by M. S. Parker
But I didn’t want any of this if she wasn’t ready for it.
I was on my way back downstairs with my gifts when a memory came to me, so sudden and clear that I stumbled. I barely managed to keep from going down face-first, but I didn’t pay attention to the near-spill. I was concentrating too hard on what I’d remembered, desperate not to lose it.
A conversation between my grandparents about my parents. Those had been few and far between even when Grandma Olive had been alive. I hadn’t realized I’d overheard anything important until this very moment. I must have been walking by their room for some reason or another and caught my mother’s name.
“We could have stopped this, Olive,” Grandfather said. “That night he brought her here to meet us, we should have told him that we wouldn’t allow the relationship to progress any further.”
“My dear,” Grandma Olive’s voice was soft, “do you really think that would have done any good? We, of all people, should understand that when a Hunter finds his other half, nothing will keep them apart. He’ll risk everything to be with her. Just like you did with me.”
“Slade, are you okay?” Cai asked as I lingered at the top of the stairs, trying to remember more.
I gave my head a shake. “I don’t know if it’s us being together or the stories you and Jax told, but I have the oddest feeling that I know what happened next with our parents.”
Cai’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought you didn’t remember much about Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t,” I said, still thinking hard, trying to make more of their words come to the surface. “But I think I overheard our grandparents talking about the first time they met Mom. That’d have to be the Christmas Eve party that Dad invited her to, right?”
Cai headed toward the door. “Come on, let’s get everyone else together and see if we can figure it out.”
I followed my brother down the stairs, half of my mind still in the past. I hoped I’d have something of my own to share, but the part I kept coming back to was my grandma’s comment about how when a Hunter fell in love, he’d do anything to be with the person he loved. That’s how I felt about Cheyenne, and I already knew I’d do anything to keep her.
Even if it meant holding off on my proposal to give her more time to decide what she wanted from life.
As soon as Cai announced that I’d remembered something about our parents’ courtship, however, I had to put aside my own feelings and focus on the memory. I wasn’t the only one hungry to know more.
Cheyenne curled up next to me, and I wrapped my arm around her even though we both knew that I was the one who needed the physical contact more than her. She grounded me in a way that nothing and no one ever had before.
I began with the same thing I’d told Cai, and before I’d finished the sentence, the room was silent save for the fire, and everyone’s attention was on me.
“Dad brought Mom to the house without telling anyone he had a date…”
Sixteen
Ct
Evening, December 24th, 1984
New York City
I couldn’t believe it. I was actually looking forward to my parents’ party. That hadn’t been the case since I was a kid, and even then, I’d only enjoyed the parties because I got to stay up later than my usual bedtime. Tonight, I had only one thing on my mind. Most guys would’ve been petrified at the thought of their parents meeting their girlfriend, but I couldn’t wait to introduce Abigail to my parents.
Okay, I was a little nervous about how they might react to the fact that we’d only met yesterday, but it wasn’t like she was a stripper or something. She was a nursing student at NYU who did volunteer work. I could honestly say that she wasn’t pursuing me for money. She had no clue that my family was rich, though after tonight, I had no doubt she’d figure it out.
I kept repeating all of this as I walked up the stairs to Abigail’s dorm room. I loved my parents, and I didn’t doubt that they loved me, but I wasn’t naïve about their expectations of me either. They still believed I would soon get tired of journalism and go work with my dad, and with that came the responsibility of portraying the right image to society. Which meant being attached to the right people.
I stopped at the door and counted to five before knocking. No more worrying over what my parents were going to think. If they couldn’t see how special Abigail was, then that was something they’d have to learn to deal with, because I didn’t intend to give her up.
“Hi, CT,” she said as she opened the door.
The first thing I registered was the smile lighting up her face. Then I saw the rest of her. A simple, stylish dress of green velvet clung to every curve without being obscene. The cut was entirely modest, and somehow that made her even more attractive. Part of me wanted to tell her to forget the party. We’d stay in and spend our time wrapped up in each other, whether figuratively or literally.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, reaching for her hand. When I kissed her knuckles, she blushed, reminding me of how her skin had flushed last night when we’d been in the car. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, I wondered how far that blush would go.
“You clean up well,” she replied, giving my fingers a squeeze before releasing me. “Did you want to come in?”
“Do you want me to?”
An awkward pause hung between us for several seconds, long enough for me to think that I’d made a mistake coming here, asking her to come to this party with me. I was still trying to figure out the best way to break the silence when she did it for me.
“My place is a mess. If you don’t mind, we can go straight to your party.”
I nodded. “Grab a coat. It’s cold out there.”
She smiled at me, warming me straight down to my toes. “Always looking out for me.”
It should have been strange that barely twenty-four hours had set up ‘always,’ but somehow it wasn’t. With anyone else, all the things I’d felt since I’d seen her scarf catch fire would have terrified me. With her, I simply wanted more.
