by Mia Kayla
Impressive though I was clueless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckled. “It’s all right. Just pick one, so I can drink the whole bottle to drown out the disappointment in my grandfather’s voice. He’s like a broken record.” His light expression suddenly slackened, and he ran a hand through his short dark hair.
It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. His grandfather wasn’t fair. Josh should be able to do what he wanted with his own life and future without feeling guilty about it.
“Pick one,” he said again, tapping his foot and giving me his impatient face.
“No.”
“Do it,” he insisted. He poked at my side. “Do it!”
I scrunched my nose before shutting my eyes. Josh was relentless when he wanted to be. One day, he’d make a brilliant lawyer, one that would make a difference.
“I never give in to peer pressure, but since you’re being a brat…eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” I plucked a bottle out. The tag said Monthélie 1er. cru Les Clous 2013, whatever that meant.
“Dinner is ready.” We heard from the top of the stairs. It was Casey.
I placed the bottle of wine in Josh’s hand. “If it sucks, you picked it.”
He shrugged. “I probably won’t remember a lot from this night. Not if I can help it.” He went silent for a moment. “Can we just hide out in here?”
I reached for his hand. “You brought me here as a buffer, so just know I’ll be buff-buff-buffing away. I won’t let him get another word in.”
He nodded, his eyes almost hopeful, and he swung our hands between us, leading us up the stairs.
It was like Thanksgiving dinner. Nora had prepared a feast with turkey, stuffing, and potatoes. It was as if I were at a five-star restaurant, being interviewed to see if I was good enough to hang out with a Stanton.
At the table, Josh was to the right of Al while Albert, Josh’s father, sat to the left.
Casey brought me into the conversation by asking about my career as a pastry chef.
“So, what restaurant do you work for?” Al asked.
I smiled. The judgmental look on his face could not be ignored, but it didn’t matter. I was proud of what I did. I loved what I did. And, if anything, I could say that I did it for myself and paid my own bills.
“I work at Sheldon’s Italia downtown.”
“Her crème brûlée is to die for,” Casey sighed. “Like, so good.”
“You haven’t tried her chocolate soufflé,” Josh added, his eyes brightening.
“So, do you plan on working there forever?” Al asked.
The lightness in the atmosphere evaporated like an industrialized vacuum had drawn in the cheerful atmosphere and expelled an awkwardness that had the mood shifting. When Josh’s jaw tensed, I placed my hand on his lap and squeezed his leg to placate him.
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“What’s your next step? Head chef?”
I gave him a gracious smile. “I’m currently applying to Le Cordon Bleu in Chicago, and, yes, I want to be the head pastry chef one day. Maybe head up my own restaurant.”
“Oh,” was all the old man could say.
But, from that one word, I could tell what he thought of my grand layout for my future.
“That’s my plan.”
“Isn’t Jennifer pre-med?” he asked, turning to Josh, as though I hadn’t even spoken.
Josh stood, making his chair fly back. The movement was so abrupt that I flinched, and so did Casey. The air thickened with discomfort, but being Samantha Clarke, I clenched my teeth through it.
“Dad, Casey”—Josh gave them each a curt nod— “I’ll see you next weekend.”
Al glanced around the room and gave a cynical laugh. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, playing innocent though there was no innocence in his eyes. His comment was meant to demean me.
I tugged at Josh’s shirt, hating the torment in his eyes and wanting him to sit. I’d come here to be the buffer, and I begged him with one look to calm down.
Josh’s jaw was set in stone, his eyes fixed with fury. “If you want to degrade me and what I want to do for a living, go ahead, but don’t be rude to my friend. She loves what she does, and by the way, she’s very talented. Most of all, she’s happy, but that’s something you don’t care about.”
“Josh,” I whispered, still tugging at the end of his shirt.
He extended his hand. “We’re leaving, Sam.”
One look in his eyes, and I knew he had already made up his mind.
I pushed my chair back as I stood. “Thanks for having me.”
