“What’re you smiling about?” Wren whispered as he kissed my cheeks playfully.
“You.” I pulled him in for a hug, resting my head lightly on his shoulder.
“What about me?”
“I’m happy I’m here,” I said.
I studied the wall of shoes, knowing I’d never be anything like Wren’s mother, but also knowing he was happy about that. Wren wasn’t the typical rich kid. He didn’t display his fortunes on his wrist or his body. He wore basic t-shirts; his watch cost him only twenty dollars. When people walked into his apartment and commented on his luxurious decor, he didn’t brag about it, he changed the subject. Even if he was a product of two very rich parents, he refused to let it define him.
Wren broke our embrace to look at me. His expression was of complete surprise, and he narrowed his eyes, waiting for me to elaborate on what I had said.
“What? I’m serious!” I lightly pushed him away, causing him to step on the glass vase that had fallen during our quickie.
“Fuck!” Wren screamed, holding his injured foot in his hand and trying his best to balance on one leg.
“Omg!” I jumped down, wishing I hadn’t taken my shoes off at the front door. I bent down to examine the vase and saw that only part of it had chipped off...and that small shard was now in Wren’s foot. “Baby, are you okay? How can I help?”
His breathing was heavy and his eyes were closed as he cradled his foot in his hand. Knocking on the closet door alerted us both that Wren’s mother was standing right outside. Being caught during sex was never something we cared about until today. First Porter and now his mother. I stifled a laugh, trying my best to hold in every sound so as to not be found out.
“It’s okay, Mom!” Wren called out.
“What are you doing in there? Is Kingsley in there?” Mrs. Kavanagh questioned, trying to turn the doorknob.
“Yes, I was helping her unpack,” he lied, trying to hold in his laughter. He continued standing on one leg, biting his lower lip to fight off the pain.
“Helping her unpack?” Mrs. Kavanagh’s voice told us she didn’t believe a word her son had told her. “Please unlock this door. There’s something I need in there.”
I looked from Wren to the door and I’m pretty sure my eyes were as big as a cartoon character’s.
“Mom, just one second!” Wren demanded.
His patience was waning, and I felt awful for pushing him. He tried maneuvering past the vase and onto a safe part of the carpet. There was an ottoman on one side of the island, and he slowly sat down, keeping his foot elevated. I kneeled down in front of him, carefully placing his heel on my leg.
“Careful!” he cried.
“I’m being careful!”
“Wren, can you please unlock this door right now!” Mrs. Kavanagh ordered.
“Mom, leave us alone!”
I closed my eyes and bit down on my tongue. This was not the right time to laugh out loud. I’m pretty sure if I had, Wren’s mother would insist I stay in the maid’s quarters.
“I know what you’re trying not to do right now, Kingsley,” Wren warned. “Stop it.”
Mrs. Kavanagh finally stopped trying to turn the doorknob, and once I was convinced she was gone, I stood up to get dressed, forgetting Wren’s foot was resting on me.
“Fuck! Kingsley!” he yelped.
“I’m sorry! I forgot!”
I really wanted to tell him to stop being such a baby. It was a tiny piece of glass, but he was acting like he’d just been shot. I inspected his foot, pressing down lightly on parts of his toe.
“Careful,” he hissed.
“If you keep telling me to be careful, I’m going to do the opposite.”
Wren glared at me, but continued scrutinizing my prodding. When I found the glass and tried squeezing it out, you’d have thought that Wren was going through labor. I shushed him, telling him to hold on to my shoulder if he needed to. After many seconds of listening to Wren cry for help, the glass was finally out. I almost expected him to cry out for his mother, and when he didn’t, I smiled, knowing that he wasn’t that kind of man.
“There,” I said, holding out the tiny shard in my hand. “Don’t ever say I never did anything for you.”
Wren shook his head and pulled me into him. “Thank you.”
Our kiss only lasted for five seconds. It’s all I would allow, because with him, a kiss could quickly turn into way more. “Your mother is waiting for us.”
