by Wendy Owens
“Oh—hi,” she seems surprised as she whispers the words.
“Are you in a library?” I joke in response to her whispered tone.
She hesitates. Why in the hell is she hesitating? “Sorry, just in a crowded room.”
“Is everything okay with Ben?” I ask.
“Huh?” she breaths. “Yeah, of course. He’s awake.”
“Really?” I exclaim.
“Yeah, I was going to try and call you this afternoon and tell you then.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I thought you were coming home, so I wanted to see when your last flight was going to get in,” she explains.
“Well— I’m home,” I state plainly, eagerly waiting for her response. I press my lips together, the desperation growing inside me with each passing silent second.
“Oh,” she gasps, and I can sense she’s surprised. “Why didn’t you call me when you got in?”
“I’m sorry, I should have,” I admit. I want to tell her that I was too busy being a jackass because apparently I’m insecure with the thought I may not actually be who she wants to be with now—but I don’t. I wait for her to respond as I pace the wood planks of the studio floor. The ghostly image of her on the floor playing with the puppies haunts my mind. It doesn’t feel right when she’s not next to me. You have to fix this. I warn myself silently.
She’s hesitating again. Damn it!
I hear an exhale before she speaks. “I’m at the hospital, the doctors are meeting with the family.”
“Wait, what? He’s awake, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, is everything okay?” I force the words. I want to be the supportive man she needs, no that she deserves, but I have to force my mind to stop screaming. Shutting that portion off from the conscious portion of my brain. I want her all to myself. But I love the woman I got to know in Africa. The woman who exudes empathy. The woman who taught me people really can be genuine, sympathetic, and caring creatures.
Love, the word settles so easily on my thoughts. The woman I love. I’m falling in love with her. Breath catches in my throat, sliding down my throat like a sharp dagger, dragging its way against my esophagus as it moves downward.
“He seems good, but I guess there’re concerns about some of the swelling,” she answers, and the fear is apparent in her tone.
“Concerned how?”
“I don’t know exactly,” her voice trembles, and I can hear how worried she is. “I’m just waiting for them to come out of the room.”
It feels like I’m being blown apart from the inside out. All I want to do is hold her and comfort her, but at the same time, it sickens me that she’s this distraught over someone she used to have feelings for. At least, I thought she was done with him …
I sigh, “I’m so sorry baby. Do you want me to come there?”
“What?” She exclaims. “No!” There’s no hush to her voice now.
“Are you sure? I want to be there for you.” I want to cry why not. I want to go straight to the hospital despite her answer. I won’t. I’ll sit here and wait for her. Wait until I fit into her life. Is this jealousy? I never want to feel this way again. God, I never knew how important my never fall in love rule was for me until this moment.
“Trust me,” she breaths, calmer now. “It would just make things harder.”
Harder? How would your boyfriend being there make things harder? Am I not what I thought I was to you?
“As you wish?” I whisper.
“I better go,” she follows up, not remarking on The Princess Bride quote. I shiver, I’ve never felt so cold.
“When will I see you?” I wince as I ask the question, wondering if it makes me sound as desperate as I feel.
“Are you at the studio?” she inquires.
“Yeah, waiting for you.” I bite my tongue, helpless as the desperation comes tumbling out of my mouth.
“I guess I could get away for a bit.” There’s no excitement in her voice. She doesn’t sound angry or frustrated either, but I can’t shake the anxiety gripping me.
“I miss you,” I add. “See you soon.”
She hesitates again, then before hanging up, says, “I miss you, too.”
IT’S BEEN NEARLY AN HOUR since we hung up. I move around the room to keep myself occupied, but my bones begin to feel like weights anchoring me to the floor. She should be here by now. Why isn’t she here?
I’ve thought about texting her more than once, and I hate what this relationship has turned me into. I feel like I have no control over my thoughts. Random ideas flooding my head like what if I lose her? What if she still loves him?
I’m about to make another all too short lap around the studio when I hear the buzzer. Without hesitation I rush down the steps, my heart racing, and I throw open the door.
My stomach sinks as I see my father staring back at me. His salt and pepper hair is neatly kept as always. Though it’s the weekend, he is still wearing a suit and tie, with a black cashmere topcoat. I glance over his shoulder. Of course, I think. His driver is waiting for him.
“Do you always just open your door like that for anyone? I mean son, you don’t exactly live in the safest of areas.” I am still amazed by how much I can loathe this man’s voice.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, refusing to look directly at him.
“I heard you were back in town. Is it so terrible for a father to check in on his son?” His innocent act isn’t playing with me.
“One of your spies told you that?” I grumble.
He lifts his hands defensively. “Please, I honestly came here because I wanted to talk. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
“So talk.”
He looks around as if there were a crowd of onlookers though there isn’t another living soul to be found. “It’s kind of a private matter.”
“Seriously?” I grunt.
“Okay, it’s also freezing out here,” he pushes.
I reach a hand out into the air. It’s nowhere near what I would call freezing, but I relent. Anything that will help get him out of here more quickly.
