Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1)

by Rebecca Paulinyi

  “Please,” Imogen replied, drumming her fingers impatiently on the side of the armchair she was sat in. Her brain was working overtime, weighing up the pros and cons of speaking to Zach in person. ‘I’ll forgive him, I know I will. But then I love him. But then he said he couldn’t cope with me being pregnant. But he was different on the message.’

  “Everything all right?” William asked as he placed the mug in front of her, and Imogen wondered how much he really knew. She knew everyone would know at some point, but it occurred to her that Ella could have already informed the family. Was that the normal thing to do? Imogen didn’t know what normal was when it came to families. Imogen didn’t respond.

  “Sara said you split up with your boyfriend?” William said. Imogen wondered why he was trying so hard; he clearly didn’t feel comfortable talking about it.

  “How did you know that you were in love with Millie?” she asked, without a clue where the words had come from. William looked as taken aback as she did by the question, but answered anyway.

  “I just…knew. That feeling you get – well, you’ll know if you’re in love. Trust me. And if you are, then you realise it overshadows other things,” he said, tidying up a pile of magazines that had been scattered onto the floor earlier in the day.

  “With Millie…I knew not everyone liked her. I knew people were saying how different she was to my first wife. But I loved her; that was really all that mattered. Well, that and Sara liking her,” he added. Imogen had to stop herself from smirking; if William thought Sara liked Millie, he was living in a dream world.

  “Thanks…” Imogen muttered, grabbing her coffee and carelessly dripping some on the floor. She didn’t notice, however; her mind was busy making itself up.

  She knew what she was going to do: head and heart were in agreement.

  ***

  The sixteen-year-old ate dinner silently. With a family the size of the Kingsleys, at least you could be quiet without it really being noticed – kids screaming and adults arguing overshadowed silence. She bathed and put her little sister to bed for the first time in a couple of weeks too.

  The little girl was asleep before her head hit the pillow, and Imogen envied her: she wished she could fall asleep so easily. Around Abby’s neck was a gold chain Imogen had never seen before – she guessed it was something Ella had bought her. Dangling from it was a little gold key. Imogen stared at it for a moment, allowing her brain to wander.

  She sat on her bed for a few moments, and looked at the clock: seven o’clock. It was then that she caved. Had it been close to an acceptable time for her to go to sleep, she might not have done, but it wasn’t, and so she knew where she was going, what she was going to do.

  Rather than bother climbing out of her window, Imogen headed straight for the front door. It slammed behind her before there was any time for questions; she was running by the time her feet hit the pavement. It was raining, pouring down, but she scarcely noticed. Imogen ran the familiar route to Monroe Manor, through the front gate, almost slamming into the door in her eagerness.

  Eagerness was the key: it stopped her turning back, stopped her thinking about what she was doing.

  And it was then, in that precise second, with the rain crashing down over her, the door in front of her, and her heart pounding harder than it ever had before, that she realised that she didn’t care: what he’d done, what he might do – it didn’t affect her feelings, it didn’t bother her.

  She loved him.

  She could live with anything he’d said, anything people had said about him – with her past, she was hardly an angel herself – and she could live happily.

  All she knew for certain, even more so with every beat of her heart, every pulse of blood travelling at break-neck speed through her veins, was that she could not live without him. This was it – what people told of, what films portrayed: true, requited, unconditional…love. Yes, she’d said she loved him before, and at the time she’d thought she’d meant it, but it was now that she realised she couldn’t have meant it: how can you mean something if you don’t even fully understand it? And she hadn’t then – but she did now.

  Her young age, lack of experience, these were not the reasons for the intensity of this feeling, and she knew it. This was not just lust. It had been lust, yes – that first day, when she had sat next to him, and her thoughts had been dominated by his looks: that was lust. When she’d first kissed him, it was lust-fuelled, but already it was turning into something more. And now…there was lust there, of course there was, physical attraction certainly figured in love. But this crashing, crushing wave of emotion, where she knew that that there was no way she could cope if she wasn’t with him, didn’t have his voice to look forward to, or his arms to comfort her – didn’t have his calming, soothing words when things went wrong, or his dark humour that brightened up her days – why, then it would all be pointless.

  Getting through with everything she’d gone through with, putting up with the Kingsleys, spending all that time with Zach, all pointless if, after falling in love with him, she ended up breaking up with him…

  “ZACH!” It was not the only sound that rattled through Wiltshire; her fist, raining down upon the door, accompanied it. “ZACH!” she screamed once more, her brain screaming it too, not able to think about what would happen if he didn’t answer…he had to, she needed him to. She hadn’t realised it before, but somewhere along the line she’d become totally dependent on him: his life and hers, she wasn’t sure they could be separated, that she could distinguish them anymore. She needed him like she needed air to breathe – and she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  Whatever faced them in the future, she was fighting for it.

  And then the door wrenched open.

  Stood, eyes wide with surprise, looking cutely bewildered with his tousled hair, was

  Zach.

