“Speak English, dude.”
“Her tits fucking exploded, man. Like, they were the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen to this day, and believe me when I say I’ve seen my fair share.” I don’t need convincing. He makes a cupping gesture with his hands, and his lips go all pouty.
“You were sleazing over your brother’s pregnant girlfriend? Dude, that’s some sick shit right there.”
“Dude, I was fourteen, and she used to prance around the house in these tight tank tops with her tits on full display. I spent months jerking off just thinking about them.”
My face contorts. “Dude, you have serious problems.”
“Dude, do I look like I give a fuck?”
“Continue.” I wave my hand in the air. “This is disgustingly entertaining so far.”
He shoves his middle finger up at me. “It didn’t take long for Asher to realize Genesis wasn’t going to win any Mom of the Year awards. She drank throughout the rest of her pregnancy, and we worried the baby would come out drunk or a raging alcoholic, but Demi arrived all pink and healthy and utterly gorgeous.”
His eyes light up at the mention of his niece. He’s told me about her before, but I never knew the background. “I love my niece. She’s the coolest, sweetest little thing, but it was difficult when she was a baby. The first few months were a fucking nightmare, not going to lie to you, bud. She had colic and she screamed all the time. Like, I mean, all the time. I couldn’t go to sleep without ear plugs.”
I have no idea what colic is, but I don’t feel like educating myself either.
I’m in sync with that old adage—ignorance is bliss.
“Dude, that girl has a fine pair of lungs on her, I tell ya.” He chuckles. “Genesis did a runner when Demi was fourth months old, and we haven’t seen her since.”
I curse under my breath.
“Honestly? Best thing that could’ve happened. Not that Asher felt that way at the time. He took it all on himself. Felt he hadn’t done enough to help. To make her feel accepted. He felt huge guilt over the fact Demi was growing up without her mother. Our mom helped out a lot, but she was still his responsibility and he stepped up. Dropped out of Yale. Yale. Fact, friend.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Asher was always the smart one, the one designated to take over the family business, so no one was surprised when he got into Yale, but he had to give it up. He didn’t want to be so far away from Demi, so he enrolled in a local college and worked his ass off to graduate with a business degree.”
His expression turns grave. “He had a rough couple of years, but he did what he needed to for his daughter. I’ve never been prouder of my brother, and he’s an amazing father. Demi dotes on him. Worships the ground he walks on. Asher works for Dad’s company now, and he’ll take over as CEO in three years when Dad retires. He started going out with Melinda two years ago, and she insisted that Demi was an integral part of their relationship from the get-go. She’s been the mom Demi deserves. They recently got engaged, and they’re planning to marry next year.”
It’s a nice story, and I get why he’s telling me this, but the whole scenario still scares the crap out of me.
Brett’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I know you’re worried you won’t be good enough, but you will be. It won’t be easy, but nothing worth fighting for is. Everyone knows that.”
“There’s more to it than that. There’s Lana, figuring out how we do this whole thing, and telling my parents and the rest of my brothers. There’s a shit ton of stuff to figure out, and honestly, man, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Asher was a fucking mess at the start. He expressed a lot of the same sentiments as you, but he pulled through. If you talked to him, he’d tell you he wouldn’t have it any other way. I can set up a call for you if you think it’d help.”
“Maybe. Let me think about it.”
“I just want to say one final thing, and then I’ll shut up. There are a couple major differences between your story and my brother’s. You have history with Lana and you love her, I know you do. She’s made some bad choices, but they’re not insurmountable if you can find it in your heart to forgive her. And she loves you. She’s loved you her whole life. You have a girl and a son worth fighting for, Kal. Don’t do something you’ll end up regretting because that may be the one thing you can’t recover from.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lana
When the following day passes and there’s still no word from Kal, I hit rock bottom. I’ve lost him, and at this stage, I’m also concerned that he’s not going to be there for Hewson. I’m running out of ways to throw Mom off the scent, and I’ll have to admit the truth if he doesn’t man up soon. I’m also questioning my whole approach. Am I right to leave him alone to work this out, or should I be more forthright? I don’t want to push him. I want him to make this decision by himself, but what if he doesn’t? For Hewson’s sake, I’ll have to intervene. Kal can reject me, but I’m damned if I’m going to let him reject his son without putting up a fight.
I thought leaving him a copy of my manuscript for The Story of Us along with a handwritten note on the day of the anniversary of the trial might have sparked something in him, but it appears to have made no difference, which worries me enormously. While I’m talking a great game, deep down I’m scared I’m deceiving myself into thinking everything is going to work out when it’s not.
I’ll have more free time on my hands now I’m not volunteering at the center. It could be a curse if I don’t keep myself busy, so I’m going to use the time to focus on two things—working on my book and researching options for college next semester. I meant what I said to Mom a couple weeks ago. I want all of us out from under my grandmother’s influence. I’ve discovered there is family housing on campus and childcare facilities—Baby Gators—and I’m actively looking into it to see if it’s a possibility for Hewson and me. I want Mom to be free to reunite with Dad in Connecticut. I know she’ll put up the mother of all fights, but I’m prepared for it.