“Fine,” I huff, turning and racing up the stairs. He takes his time. Everything has always been on my father’s schedule. I don’t expect that to ever change.
“I like what you’ve—” he pauses and glances around the studio, “done with the place.” Considering he has never seen my place, like most things about him, I find this comment meaningless.
“What do you want?” I demand again, folding my arms across my chest, as I grow impatient.
“Can’t a father just want to check in on his only son?”
“No. Now tell me what you want.”
“I wanted to discuss you and Kitten.” And there it is. He came here to broker a resolution between my ex and me because it might improve the relationship between him and a business deal.
“Why do you care?”
“You two seemed happy,” he says. “Do you think you were happy?”
I laugh. “Please, I was never happy with Kitten.” The numerous jokes run through my mind that Kenzie told about my ex, and I can’t help smiling. “And besides, in Kitten’s timeline we broke up ages ago. She’s probably already shacked up with some old billionaire who has promised to make her famous.”
I watch as his eyes dart to the floor and he shifts his weight uncomfortably.
“Jesus Christ! Are you kidding me?” I exclaim.
“Look, son, I didn’t want you to find out about her and me from gossip,” he says, again trying to play the hero.
“Wow—whatever. Honestly, I don’t even care.”
“You don’t care that your father is going to marry your ex-girlfriend?”
“Marry?” I gasp, a thunderous laughter erupting from me. “You’ve only been dating what, a few weeks?”
“A month to be exact. But you just know when it’s love.”
“Like you just knew with the other three wives.”
“I understand you’re angry, but—�
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“Don’t you get it? I’m not angry because I don’t care,” I snap. But I am angry. Not about Kitten. Not about my dad. I’m angry because the only person I can seem to think about isn’t here with me.
“I see,” his eyes probe me as if he doesn’t believe me.
“Aiden?” I hear Kenzie’s voice call out from the front door, and I realize my father must have left it open a crack.
“I’m up here,” I call back, panic surging through me. “Dad, you need to go.”
He doesn’t listen. His eyes widen, and I can see the sinister wheels in the man’s head begin to spin. He turns and waits for Kenzie to climb the stairs. I lunge forward, hoping to intercept the two, but it’s too late. Just as Kenzie crests the top of the stairs, my dad is waiting there with an extended hand.
“Walter William Calloway,” he announces with pride. “I’m Aiden’s father, and you are?”
Her mouth opens as her hand meets his, but her words are caught inside her. Trapped by the shock played across her face. I glide into position, taking Kenzie’s hand and guiding her toward the kitchen and away from the man I have heavily painted as a monster to her.
“This is Kenzie,” I fill the empty silence, not willing to give him her last name.
She peers up at me in disbelief, then finds her voice. “So nice to meet you.” I can see in her eyes she has a thousand questions.
“And you are what exactly to my son?” My dad bluntly asks, staring directly at Kenzie.
She looks back to me, unsure how to respond.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I confirm for him as much as myself.
“Really?” he is delighted with the juicy information. “How did you two meet?”
“Did you need something else?” I interject, impatiently.
“Oh come on, humor an old man.”
“Don’t play like you’re simple or feeble,” I warn him.
“I never said I was either, but I am your father,” he warns me.
“Only by blood,” the back and forth sets Kenzie’s head on fire as she watches the exchange.
“Blood is all that matters in my book.” He glares back at me.
“So we’re done here?” I take a step toward him, prepared to physically toss him out if I must.
“Just who do you thin—” he starts.
Kenzie yells from behind us as she sees the increasingly heated exchange. “I was his assistant.”
When I look back at her, ready to scold her for telling him anything about us, I see the deer in headlights look she has, and all I want to do is hold her. I quickly move back to her side, creating as much distance between the old man and myself as possible.
My father laughs a low and growling chuckle. “Is that right? My son has a thing for his assistants, I suppose. Though my second and third wives were once my secretaries, so he doesn’t come by it strange, I’ll give him that.”
“Good to know,” Kenzie nearly snarls and I see the fear has left her eyes. The fire is back, and I can only grin because I know the beast of a woman that I love so much is back.
“So you both got back today?” he asks.
“You don’t have to answer him,” I tell her.
“No,” she says boldly, never breaking eye contact with him. “It’s fine. I came back a few days ago.”
“Oh yeah?” He’s a master at smelling blood in the water.
“I have a friend who was in an accident. I came back early to make sure he was all right.” She doesn’t waver in her resolve, and I can’t help thinking how badly I want to kiss her right now.
“Oh my, I hope everything was all right.” His response lacks any form of sincerity.
“He’s surrounded by people who love him, so I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I feel her hand slip into mine, and she squeezes me gently. There she is, the woman I was so afraid stayed in Africa. She’s right here next to me. I can’t quit watching her.
“And how did he feel when you told him about my son?” My father asks.
“Excuse me?” Her expression shifts, confusion climbing its way across her features. Her grasp on my hand loosens.
