by Brooke May
XOXO
AFTER A NEARLY two-hour meeting, Beth is all set up for her entrance into the women’s featherweight league. Her debut fight is in four months, which is plenty of time for her to get ready and the guys to condition her.
“Chamberlain!” I squeal, trying to escape his wandering hands as we walk down the hallway to the elevators. “Keep your hands to yourself.” I wave a finger in his face, his smirk and dimple in place.
“Katie,” he growls and nips at my finger. “You know you can’t wear something like this.” He waves at my outfit; a black pencil skirt with white stockings, black pumps, and a white button-down shirt. Under I have pale pink garters. “And expect me to keep my hands to myself.” He pulls me to him as we walk into the elevator.
“Keep your mauling hands off her, you brute.” Beth bats him away only to pull me into a hug. “Thank you for helping me get here,” she gushes.
“It was nothing.” I pat her back. I didn’t do it by myself. Helena, Chamberlain, and even Scott helped. “After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least I could do.”
“Give her back to me.” Chamberlain pulls me away and growls at Beth. “Mine.” I giggle and wrap my arms around his neck. His focus comes back to me. I don’t feel nearly as short in my heels. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, stud.” His lips come down and brush against mine. I barely acknowledge Beth’s groan. His mouth is hot on mine. My nails bury into his thick neck when our tongues meet, knead, and tussle together.
The elevator chimes, indicating their stop. I break away from Chamberlain, hot and heavy with lust. “You two had better get going.” I nod at the open doors and step back.
Beth steps out, but Chamberlain continues to look at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
I offer him a reassuring glance. “I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to go home, change, and run. Blow off some of the hormonal steam.”
He kisses me again as the doors close on him. “We’ll be home after a bit.”
“No rush. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Katie.” The doors close after he steps out, and I fall back against the wall. When the doors open again, it is to the ground floor, and Scott is waiting for me by the front doors. Beth and I came in my powder ball of an SUV to meet Scott and Chamberlain here.
“Ready?” I nod, feeling fatigued and really needing a good hard run to burn off some of this menstrual stress. I left my keys with Chamberlain, so he could drive home after their meeting.
“How did it go?”
I roll my neck and gaze at Scott after we get to the car. He’s grown and changed since I first met him. His younger face was rounder and is now more defined, sculpted, and angular. Like Chamberlain, he has filled out even more. I just don’t get why Beth wouldn’t just give him a chance. Scott is a great guy. “Great. Beth starts in four months.”
His eyes light up, and his face fills with glee. “I knew she would.”
“We’ll be busy, dealing with the two of them.”
Scott blows out air and waves me off. “Piece o’ cake because they fight on different nights. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” We stop at a red light and then he looks at me, well, my stomach. “That is unless C gets you knocked up by then. You won’t be doing much in that case.”
“I can still handle organizing and managing things for them if I’m pregnant, Scott.” I huff.
“Yeah, but C won’t want you stressed out while carrying his child.” The light changes, and he starts driving again. “That means I’ll have to take over managing again.”
“No, it won’t,” I grit. “I can handle everything just fine, including Chamberlain’s overprotectiveness.”
“Easy there, killer.” He laughs. “I’m just stating that C is going to go above and beyond to keep you safe.”
Nodding, I agree. “I know.” The rest of the drive is uneventful. Once Scott parks in the garage, I get out and head to the elevator to go change. “Are you coming?”
“No, I’ll be up after a bit. I need to change the oil.” He nods back at his car.
“All the money Chamberlain makes, and you still change your own oil?” I’m teasing; these two haven’t changed at all.
“Well, we are blue collar guys.” He puffs out his chest. “Need something to keep feeling manly.”
“And punching things, lifting, and fighting doesn’t do that?”
Scott points a funnel at me. “C may make a lot of money now, but he is still the same. You know this.” I nod in agreement. “Besides paying for this”—he gestures around us, meaning the warehouse—“food, clothing, and other things we normally get, he sends a lot of his money to charities. There is no changing him.”
I push the button for the third floor. “I wouldn’t want him any other way.”
Upstairs, after I change into my workout clothes, I find Fiona in the kitchen making dinner and a water bottle waiting for me.
“You know, you don’t have to cook for us all the time.” I kiss the cheek she offers me.
“I know, but I enjoy this time.” She laughs. “Plus, I have a new little one to teach all my secrets to.” She peers at me over the rim of her glasses. “I love that little girl, just as much as I love her momma.”
“I love you, too, Fiona. I’m glad we are together again.”
“Oh, I am too. I missed you so much.” She rinses off the kale before putting it into a bowl. “Having Marissa around is like déjà vu, like having a little you all over again.”
“But with attitude?”
“Yes.” She laughs again. “She most certainly got that from her daddy’s side.”
“Agreed.” I point my bottle at her. I fall into quiet thoughts about what our future children will be like.
“Don’t push it.” Fiona’s tone is stern, halting me. “It will happen when the time is right.”
It warms my heart that she knows me so well. “I know.” I lean against the counter. “Where is Marissa?” I look around and over into the living room. It is far too quiet.