Wren rolled his eyes and stood up, carefully testing his foot on the ground. “Good job, Nurse Kingsley. Next time, you should be in uniform.”
For three weeks, I’d been telling the Hendersons that I’d been tutoring younger kids at the library. The lie was able to get me out of the house by 7:30 each morning, and I wouldn’t return until six. Now, my morning meals consisted of breakfast foods I’d never thought I’d be able to try—eggs, pancakes drizzled with sweet maple syrup, crispy bacon and hash browns so good, I could have them for every meal. Eating with the Hennings every morning was like something out of a fairytale. They talked to each other at the table—about everything—without yelling. Porter and I sat side by side, and sometimes he’d reach under the table and hold my hand.
This morning, as I was sitting in my seat, as Porter called it, Mr. Henning was telling us all a funny story. As I listened, my gaze fell on each of their faces. Porter’s mother was laughing along, patting Mr. Henning’s back as he told his story. Porter focused all of his attention on his father, the look of adoration in his eyes so evident. For once, I felt like I was a part of something. Rather than ignoring me, which is what I was used to, Porter’s family engaged me into their conversations each day. They always asked me my opinion on things I had no clue about, like what I thought of the latest blockbuster or how I felt about Broadway musicals, but I tried giving my opinion without giving away the fact that my life experience was limited. This family actually liked having me around.
“And then I said, well if you’d like, when I remove your father’s yucky liver, we can keep it in a jar for your nightstand!” Mr. Henning recounted, laughing.
“Christopher, I’m sure the kids don’t need to hear that!” Mrs. Henning scolded.
Porter continued laughing along with his father, while I pictured what a yucky liver must look like. I imagined it looking like a piece of overcooked steak, and I must have displayed my repulsion because Mr. Henning asked me why my face suddenly turned green.
“Did I upset you, Kingsley?” he asked with a look of concern.
“Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “No, sorry. I was actually just imagining a piece of overcooked meat and it sort of grossed me out.”
My comment almost made Mrs. Henning spit her orange juice out. She slapped her hand over her mouth almost immediately, her eyes glossing over from restraint. Porter leaned in toward me, laughing harder after seeing the display his mother had made.
“Oh wow, Kingsley. You have quite an imagination!” she exclaimed, wiping off her mouth with the napkin from her lap.
“All right, time for me to head off.” Mr. Henning stood from his chair, placing his napkin on the table. “Pretty soon, you two will be back at school. Only a little over a month until you’re freshmen!”
Porter and I looked at each other and grinned. His smile showed that he was excited. Mine showed that I was afraid. Just the thought of entering high school made me feel sick to my stomach. My classes would be bigger. There would be more kids ignoring me and doing everything they could to avoid getting me as a partner. The thing that made me the most anxious was lunch time. I wouldn’t be able to eat with Mrs. Wilkinson anymore. I wasn’t sure if I’d get lucky enough to have the same lunch period as Porter, and even if I was, I didn’t know if he’d even want me around.
“Aren’t you looking forward to it, Kingsley?” Mrs. Henning’s voice broke into my thoughts and they all stared at me, waiting for me to answer.
“Um, well, yeah. A little bit,” I replied, disguising the fear
in my voice.
“Well, I know I am! Football and lacrosse. And the teachers won’t treat us like little kids anymore!” Porter raved.
As soon as school would start, Porter would forget all about me. He’d start playing sports and paying attention to the prettier girls. He’d go back to ignoring me. Who was I to think that Porter would actually want to date me once high school started?
Porter touched my knee under the table and I calmed the smallest bit. Each of his touches were always superior to the last. I looked up at him and smiled, still hiding my dread.
Once Mr. Henning left for work, Mrs. Henning began clearing the table. She informed us of her morning schedule, as usual, and told us that we were free to shop around the city if we’d like. Then she left the kitchen to get ready, leaving Porter and alone. We hadn’t been together since the night before, and I was dying to kiss him. It had been exactly fifteen hours since his lips were on mine, and the eagerness was building quickly. I leaned into him, and when he turned away, every ounce of self-doubt resurfaced. It took at least two weeks for me to become completely comfortable around Porter and his family, but just one rejection for it to vanish.