  “Can we talk?” The rain dripped down the back of her neck as Zach grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. To start with, it seemed, he had no intention of talking; his lips met hers roughly, and she kissed him back just as hungrily. Love, lust, it was all rolled into one. She needed Zach. He needed her.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his necked and wished that she never, ever had to let go. She was not going to lose him again.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, kissing her like it was the last time he ever would.

  “I know. I listened to your message, Zach, I-”

  He didn’t let her speak; his lips pressed insistently on hers, and she wasn’t about to argue. How had it only been a week and a half since they’d last kissed? It felt like it had been forever.

  She remembered now the feeling of adrenaline she got when she kissed Zach; her heart going wild, her blood pumping so hard it felt like it was fighting to escape.

  She felt…alive. The haze that had clouded her thoughts was burnt away. The sleepy stupor she’d descended into evaporated, and the reason was clear.

  Zach.

  “What’s all the-” Eve drifted down the stairs, her question answered as soon as she saw the young couple’s embrace.

  Imogen and Zach broke apart, but not by much; their lips may have been separated, but Zach’s arm was still twined around Imogen’s waist; her head was leant on his shoulder. It felt completely natural, so right – she knew she’d made the right decision.

  “Ah,” Eve said, with a grin on her face almost as wide as those on Imogen and Zach’s faces. “Well, don’t let me interrupt!” She passed by them quickly, and, hand in hand, Imogen and Zach followed her into the kitchen.

  “Coffee?” Eve asked, and both Imogen and Zach nodded.

  “We do need to talk…” Imogen stretched on tiptoes as she whispered in Zach’s ear, whilst Eve busied herself with the kettle. Zach nodded; as euphoric as they both were, there were serious matters afoot too.

  Without removing her hand from Zach’s, she took her mobile from her back pocket and began to text one-handed.

  “Better tell Ella w
here I am…sort of disappeared without a word,” she said, tapping out a quick message. Zach raised an eyebrow.

  “Since when have you two been so close?” Zach asked, and Imogen shrugged. She knew the reason, but it wasn’t something she wanted to divulge: Ella’s past was her secret. There was some sort of understanding the two had that she couldn’t quite explain.

  “See you tomorrow?” Eve asked, but didn’t wait for an answer; she disappeared upstairs, coffee in hand, leaving two mugs on the side.

  “So,” Zach said, as they both sat down on a sofa in the living room.

  “I need to tell you something – something you’re gonna get mad at. But I don’t want you to be; I just…I want honesty. Okay?” She seemed to gabble all the words out, but he heard all right; he nodded gravely, telling himself he would not overreact: he was not losing this girl in his arms again.

  “Danny…tried to kiss me last night. Nothing happened,” she was quick to interject, “but he tried.”

  Anger took over Zach’s features; the look of happiness and almost-serenity wiped away. He stood quickly, as if to run off and solve the problem immediately, but Imogen yanked his hand until he sat.

  “Don’t get mad…remember?” She kissed the hand she was holding, waiting for him to control his emotions. She realised that she could have kept it quiet, but it was naïve to think it would never get out: it was a small neighbourhood – everyone knew everything. No, she hadn’t done anything wrong – so there was no reason to lie, or keep secrets.

  They were not going to screw everything up again; she was determined.

  “I can’t just let this go,” Zach said, but Imogen shook her head.

  “Yes you can. That’s exactly what you’re going to do: we’ve got other things to sort. More important things to focus on. Please, Zach…”

  Their eyes met, and he could tell she was being serious; as hard as it was, he relaxed slightly. He was not going to lose her again – even if that meant letting Danny get away with trying to kiss her.

  “Okay,” he murmured after a few moments of silence. “Okay.” She was right; they something much more important to discuss – it was just a difficult topic to approach.

  “I want to keep the baby, Zach,” she said, fixing her gaze directly on his eyes. Her statement was direct; this time, she wasn’t taking any shit. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she should have got her fill of kissing him before bringing the subject up, just in case…

  “Okay.” His response, to put it mildly, surprised her. He sounded so certain, as though he’d been thinking about it just as much as she had.

  “Really?” Her tone was incredulous, despite her attempts to stop it being so.

  “Really.” He couldn’t help but smile a little at her surprise – although he guessed, given his previous behaviour, it was completely understandable. “It was stupid, the way I reacted before – I think everyone realised that – and I’m not going to try and excuse it. I’m not sure I can even explain. But if you’re pregnant, and you want to keep it, then that’s what we’ll do.” He smiled a little. “That doesn’t mean I’m not shit scared…” he said, and Imogen realised how much that meant, when it came from Zach Monroe. Zach, even more so than Imogen, never showed a semblance of weakness to anyone. Zach was never scared – Imogen always relied on that.

  In one way, she was even more scared, knowing that he was; in another, she felt closer to him than ever before.