“She’s still napping. So if you were planning to go for a run, you’d better go. She’ll be waking up soon.”
I slap the counter and head back over to the elevator. I put my iPod into my arm case and get my earbuds in to start the music for my run. “Cherry Bomb” by The Runaways blares in one of my ears as I get the other one set.
The elevator sways to a stop on the ground floor, and I step out and round the corner to the treadmill. Movement causes me to look up only to stop.
No way.
Seeing two people who I hoped I would never see again. In. My. Whole. Life.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Katie
MY MOTHER AND Zoey stand with their backs to me, but I know it is them. They haven’t changed in the least. They are still stiff in both their posture and their clothing. Zoey has transformed into a carbon copy of our mother.
How did they get in?
Quickly, I glance at the front doors before they see me. Someone must not have set the alarm before we all left earlier. That’s the only way they could have come in. Then I wonder where Scott is. He is probably still below us. I wasn’t upstairs long enough for him to finish with changing the oil. And even if he was done, he would probably go to his apartment to clean up.
I need to get them out of here before Marissa comes down. She likes to come down if we are down here after her naps. I don’t want them near her. My fists ball at my sides, the cool metal of my water bottle not giving way to my grip.
“What the …” I bite my lip, but they’ve heard me.
Twin chestnut heads turn in my direction. My mother’s face is pulled tight, a clear sign that she is still getting regular Botox injections. I can’t tell if she is trying to smile or glare at me.
“Katherine.” Her voice is as cold as it was the last time I heard it. It is filled with poison and falsehoods.
“Mother.” My face pinches as I try to keep my cool. I refuse to smile at her. Smiling indica
tes that she is welcome in my home, and she is most certainly not welcome.
“Now, Katherine.” Zoey steps forward in her perfectly tailored Jackie Kennedy look-a-like dress. I feel small before them in my running shoes. “Why can’t we just be civilized?” She clasps her purse in front of her.
“Get the hell out of my home. You are not welcome here and never will be.” I cock my head to the side. “How’s that for civilized?”
Mother takes a step forward. “Now Katherine, let’s take a seat, and we will talk.”
I make a point and a big show of looking around for seats. There are none; we are in a gym, after all. “Just say your piece and leave. I don’t owe you anything,” I spit, backing toward the wall and leaning against it. I stay near the elevator just in case Marissa does come down.
My mother takes a calming breath and steps closer to me. My eyes stay focused; unblinking, I’m trying my best to unnerve her, something I learned from Chamberlain. She looks away as she begins to talk. “As you have heard, your father is running for the presidency …”
“So?”
Her eyes flash to mine, but nothing she can do will scare me. “We were hoping you and your husband would show your support to your father.”
“Like anything you have done for me in the past has warranted Chamberlain and me helping you.” I can’t believe the nerve of these two. “My father must not be doing too hot in the polls,” I mutter more to myself, but the looks they exchange answers it. He’s struggling, meaning… “You came here looking for Chamberlain’s aid to get his fans onboard with his election?” I roar, pushing myself off the wall and getting up into my mother’s face. “How dare you,” I growl.
She isn’t the least bit afraid; if she is, she is hiding it well. “Don’t be absurd.” She brushes some of her dark locks over her shoulder. “We came here to deliver this.” She steps back, and Zoey hands me the prettiest and whitest envelope. “We are inviting you to your father’s benefit dinner.”
Benefit?
Really?
After I reluctantly take the envelope, my mother steps up to me again. “And I suggest you do show support or your husband’s career will come crashing down,” she hisses.
I jump back, dropping the envelope and balling my fists so tightly I feel the veins over my knuckles roll off them. “How dare you,” I grind out. I’m so angry. “How dare you try to threaten Chamberlain!” I have never been this angry in my life. “You will not touch his career, or so help me God, I will end Father’s!” I storm back into her face. “That means everything you have will be gone,” I seethe.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Zoey’s mouth opens to talk, but the chime of the elevator stops her. I try not to show myself sag with relief, hoping it is Scott, but I have no such luck.
“Mommy! Where are you?” I quickly turn and see Marissa skip over to me. I hear both my mother and sister gasp. “There you are.” She smiles, but it fades when she sees the two women standing too close to me. “Who you?”
Zoey walks around us and tries to approach my daughter. Her face is schooled to look soft, but I know better. I cut her off before she can get a single word out to my daughter. “Baby doll?” Marissa looks at me. “Go to the garage and get Uncle Scott, please? I really need his help.”
She looks back at the two women, who are her aunt and grandmother, but she will never know. Her deep blue eyes, filled with such innocence, look back up at me. “Otay.” She turns and skips back over to the elevator and gets back in.
When I hear the doors close and watch the number one fade and the ‘G’ for the garage light up, I turn back to the two of them. “You need to leave, now.”
“This isn’t over, Katherine.” Mother glares at me the best her Botox face can allow.
“Yes, it is.” I match her glare and hold it until I hear the elevator again.