I looked at the ground, trying my best to conceal my sadness.
“Hey,” Porter said, grabbing my hand. “I just...I want to ask you something.”
When I peeked back up, Porter’s face had become a puzzle that I couldn’t solve. His eyebrows were pulled together. His frequent smile was replaced with an uneasy gaze. Our eyes met and my stomach clenched tightly, making me wish I hadn’t eaten so much.
“Oh. Okay. What would you like to ask me?” I looked back down at our hands. Our fingers were entwined, and it was in the way he ran his thumb across my knuckles that I knew I had nothing to be afraid of.
“Okay. So, we’ve been hanging out a lot lately. Right?”
A smile eased onto my face. His voice was shaky, like he was nervous to let the words out. His thumb continued to linger on my skin, touching my knuckles, racing across my palm, moving over my wrist.
“Right. So, here’s my question.” Porter licked his lips, then continued. “I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend.”
“Yes!” I spit out, not caring that I wore my enthusiasm proudly. I’d been waiting an entire year to hear those words leave his mouth. He wanted me to be his girlfriend!
“Really?” Porter sounded surprised and his big blue eyes opened wide. They were the same color as the ocean, and if I knew how to swim, I’d jump right in without even holding my nose.
“Yes!” I repeated.
Fifteen hours and five minutes was a long time to wait for another kiss, but as Porter’s lips met mine, I realized that I would have waited an entire lifetime and then some.
Dinner was being served in the Kavanagh house, and as I took my seat at the grand table, I couldn’t believe how much silverware sat in front of me. Four forks, three spoons, and two knives. I had no idea which fork to use with what, and I’m pretty sure Mrs. Kavanagh was using this as some sort of test. I mean, who really sets out this much silverware for a normal meal?
“Wren,” I whispered, poking him in the side.
“What?” he whispered back.
I scooted my chair closer to his and quietly spoke. “What’s this fork for?” I pointed to the fork centered above the dinner plate.
“Kingsley, do you need help figuring out the silverware? It must be a shock seeing all of it set out like this,” Mrs. Kavanagh’s brazen voice cut in.
For one second, I allowed steam to fly out of my ears before turning to her with a polite smile. “I think I can figure it out, but thank you.”
“That’s wonderful,” Evelyn praised.
“Mom, where’s Dad?” Wren cut in.
“He should be coming down soon. The urgency at the studio couldn’t wait, I guess.”
Her annoyance came through loud and clear. I looked to Wren to see if he also noticed something was going on. He was looking at his mother in a way I’d never seen him look at anyone. His eyes told me that he was concerned. His mouth revealed that he was sad for her. I was tempted to hug him, but thought that Mrs. Kavanagh would deem it impolite to show affection at the dinner table.
“What are we having tonight, Mom?” Wren asked, obviously trying to suffocate the awkwardness in the room.
In an effort not to make eye contact with Evelyn, who was making me more and more uncomfortable, I took my time looking around the dining room. It was exactly how I imagined—excessive. Unlike the other rooms, though, this one seemed to have the most personal touch. Instead of just looking like an art museum, there were personal belongings left on the open surfaces. Family pictures sat atop the built in shelves, white floor candles lit up each corner of the room. The walls were kept white, with two large mirrors on each side of the window. The dining table looked like it might have been carved by Michelangelo, with intricate legs and matching chairs. The white lace tablecloth protected the expansive table and gave the room a more expensive flair. There were two very large chandeliers hanging above the table, with crystal beads dangling from the bulbs. For some reason, this room had white carpet, which didn’t make sense to me since I could see the most messes happening here, especially while I was a guest.
“We’re having poached lobster,” Evelyn answered. “You do eat seafood, right, Kingsley?”
Her eyes fixed on mine and I knew in that moment that I had to beat her at her own game. Repress all of my real emotions toward her and stay calm. What I really wanted to do was ring her neck, but then she would win.