At the very least, I’ll make sure Kal provides some financial support for Hewson, so I think I can make this work. The big issue is funding for next semester’s fees. I’m due to meet with the administration next week to see if there is any scholarship potential. It’s a long shot, but I want to do everything in my power to stick with my life plan without the need to rely on my grandparents’ money.
I also have another idea which might help with the financial side of things, even if it’s a long shot.
I’m one of the last to leave the library Tuesday night, and I’m bone-weary by the time I make it back to my dorm.
A form steps out of the shadows, and I scream.
“Shush, Lana. It’s only me,” Kal says, while I try to recalibrate my heart. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he’s staring awkwardly at the ground. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah. Sure,” I pant out.
He leads me to his truck and we both get in. Tension is ripe in the air as I wait for him to start. He clears his throat, and I turn to look at him. Even in the dim light of the cab, I can see the strain on his face. Dark, bruising shadows linger under his eyes, and there’s a thick layer of hair on his chin. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in weeks. His mouth is pulled into a grim line, and his face is leached of all color.
He looks as bad as I feel.
“I’m sorry for running out on you. I shouldn’t have done that, but I freaked,” he starts by explaining.
“It’s okay. I know you were in shock.”
He frowns as his eyes hone in on my neck. Instinctively, I reach up, wrapping a hand around my bandaged skin. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Goddammit, Lana! Hasn’t there been enough lies? Enough omissions?” My stomach lurches sourly. Slowly, I nod and explain what happened. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve come to the hospital with you.”
&nbs
p; “You weren’t exactly speaking to me, and I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.”
“Of course, I would have! Just because things are … messed up between us right now doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. I’m trying to wrap my head around it, Lana, but it’s a lot to take in.”
I gulp. “I know. I’ve been there, but if it helps, Kal, he’s a sweet little boy and so easy to care for. He is sleeping through the night now, and he’s always happy and smiling during the day. It’s … it’s not hard to love him. Not hard at all.”
“I don’t think I’ll be good enough,” he whispers. “I don’t know the first thing about being a dad.”
Taking a chance, I shunt over a little, taking his hands in mine. “You just have to be yourself. That’s all. I believe in you.”
“How did you do it? How did you know what to do?”
I snort. “Kal, I was completely terrified the first couple of weeks. The enormity of it only hit me when I was holding him in my arms. To know this tiny little person was so defenseless and so utterly reliant on me was the proudest and scariest feeling in the world. Believe me when I say I know all about feeling inept. I would look at him sleeping in his crib at night and feel wholly inadequate.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But I was also determined.” I eyeball him. “I was all he had, so I had to be enough. That gave me the strength and determination I needed. Well, that and the baby books I devoured.” I laugh, but it sounds forced. “Between them and Mom and learning as I went along, I’ve managed, and you will too.”
He rubs the back of his head. “Can I, uh, borrow those books?”
My lips tug up. “Sure. They’re back at the house, but I’ll get them for you this weekend.”
“I, uh, was thinking maybe I could come visit this weekend? If that’s okay?”
I can’t contain the happy feeling, and a huge smile spreads across my mouth. “That’d be great. We could take him out somewhere so we don’t have to be around the others. Maybe we could go to the—”
“Lana,” he cuts in bluntly, removing his hands from mine as if he’s only just realized our hands were conjoined. “I was thinking maybe you could show me how to look after him this weekend and that after that I could take him out, by myself, every Saturday.”
Disappointment is a brutal kick in the gut. “Sure. Of course.” I try to rein in my misplaced excitement.
He levels me with a sincere look. “You lied again, Lana, and I’m so angry with you. It honestly wasn’t that hard to forgive you for the trial because that was hurt speaking, and I’d contributed to that, but this—this is completely different. You kept something hugely important from me. Denied me the chance to be at the birth of my child. Forced me to miss out on the first six months of his life. I will never get that time back.”
He looks out the window, carefully planning his next words. Slowly, he turns around. “I want to forgive you, and maybe someday that forgiveness will be forthcoming, but how can I ever trust you again, Lana? How can I believe you’re telling me the truth when I know you’re capable of such dishonesty?” His voice cracks, and tears are clogging my throat, but I hold them at bay. I have no right to them. Everything Kal says is the truth.
“I came to UF to fight for a second chance. To prove I could be the man you deserved, but things have changed. Now you need to prove you’re the woman I know you to be, because the Lana I knew didn’t lie, and she sure as hell didn’t allow herself to be manipulated into doing things she wasn’t comfortable with. The girl I knew carried such quiet confidence with grace, she knew her own mind and had the strength to follow her convictions. But you’re not her, and I can’t believe in you, can’t trust you, not when I know what you’re capable of. And without that, there is no us. When I look at you, all I see is deceit and lies, and that’s not a good foundation for a relationship, so, whatever we had, whatever we were reclaiming, it’s lost. You and I are over. I’m here because I won’t abandon my child, and I want the opportunity to get to know him, but that’s it. That’s all I can offer.”
It’s a miracle I hold the tears at bay, but I do, nodding my understanding.
But when I get back to my dorm, the dam breaks, and I collapse into a sodden heap on my bed, soaking my pillow, and only falling asleep after I’ve cried myself dry.