I held out my arm, and she took it, letting me lead her down the three flights of stairs to the lobby. I’d rented a car for us since I hadn’t wanted to make her walk or ride public transportation in a nice dress and heels. I could have asked my parents to send a car, but that wasn’t how I wanted her to find out about who my parents were. Still, I knew I had to tell her before she met them.
I waited until we were halfway there to bring it up. “Remember how you asked me about having a house in the Hamptons?” I glanced her way, and she nodded. “I don’t. I was an NYU student, and I have a place in the city. My parents, however, do have a house in the Hamptons. A big one. Not as big as our family home in Boston, but big enough.”
She blinked, turning more fully toward me. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re rich?”
I allowed myself a half-smile. “I’m not. My family is.”
“You’re sounding pretty insistent on the distinction between you and your family.” Her voice was mild, impossible to read.
“It’s a distinction a lot of people don’t see,” I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter, hoping I could explain this right. “I grew up with Hunter Enterprises looming over me. Everyone expected me to make that my life too, but it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“How did your parents take that?”
“They weren’t happy about it, and I don’t think they’ve really accepted it, even now, but it’s better than it was when I went off to college.”
“They didn’t disinherit you or something like that?”
I shook my head. “No, they didn’t cut me off or anything so final. They helped with college, that sort of thing, but I work too.”
“You didn’t tell me this yesterday.”
“People can get weird when they know my family has money.” I waited to hear if my omission would ruin things, but she smiled at me.
“I get it. Sometimes, it’s difficult for people to look past their perceptions and biases.”
&
nbsp; I reached over and took her hand, my skin humming where it touched hers. She didn’t need to say it for me to know that we were in this together. She wasn’t going to leave me hanging tonight, and she wasn’t going to suck up to my parents because she knew who they were now. It was the best start I could hope for.
My parents were generous donors to various museums and art galleries in both New York and Boston, and every Christmas Eve, they chose one of the buildings to host their party. This one was smaller than ones in the past, but the sculptures and artwork inside were beautiful.
Not as beautiful as Abigail though. Half the men in the room had been watching her since we’d arrived a few minutes ago. Now, as we approached my parents, even more eyes turned our way.
“Chester.” My mother saw me first and stepped around the governor who was still talking to my father.
“Mother.” I leaned down to let her kiss my cheeks the same way she always had. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She patted my cheek, and I managed not to roll my eyes.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Abigail Slade, my date tonight.” I reached back to take Abigail’s hand. “Abigail, my mother, Olive Hunter.”
“Mrs. Hunter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Abigail was polite as she held out her hand to greet my mother.
“I’m surprised you made it tonight, Chester,” my father cut in with his hand out. “No big stories for you to be chasing?”
“Not tonight,” I said, forcing my teeth not to grind. “Father, this is Abigail Slade. Abigail, my father, Manfred Hunter.”
“Hello.” He shook her hand politely enough, but it was clear that was all he was being.
Which was pretty much what I’d expected, honestly.
“That’s a lovely dress.” Mother offered a smile with her compliment.
“Thank you.”
The small talk went back and forth between the two as Father and I awkwardly stood at their sides. Usually, during conversations that involved someone more than just the two of them, my parents worked in tandem, but the problem here was that my father and I hadn’t had anything to talk about in a long time. He didn’t understand my chosen profession, and I didn’t understand why he placed such an importance on the family business. It wasn’t like it was anything world-changing.
When he cleared his throat, I knew the conversation was coming to an end.
“While it’s been good talking to you, Miss Slade, we need to see to our other guests as well. Enjoy the remainder of your evening.”
And with that, he took my mother’s elbow, and the two went on their way. I didn’t bother to watch them go. Father had been telling the truth that they were going to talk to their other guests. That was their thing. Somewhere nearby were guests far more important than us.
“That went pretty much how I expected,” I said. “Come on, let’s get something to drink.”
“Um, I’m only nineteen,” Abigail said, cheeks turning pink. “The drinking age went up to twenty-one, remember?”
“Then we’ll gorge ourselves on food and sparkling cider instead,” I said, running a hand down the soft velvet of her arm. “I don’t want to be accused of corrupting the innocent.”
As we headed over to the elaborate buffet, I slid my arm around her waist. My heart gave an unsteady thump when she leaned into me, and I accepted the fact that, despite the short amount of time I’d known her, I’d fallen head-over-heels in love with Abigail Slade.
Seventeen
Abigail
Evening, December 24th, 1984
New York City
This was not at all how my life was supposed to go. Sure, I’d toyed with the idea of getting married, but it had been something in the far-off future, not really on my radar yet. I never imagined that it was because I hadn’t met the right man until a stupid party in the Hamptons.
I kept telling myself that it was crazy to think this way. Aside from the fact that it’d probably scare him away, I couldn’t possibly know what I wanted from whatever this was between us. I was practical. I believed in logic and science. Other women could have flights of fancy when it came to relationships and love. Not me.