“I love seafood,” I said, wishing I hadn’t filled myself on it earlier.
“Good,” she said as she tapped her fingers on the table. “I’m going to go check on your father.”
The moment Wren’s mother left the room, I turned to him. “Your mother hates me.”
“Kingsley, stop it,” he snapped. “She’s testing you. She’s done it to every girl I’ve ever brought home. Please, just stay cool. I can’t have you two at each other’s throats this entire trip.”
“I’m not at her throat, though I’m tempted to be,” I confessed. “Wren, she clearly thinks I’m low class.”
“She does not. Like I said, she’s testing you, seeing if you’re strong enough to stand up for yourself. She’s told me ever since I started dating that she wanted me to end up with someone strong. You are that girl, you just need to show her.”
His words sunk in. I was strong. I knew that. But was I strong enough to stand up to his mother without strangling her in the process? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure if this is what I signed up for. I wanted Wren, yes, but if were to spend the rest of my life with him and have to deal with his condescending mother the entire time, I don’t know it would be worth it. I definitely wasn’t strong enough to bite my tongue for the rest of my life. I’d done that too much as a child.
“Kingsley, please just try,” Wren pleaded.
Before I could answer, his mother walked back into the room with Mr. Kavanagh. When I looked at him, it was like seeing Wren as an older man. Same deep, brown eyes, same strong jaw. His hair was black with sprinkles of gray. He was clean-shaven, and I imagined how sexy he’d look with a beard. If I were still in high school, he would have been someone I’d gone after. His masculine presence was powerful and it was hard to turn my eyes away.
When I was in eleventh grade, I dated a forty-year-old man. He knew my age. He knew what I wanted. He gave me everything I asked for, and always understood when I told him not to talk. I ignored my issues with classmates and teachers by having as much sex as I could. The man I dated wanted the same thing and our setup was perfect. Until his wife found out.
From that moment on, I only dated unmarried men. I guess you could say I calmed down a little bit.
“You must be the girl that’s bewitched my son,” Mr. Kavanagh said as he walked toward me.
I noticed how much stronger his accent was compared to his wife and son’s. I knew that he visited
South Africa often because Wren’s grandmother still lived there, so it must have helped in keeping it prominent.
I stood up and shook his hand, feeling a bit weak in the knees from his firm handshake. His grey dress shirt was tucked into a pair of black trousers, but to make the outfit a bit more casual, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving a hint of skin exposed.
“Nice to meet you,” I said nervously.
“Likewise.”
His eyes weren’t as dark as Wren’s, but they were just as telling. Looking into them, I knew he was bothered by something. He dropped my hand and greeted his son in a warm embrace, whispering something in his ear. Wren looked up and smiled in my direction and I had a feeling the secret was about me.
Once we were all finally seated, dinner was served. The poached lobster sat on a bed of finely cut vegetables and I was surprised at the rumble in my stomach after smelling the feast. I glanced at Wren’s plate, waiting to see which of his forks he’d pick up.
“Kingsley, we’re so happy to have you here,” Mrs. Kavanagh said with an artificial smile.
“I’m super happy to be here.” My reply might have been a bit over the top, and I knew that as soon as Wren scowled in my direction.
“So, Kingsley, tell us about yourself,” Mr. Kavanagh suggested. “Our son has kept you very private.”
My attention was on Wren’s hands, watching as he chose the second fork to the left of his plate. I followed his lead and began picking at the lobster.
“There’s not much to tell,” I said, putting a bird-size bite of the food in my mouth. “I’ve lived in Brooklyn all my life.”
“Do you live close to Wren?” Mrs. Kavanagh asked, taking a sip of her red wine.
“He’s not too far from me.” I had a feeling Wren didn’t let his parents know that I had practically lived with him for the past few months.
“That’s good!” she exclaimed. “Wren used to have a thing for dating girls that lived in every state but his own.”
In Control (The City Series) Page 12