  “Me too,” she said. “But it’ll be okay.” It was something she’d been telling herself for days, in an attempt to convince herself, but saying it now, aloud… it was quite easy to believe it could be true. “You ended up bringing up Eve, you can cope with a baby,” she joked weakly, and he laughed. He had no fears about Imogen’s mothering abilities – why, he’d seen her with Abby and Dana – but his own abilities, as a father? He hadn’t a clue whether he was up to it.

  “I love you, Imogen Kingsley,” he whispered, his breath reverberating softly against her left ear. She giggled slightly, sighing with contentment as she felt his strong arms wrap around her waist.

  “I love you,” she said, allowing the three-word phrase that she did like twist deliciously around her mouth, “too. More, in fact.” She smirked, knowing the reaction this would provoke, and, sure enough, he denied it.

  “Impossible.” He grinned, allowing his lips to meet hers once more, in an illustration of just how much he loved her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The April showers did not begin until the end of the first week of the month, so Eve and Imogen were able to spend some time in semi-sunlight, relaxing in the Monroes’ garden. Eve wore oversized black sunglasses that were the spitting image of Imogen’s, except in colour. Imogen’s tortoiseshell sunnies caught the light every time she looked in Eve’s direction – which was quite regularly, since the two were deep in conversation.

  “All I’m saying is…a mum. At sixteen. Doesn’t that freak you out?” Eve asked, leaning back on her elbows and facing the sun.

  “Course it does,” Imogen said. She wasn’t afraid of telling Eve that she was scared; Eve would have been able to tell even if she hadn’t said anything.

  “Is Zach not freaked out? I’d expect him to be freaking out right now. He’s-” she paused, and if her sunglasses hadn’t been hiding the emotion in her eyes, Imogen might’ve been able to notice the worry there. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Imogen and Zach to be together; it was just that, sometimes, Eve forgot that her best friend was not just dating some random guy. It was her brother they were talking about.

  “I thought his first reaction was enough freaking out, to be honest,” Imogen answered. “Are you expecting him to freak out more?”

  “Well…” Eve lay back, obviously reluctant to continue the conversation. However, Imogen was not going to let the topic lie that easily.

  “Eve…”

  “Look, don’t start panicking or anything. It’s just, well, parenting – I can’t imagine it being Zach’s thing. I mean, firstly, he’ll be eighteen when you…well, become parents: what eighteen-year-old guy wants to be saddled with a kid? No offence,” Eve added, with a glance at Imogen.

  “None taken,” Imogen answered, her terse tone contradicting the statement.

  “And…well, we haven’t exactly had the best role-models for parents, me and him,” Eve said, a softer tone to her voice now. “I don’t think he knows how to be a proper dad.”

  She sat up now, hugging her knees, as she tried to explain what she meant to Imogen. “What you’ve got to understand about Zach is that he always has to be the best.” She picked a daisy from the neatly manicured lawn and pierced the stem with her thumbnail. “Whatever he does, whatever he’s ever done, he’s always had to be the best at it, the one who knows what he’s doing, who’s in control. That’s just Zachary.”

  Gently, she threaded another daisy through the hole, and began the process again. “And, if I know my brother, and I think I do, he’s not just scared about the responsibility. Zach can handle responsibility. He’ll be worried about not being the best father. It’s not just that he’s got to be the best; he’ll want to be better than our dad. Not that that’s hard.” Her daisy threading continued; Imogen sat silently for a few moments.

  Hearing it like that…it was slightly easier to understand Zach, and why he’d reacted the way he had when she’d first told him. But then…what if he panicked again? She couldn’t cope with that. Not again. She wished Zach would explain what he was feeling to her, but knew he never would; it was lucky she had Eve, who understood him so well, better than Imogen could hope to.

  “Okay,” she finally said, slowly. “I get it. But it’s not just about us anymore.” Her hand hovered over her belly, and Eve nodded, clearly sympathetic.

  “I know, I know. I’m just explaining it to you. It’s clear he loves you – but then I knew he would from that first day. I just hope that’s enough to stop him feeling like he can’t do it.” Eve could clearly read Zach
well, but then Imogen knew that was what came from close sibling relationships. She could do the same with Abby and was sure that, once Abby was a little older, she’d be able to read Imogen too.

  Eve had been right, on that first day, about Imogen and Zach being good together. She just had to keep Zach from going to pieces over this – all whilst stopping herself from going to pieces too.

  Imogen lay back and closed her eyes unnecessarily against the sunlight. She allowed herself to drift off, feeling relatively calm, in the Monroes’ back garden.

  ***

  She awoke to the sound of Zach’s voice, and sat abruptly up. A long daisy chain was wrapped around her neck and, as she stood, it reached all the way to her waist. She looked around for the source of this new found necklace, and saw a grinning Eve. She must have got bored whilst Imogen slept.

  “All right ladies?” Zach was asking, and Imogen nodded. She propped her sunglasses on top of her head, allowing them to pull several loose tendrils back from her face.