Why, then, did my heart feel like it was about ready to explode when all he’d done was take my hand? How could I tell myself that this wasn’t racing forward, threatening to hurtle me off a cliff when I’d been ready to have sex with him after knowing him for only a few hours? And in a car, for that matter. Everything I’d ever believed told me that this was impossible, but everything I was feeling said that this was real.
“Are you all right?” CT asked, his voice gentle as he leaned closer to me.
I read the concern in his eyes, on his face, and knew that he didn’t think I was ill. He was worried that meeting his family had freaked me out. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they thought I was anything more than a date for tonight, but I certainly wasn’t going to allow myself to believe anything other than the same thing. I would make no assumptions, hold no expectations.
“I’m well, thank you,” I said with a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure? I know this can be a lot to take in, especially when I didn’t warn you ahead of time…”
I placed my hand on his cheek, effectively stopping what I was sure would’ve ended up being an apology for bringing me here in the first place. It seemed the confident young man who’d bordered on being cocky wasn’t as sure of himself all the time as he pretended to be.
“I’m fine. I promise.” I met his gaze with a steady one of my own. “If I wasn’t, I’d tell you. Now, what do you say we check out the dessert table?”
He smiled, those beautiful pale blue eyes of his lighting up. I liked to think I wasn’t a shallow person, but I couldn’t deny how insanely hot CT was. Most of the women here had been alternating between checking him out and shooting daggers at me, even though the majority of those women had been closer to his mother’s age than his own. He was either oblivious or used to the attention because he didn’t acknowledge any of it.
“Desserts. You’re talking my language.” He rested his hand at the small of my back and steered us through the crowd toward the table weighed down with all sorts of fancy sweets, all of which were barely a mouthful.
“They almost look too pretty to eat,” I commented as I took in the array of tarts, truffles, and cheesecakes. Cookies, cakes, and candy. Chocolates, fruits, nuts, meringue…
I felt like I’d stepped into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
“I’ve never been a fan of a lot of the fancy food served at parties like this,” CT said. “Caviar, escargot, that sort of thing, I have to choke down. But there’s always a great spread for dessert. People like this like to pretend they’re above having a sweet tooth, that a single bite is good enough, but don’t let them fool you. Most of them will make a dozen trips, taking only one thing at a time so they can appear to be all dignified while they’re secretly stuffing their faces.”
I laughed, unable to stop myself. “You seem awfully cynical about some cookies and treats.”
He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s the part people don’t really get about growing up with all this. I can acknowledge how fortunate I’ve been, but still see how fake everything is.”
I picked up something that looked like a mini macaroon. “Do you have any food allergies?”
He looked surprised before he shook his head, but not even close to as surprised as he was when I shoved the entire cookie into his mouth.
“More eating, less talking.”
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he said as he opened the passenger door for me.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I replied, carefully swinging my legs into the car, knees pressed firmly together.
He started the car almost immediately after getting in, turning the heat up full blast, but didn’t put the car in drive. “I usually get roped into a couple of these a year. I don’t really like them, but they help ke
ep my dad off my back about coming to work with him.”
I didn’t understand where he was going with this, but I kept silent as I waited for him to continue.
“I’ve never taken anyone with me, and I’ve never cared what anyone thought about my family.” He reached over and took my hand. “I wasn’t looking for this when I agreed to go with Finn yesterday. All I was hoping for was an end to him constantly trying to set me up. Maybe good conversation if I was lucky.”
“I know what you mean,” I admitted. My pulse was flying again. “I didn’t expect this, whatever this is between us.”
“I don’t think I can give it up,” he said softly. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t want to.”
“Me either.” I could barely get the words out. I’d never even considered that he might be feeling the same thing I was.
“I’ll slow down.” His thumb moved back and forth across my knuckles. “If that’s what you want. What you need. Just, please, don’t walk away.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, sandwiching his hand between both of mine, holding on as though he was the single thing that could keep me from floating away. “I feel like I’m falling, rushing headlong into something that’s going to consume me…but I’m not scared as long as you’re right there with me.”
“I am,” he assured me. “This thing between us, it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt.”
“Me too.”
He reached up to tuck some hair behind my ear. “I’m not ready for tonight to end.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Me either.”
“It’s okay if you want me to take you home. I meant what I said, about us going at your speed. But I don’t want to hide anything.” His fingers brushed across my cheek, and he waited. “Especially not when it comes to how I feel about you.”
After how hot and heavy things had gotten between us last night, I had no doubt what would happen if I told him that I wasn’t ready for us to part ways tonight either. Unless we went someplace public, CT and I would end up in bed together. I wanted that, without apology and without excuse, but I knew his honesty had to be matched with my own. If we were going to do this tonight, he had to know what to expect.