As we headed to the door, Casey chased us, pleading with Josh to stay. Albert started arguing with Al. Robert tried to play the mediator between them. It didn’t sound cordial, more like a full-on war was happening.
Without releasing his hold on me, Josh kissed the top of Casey’s head. “Love you.”
“Josh, please.” Her eyes were pained and pleading and tired.
“I can’t.” He shook his head. “He’s just said too much. I tried, Case, but he’s a broken record. Nothing ever changes. I can’t take it anymore.”
She hugged him and kissed his cheek, understanding seeping into her eyes. “Okay.” Then, she turned and pulled me in. “I hope to see you again, Sam.”
“Joshua!”
Every part of Josh’s body stiffened.
When he didn’t turn, the tone in Al’s voice softened. “I just want to talk.”
Josh held my hand so tightly, I thought my fingers would break, but I squeezed his back just as firmly, letting him know I was right beside him and had his back. His eyes were hard when he turned to his grandfather.
“Joshua, I flew all this way to see you,” Al said gruffly. There it was again—the shameful undertone in Al’s words, as though Josh owed him something, anything, most likely everything.
Josh stayed silent, his eyes still troubled, mouth shut, shoulders tense.
“Ten minutes. You’re not even going to give your grandfather ten minutes of your time?”
The silence and their stare-down ticked on forever until Josh tipped his head in a curt nod.
I touched Josh’s arm with my free hand. “I’ll be in the foyer,” I whispered. “Go talk to him.”
His strained eyes met mine, the cold a contrast to his normally warm demeanor. I gave his hand one final squeeze before stepping away. I could still see them both down the hall.
Nora was at the front door with my jacket, her eyes downturned. “Never did like that grouchy old man.” She winked.
I was pretty sure Al and Nora were about the same age.
Then, I heard it.
Al’s infuriated voice boomed in the background. “What do you mean, no? What kind of money will you be making as a lawyer? I can guarantee, you will make a hundred times more at Stanton.”
Nora’s light hand touched my shoulder, her eyes squinting in anger. “Robert has already quit his job and is working for Stanton.”
Great. Now, Casey’s boyfriend was working for the family business? No wonder there was more pressure on Josh.
“Are they moving to New York?” From what I understood, Stanton Steel was headquartered in New York.
“Robert works out of their Chicago office. That’s where Albert works. But he has to travel to New York at least once a month. Who knows what will happen when the old man retires?”
The rumble in Al’s voice brought us to silence.
“This is our legacy. We built this from the ground up, and what? You’re going to let this company be led by a bunch of investors? Tell me why.”
“Because that’s not his passion,” Nora said, answering for Josh but only loud enough for me to hear. “Because Josh is like his mother and lets his passion lead his life, not money or power.”
When Josh remained quiet, his grandfather shouted, “This is bullshit!”
Josh remained still, taking it like the man that he was, but I cringed. I couldn’t stand watching this. I wa
nted to help him, but I knew getting in between them would only make things worse.
“You’re only taking this route, the lawyer route, because you know you’ll have access to your trust fund in a couple of years. Well, guess what? It’s not going to happen.” Al’s nostrils flared. “You’re going to walk out on this family when we need you? I’m retiring in less than five years. It takes years to groom the CEO. Your father has been in this business for longer than you’ve been born. You need to start now, but you’re telling me no. You’re telling me we put you through Yale for business, only for you to go to law school? You’re a disgrace to this family. A disappointment, damn it!”
Albert stepped between Al and his son, but it didn’t stop the nasty tone of the old man.
I gripped my stomach. Every word that put Josh down was like a punch to my gut. Harder and harder, until one more word would have me on the ground.
Nora’s eyes narrowed. Though she was short and a little round, I believed this woman could throw down, regardless of her age.
“I’m sorry,” Josh finally said, his voice strangled. “Grandfather, safe travels home.”
He turned and approached me, followed by his whole family. I hated the agony and anger and disconnect in his eyes.
