she was still, that’s all she was. She did absolutely nothing but sit or lie down.”
“And what about you? How did she treat you?”
Wings of panic began to beat in Kendra’s chest, and she suppressed the urge to get up and leave. “Fine.”
“Fine? What do you mean?”
“What do you want me to say?” Kendra asked in an emotionless tone and finally looked at her. “Do you want me to say that she abused me? That she hated me? Well, she didn’t. For the first couple of days after he’d leave, she’d ignore me.”