My father nods. “Yes, you said him. I can only assume one would not fly halfway around the world to check on a friend unless it were a very important friend. Perhaps an ex-lover? And I was just curious, how this friend took the news of your involvement with my son. It must have been hard for him.”
It feels like my heart is pounding so hard it may jump out of my chest. There’s a screaming match in my head now. One part of me is telling me to throw this bastard out into the street where he belongs. The other wants to know the answer to his question.
Kenzie looks at me, her lip trembling, then back at my father before she shifts her gaze to the floor. “Well, I haven’t exactly told him yet.”
“Oh, really?” My father delights in what he was already all too certain the outcome to his question would be. Like I’ve said before, the man thrives on pain and suffering. “Son, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m going to!” She exclaims defensively. “He’s just been so sick, there hasn’t been a good opportunity to—”
“No, of course not.” My father’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. I would intervene except it feels like I have just been punched in the gut. “Well, Kitten is waiting for me in the car, so I really must go.”
“Kitten?” Kenzie whispers to me.
I shake my head. “Long story.”
He turns and moves toward the steps, “Oh! I almost forgot. Kitten and I have been talking a lot, and well, she’s helped me to see that in life it’s best to forgive and move on.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap, lunging in his direction.
He moves swiftly down a couple of steps before stopping and finishing his thought. “I’m dropping the civil suit against the Anderson family.”
“What?” My father has never committed a kind act in his life. There has to be another reason.
“Kitten really wants you to be at the wedding. And well, if it means so much to you that those—” he pauses to think of the most callous word he can, “criminals not pay for what they did to our family, then so be it.”
“Wait.” I shake my head. “So if I don’t come to your wedding, the one where you know, you’re marrying my ex-girlfriend, then you will still proceed with the case?”
“Well, of course. If we can’t make up, then there’s no reason not to make them pay for what they’ve done.”
“Will you stop saying that?” I shout thrusting my fists into my thighs. “Dale went to jail because he tried to help mom.”
My father sighs, “I know that’s what they brainwashed you to think, but son—”
“Stop,” I don’t yell this time. I learned a long time ago there was no reasoning with this man. I have no idea why Kitten wants me to attend the wedding, but if it means saving the Andersons any more pain, I will do it. “Draw up a binding agreement that says you will never have any further interaction with that family again, and I’ll come.”
“Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses,” he baits me, but I refuse to bite.
I stand at the top of the stairs, watching my father walk out the front door, wishing it would be the last time I ever had to see him.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” I REALIZE I’m whispering even though Aiden’s Dad has already left.
“That piece of work was my father you’ve heard so much about,” Aiden growls. He’s still standing at the top of the steps, staring at the door his dad just exited from. I move in behind him placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.” There’s no thought of Ben or the mess I left back at the hospital. There’s only Aiden and me here, and alone with him all I can remember are the feelings I have for this man who broke down walls I never knew I was hiding behind.
His eyes snap up to meet mine. There’s hurt behind them, and I instinctively pull my hand away. Stumbling back a few steps, I catch myself on one of the brick pillars.
“What are you sorry for?” There’s so much anger in his question.
I shake my head, confused. “What? I just mean I’m sorry you have to deal with your dad. Are you okay?”
He laughs, crossing my path, retrieving a glass from a shelf, and filling it with cold water from the faucet. “It’s not anything new.”
“I mean about the Kitten thing,” I clarify, approaching the opposite side of the kitchen island and lean against the concrete counter.
“Some of us actually mean it when we say we’re over our ex,” his words slice through me like a sword through rotten fruit.
“Oh—wow,” I gasp. I close my eyes, focusing on the memories of Aiden and Africa. He just got a gut punch from his dad. He doesn’t mean this, I tell myself. I picture him as a child, growing up alone, desperate for someone to genuinely love him. Lost.
“What do you expect me to say, Kenzie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was my father right when he said Ben doesn’t even know about us?” I look up to Aiden’s wide eyes, expecting them to soften when he saw mine. But they don’t; instead his jaw tightens, and his gaze narrows.
“I need you right now,” I whisper.
“What? You need me? I needed you. I needed you to take us seriously.”
“How can you say that? Of course I take us seriously,” I cry. I feel like I’m losing my mind, the world spinning out of control all around me.
“Then why didn’t you tell your ex-boyfriend about us?” he asks curtly.
I grip the counter top, begging it to not let me down. I need something in the world to hold me up at this moment, and if I can’t rely on Aiden, then I will rely on myself. Taking a deep breath I stiffen, pushing myself back upright. Staring him in the eyes, I firmly defend myself. “I haven’t had a chance.”
“From what I’ve gathered, you’ve been with him every second you can for days—” he watches my eyes, and I can see the moment he recognizes his statement as truth. Tossing a hand up in the air, he slaps the edge of the counter. “Damn it, I am such an idiot.”
“You’re not.” I realize I’m crying. “If you’d let me explain.”
He shakes his head wildly. “No, it’s not your fault. You told me when we were in Africa. Before we ever got together, you said you were in love with him.”