His jacket was already in my arms, ready for him. I wanted out of here, but more than that, I wanted him out of here.
But his grandfather kept talking and talking and blabbing like his words mattered. “You walk out that door, boy, you have no more trust fund to depend on because that’s for the Stantons, which you are not! You hear me? You’re not getting a dime.”
Albert blocked Al’s path from moving forward. “Just go, Josh!” he said.
Josh couldn’t get out of the house fast enough, and I trailed behind him, down to the curved driveway, past his car, and away from the house, away from the chaos, away from the crazy old man.
“Josh!” I called out.
But he kept going and going until I rushed toward him and placed a consoling hand on his back.
“The worst part is”—a heavy sigh escaped him—“I hate being a disappointment to this family. Fuck…” He blew out a slow, jagged breath, one where it sounded like it hurt to breathe. “Fuck!” He kicked a planter on the edge of the driveway and knocked it over. After staring at it for a moment, he seemed to think better of it and began to pick up the dirt with his hands.
I reached down for him. “Stop, Josh. What are you doing?”
I tried to pull him up, but he wouldn’t budge.
“I’m cleaning up my mess.” His voice quivered with pain and underlying anger.
My heart cracked at his sullen tone.
Sighing, I dropped to my knees and joined him, scooping up the dirt in my palms and dumping it back into the pot.
“Sam…what the hell?”
“I’m helping. We help clean up each other’s messes, right?” I smiled sweetly, as though picking up dirt in the middle of the night in front of this palatial mansion was the norm.
He swiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, sat cross-legged on the driveway and pulled me onto his lap, dirt and all. His head dropped to the crook of my neck where I felt his soft breaths leave his lips and touch my skin.
“I appreciate you so much. You know that, right?”
My fingers threaded through his soft dark brown locks as I held him against me, needing to comfort him, needing him to cheer up. “I’m pretty damn wonderful,” I said with a chuckle.
But then something wet touched my neck. I didn’t know if it was from leftover or fresh tears, but it sucker-punched me in the chest, and the crack in my heart broke into pieces, like shards of glass scattered on the floor. Heat formed behind my own eyes.
“I just want to hold you until this passes. Until I calm down.” He let out a few breaths, in and out. “I feel like the biggest jerk right now.”
When his body shook with tremors of guilt, I knew it was my mission to make the guilt go away because that was what I did. “Living your life doesn’t make you a jerk.”
He nodded against my neck, his warm breath blowing kisses against my skin.
“I know it doesn’t feel like that right now.” I rested my chin against his shoulder. “It will. In time, you’ll realize it was the right decision.”
I glanced out at the silent night and the twinkle of the stars above us. They were so calm and quiet, in opposition to the chaos happening in the house and in Josh’s life.
After five minutes, his breaths evened out, and he pulled back to search my face. “So, I’m officially broke now. You still want to be my friend?” There was a hint of humor behind his tone, despite the seriousness in his words.
I smiled because my joking Josh was slowly making an appearance. I’d missed that dude.
“I guess,” I said, feigning disappointment.
“Would now be a bad time to ask you if I could move in?”
I laughed. “Sure. You can sleep in Chloe’s room.”
He laughed, too.
Sitting on his lap felt so wrong and right at the same time. I loved consoling him, and the comfort of his touch brought a familiar warmth to the center of my chest. But we were just friends.
We stared at each other for a moment, and then I kissed him on the cheek. And, for the first time tonight, he smiled…this time for real.
Chapter 20
The sweet aroma of my devil’s food cake batter wafted up my nose. With one finger, I swiped the frosting at the edge of the bowl and brought it to my lips. “Mmm-mmm good,” I said, throwing a smile at Josh.
It had been a few days since the awful meeting with his grandfather, and besides a few texts back and forth, I still hadn’t spoken to Hawke. I had sent the last text, and he hadn’t responded. That was the thing with wanting more. It never stopped. I’d wanted more than a hook-up-when-in-town relationship, and now that I had it, I wanted more of Hawke, too—more texts, more calls and communication, and more of his time.