I don’t see Kal the rest of the week, and it’s for the best. My heart is broken, shattered into a million pieces, and I can scarcely drag my body out of the bed each day. It would be so easy to give in to my depression, to stay in bed, shutting out the outside world and giving into my grief. But I can’t. I can’t indulge my self-pity. I’m a mom now, and I’ve made a commitment to my son, and that’s why I get up every morning and go to class and immerse myself in my studies and my book.
I promised Kal if there was anything to report regarding Hewson I’d contact him, and I meant it, but our son has had a placid, uneventful week, according to Mom. I travel to Earleton on Friday night, forgoing the usual social interaction. I haven’t had much enthusiasm for parties these last few weeks. Anyway, I’m making great inroads with my manuscript, and I plan to stay up late tonight, writing on my veranda, looking out over the lake. If there’s anything I’ll miss about my grandparents’ estate, it’s the peace and quiet and the stunning views.
Mom has deliberately kept Hewson up a little later tonight so I can see him before he goes to sleep. He’s fresh out of the bath, all soft and gorgeous smelling when I pull him into my arms. I give him his bottle seated in the rocking chair in his room and then tell him a story, watching as his eyelids grow heavy. I continue to talk in hushed tones, rocking him in my arms long after he’s fallen asleep. I miss him so much during the week that, some weekends, it’s almost impossible to let him out of my arms.
Placing him carefully in his crib, I slide the blanket up over him. I kiss the top of his head and sigh in contentment.
This right here.
This is why I’m doing everything.
Why I know everything will be okay, even if my vision of the perfect family life has come to a crashing end.
I tiptoe out of his room and make my way to the smaller reception room where I know Mom’s waiting to talk to me. When I step inside, I startle at the sight of my grandmother, sitting stiffly on the couch across from Mom looking like there’s a lamp pole shoved up her butt. My grandparents use the formal living room, and they hardly ever step foot in this room, which is why Mom and I have claimed it as our own. Mom’s lips are pulled tight, and her eyes look shiny. My fingers dig into my palms. If grandmother has said anything to upset her, I won’t be responsible for my actions. No matter how hard Mom tries, grandmother never praises her, and she’s always quick to find fault.
Honestly, I can’t get out of here fast enough.
“Ah, Lana. There you are,” she greets me almost pleasantly, patting the couch alongside her.
My eyes dart to Mom’s and she subtly nods. With mounting trepidation, I sit down beside my grandmother. She smiles at me, and warning beacons boom in my head. “I believe your young man is visiting us tomorrow.”
“He’s not my—” Mom’s terrified eyes stop me mid-sentence. Understanding, I clear my throat. “Yes.” I smile.
“Excellent. I look forward to meeting him. I expect he’ll stay for dinner.”
Over my dead body am I subjecting Kal to whatever she has in store. “I’ll ask him.”
Her smile turns into a grimace. “I expect you both to be there.” Her tone is demanding, and I have a silly, childish urge to poke my tongue out at her. I stifle my giggle, merely nodding. She can go to hell. I’ll have Kal out of here in plenty of time. I don’t care how mad she gets.
Mom slumps on the couch after grandmother has left.
“What’s that all about?” I get up and move to the table. I pour two glasses of wine and hand one to Mom as I sit down beside her.
“She was over the moon when I tol
d her Kalvin Kennedy was Hewson’s father and that he was coming to see him tomorrow.”
“Ah, I see.” I kick off my shoes and lift my bare feet onto the table. We hadn’t told grandmother who the father was on purpose because Mom said she didn’t trust her not to interfere. Not to contact the Kennedys and make them aware. We were worried she might do that anyway, even without proof. My trial testimony is a matter of public record, so it wouldn’t take much to join the dots, to figure out he was my baby daddy. Grandmother is a total snob, and the fact Kal comes from such a prestigious family has clearly delighted her. Blood boils in my veins.
“It makes me dislike her even more,” Mom admits, a little apologetically. Even though no one would blame Mom for saying she hated her parents, she has never once said that about them. My mother has more dignity in her little toe than my grandmother has in her whole body. “If your father had come from money, she would’ve been overjoyed that he wanted to marry me and accept responsibility for his baby, but because he was poor, she wanted to get me as far away from him as possible.” She takes a big swig of her wine. “It hurts a little that she’s willing to accept Kalvin just because he comes from money.”
“I know, Mom.” I rest my head on her shoulder. “But she’s a narrow-minded bigot, and she’s going straight to hell. I don’t care that she goes to church every day, donates thousands to church funds and charities, and acts all pious in the community. Being charitable in your every thought and every action is what matters. It’s why you’ll be an angel when you get to heaven.”
I’m happy when a smile lifts the corners of Mom’s mouth. I deplore seeing her so upset. I know living here has been very hard on her, and I sense she shelters me from the brunt of it. My heart swirls with love and pride. “I love you, Mom. I don’t say it enough, but I love you and Dad so much. I couldn’t have asked for better parents.” My words carry much more weight now I’m a parent myself, and I see how difficult it is.
Loving Kalvin (The Kennedy Boys Book 4) Page 24