I was starting to seriously wonder why I was putting myself through all this torture. Then, I’d backtrack and realize that this was his lifestyle, busy with interviews and promo. I wanted this, so I needed to understand and make this work.
“Yo, yo, yo, Earth to Princess.” Josh waved his arms in front of me, pulling me from my daze.
I smiled and brushed some flour from Josh’s cheek. I was teaching Josh how to bake because, the two times he’d brought over brownies for me to try, I’d nearly choked on one of them, and the other had the consistency of oatmeal.
He needed some major help in the kitchen. Our mission tonight was to bake a successful chocolate cake.
Before I dropped my hand from his cheek, he reached for it, pulled it down between us, and gave it a little tug. “Give me some sugar, woman! Powdered sugar.”
His smile was like sprinkles on top of a cupcake and, a cherry on top of a hot fudge sundae. It was adorably cute and signature to Josh.
It was hard to swallow that Josh’s grandfather didn’t adore his grandson. It was hard not to be drawn to him because of his cheerful self and big heart.
“It’s in the overhead cabinet.” Sidestepping him, I reached behind him and pulled it out. My baking ingredients were all stored in white ceramic containers, each with the ingredient written in white chalk on a black label. “It says, Powdered Sugar.” I pointed to the sign and smirked.
He pinched my side as he passed me. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“Brilliant,” I sassed.
It was our scheduled movie night, and this time, Josh had chosen the movie, but first I’d decided we’d bake a cake. Also, I knew it would distract me from my impatience with Hawke.
“How do I work this contraption anyway?” He took out my old KitchenAid that I had bought from a pawn shop.
The mixer was rusty and ridiculously old. It hadn’t worked in years, but I kept it because it was my very first mixer. Call me Sentimental Sam because I kept everything.
“That old thing do
esn’t work. There’s a hand mixer in the bottom cabinet.”
He pulled at the handle of the KitchenAid, and it tilted.
“See?” I laughed. “It’s a piece of crap. Use the hand mixer.”
He angled his head, examining said piece of crap. The handle was brown, as it was an older style. “Why don’t you have a better one?”
“Because they’re like five hundred dollars.” I moved past him and bent down to reach in the cabinet for the mixer. “Here.”
“You’re a pastry chef.” He frowned. “You need a real mixer.”
“When I make real money, I’ll buy a real mixer.” I pointed to his unmixed ingredients. “Get going. I need frosting.” I slapped my hand against the counter to prove a point. “Chop-chop.”
Josh saluted and then plugged in the hand mixer to stir the blend of powdered sugar with a few drops of milk. The white of the icing glistened from the light above me. With my wooden spoon, I was mixing the cake batter in my glass bowl when my phone buzzed on the counter.
When Josh glanced at the picture of Hawke and me on the screen, his grin slowly dimmed. I had taken the picture after a concert as proof because I swore, we’d never see each other again. Never in a million years had I imagined that we would be an official couple—me as his girlfriend.
I picked up the phone, placing the receiver by my ear.
“Sunshine…” Hawke’s voice shocked me, sounding shaky and sad.
I stepped away from the kitchen, trying not to panic at his downturned tone.
“What’s the matter?” I turned to Josh, raised a finger, and walked straight into my room, shutting the door behind me.
Then, I heard it—soft sobs from my normally cheerful, self-confident boyfriend.
My hand pressed to my abdomen, my butt dropping to the edge of my bed. “Hawke, tell me what’s wrong.” I gripped the comforter, bracing for whatever he was about to tell me. I was certain he wouldn’t cry for nothing.
“I fucked up, baby.”
My stomach dropped at his words. “Are you drunk?”
“Yeah.”
Flickers of cocaine and heroin and packets of other drugs spread across the table filtered through my mind as dread filled my veins. But I shook it off. He’d told me he wasn’t into that.