“K.C.!” Scott shouts and comes running out. He sees the two of them standing not even five feet from me and forces me to step back behind him, shielding me from their venom. “You need to leave now before I call the authorities.” His voice is so strong, not forced at all. It booms off the brick walls of the gym as he glares down at the two of them.
Mother scoffs. “She’s my daughter.”
“And she’s my sister.” Scott never wavers in his overall appearance. “And this is our home, so I suggest you leave, now.”
“We were just talking.” Zoey tries to include herself in the whole thing. Of course, she can’t be left out of even an argument.
“You call threatening my husband talking?” I move around Scott to yell at them, but he grabs me and shoves me back. “GET OUT!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
Scott forces me into the elevator, where Marissa is waiting. “Go upstairs, K.C. I’ll get them to leave.” His voice is soothing. Frantically, I pick up Marissa and hold her to me.
“Just make them go away, Scott,” I whisper; he nods, pushes the button for the third floor, and turns back around as the doors close.
I will myself to come down from this rush of nerves. “Mommy?” I pull back away from Marissa’s shoulder and look at her worried expression. She’s only three years old and already is an old soul at times. “Who they?”
“No one, baby doll,” I hug her close to me again. “No one who will ever bother us again.” I pray that they never get to her.
“Otay.” I melt as her little hand starts to pet my hair in its ponytail. The doors open again, and I usher us into the house. Not letting go of Marissa, I walk into the living room and settle onto the couch to just rock her back and forth. It is more to calm me than her. Knowing that Fiona is still up here helps me, but it isn’t until the elevator chimes do I bristle again.
“She’s fine C, but you’d better get here soon.” Scott’s voice carries through the open space of the house. “Yeah, see you soon.”
“What’s going on?” Fiona asks Scott. I stay focused on nothing, staring blankly. “She came up here like a storm. Is everything all right?”
“Carol and Zoey were just downstairs,” Scott grunts.
“No?” Fiona gasps.
“I got rid of them. Chamberlain should be here soon.” Scott’s voice grows closer to me. Then the couch dips, indicating that he is sitting next to us. “You okay, lil’ bit?” I try to nod, but I’m not okay. They were in my home. “C will be here in a few.”
It feels like an eternity until Chamberlain gets here. He comes barreling into the house with Beth right on his heels until he scoops both Marissa and me into his arms. “You’re okay,” his muffled voice is the balm to my soul. “I’ve got you.” He sits in the place where he just removed me from and continues to hold us close until Marissa has had enough and scrambled out of our embrace.
“Marissa, come help me finish up dinner?” Fiona calls from behind us.
“Yes, Gramma!” She leans in and kisses my hand before running off to the kitchen.
I circle my fingers over Chamberlain’s tight skin at his neck. “How did they get in?” I can’t help how broken my voice sounds. I’m not hungry; I just want to sleep.
“I don’t know, Katie.” Chamberlain’s lips brush against my forehead with each word.
“I’m tired.” I feel completely drained. If my hormones didn’t have me messed up already, I don’t know what I would be feeling right now. My day is wrecked.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I just want to sleep.” Chamberlain rises from the couch, cradling me in his arms. He speaks to Scott, but I don’t hear it, I just feel the vibrations of his voice against his chest. He takes me up to our room and puts me in bed.
He brushes some loose tendrils of hair off my face and proceeds to take off my iPod and my shoes. He then removes his own and lies down next to me, keeping contact and holding me closely. “Get some sleep, Katie.” He kisses my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, and Marissa is safe with our family.” I nod and close my eyes.
XOXO
WHEN I OPEN my eyes, it is completely dark
in our room, and I feel a chill against my back. Instantly, I know Chamberlain is no longer in bed with me. I roll over just to feel for him, only to find cold sheets and a box?
Sitting up, I quickly turn on the lamp on the nightstand, turn, and pull the shoe box onto my lap.
Where did this come from and what’s in it?
“Chamberlain?” I call in the dark just resting past the reach of the lamp, but there is no answer. Everything is still and quiet. I glance over at the clock and see I’ve been asleep for ten hours already since it is now midnight. Looking back down at the shoe box, I call for Chamberlain again only to have the same reply, nothing.
Tenderly, I open the box. It looks worn and old. Inside is a weathered notebook along with weathered pictures. I look through the pictures first; finding many of Chamberlain and me together, some of me alone, and several of his parents, including one I’m sure was one of the last ones he took with his mom because she is lying in a bed with tubes coming out of her hand that cup the side of his young face.
I touch that picture and feel a pang of sadness. Chamberlain’s parents are missing so much of his life, including their granddaughter. I know he has albums because we have looked at them before, so I wonder why these ones aren’t in those. I set the picture aside and look at the rest of the contents. There are so many pictures of Chamberlain and me doing various things around Boston. There are some after a few of his fights when we would go to the bar, all I’ve seen before. But then there are several I’ve never seen. They look like someone else took them, and I’m guessing it was Scott.
I really need to buy another album to put these in. They don’t belong tucked away in a shoe box, but maybe the memories that all these pictures hold, the one with his mom included, caused too much pain for him. I look back in the box and nearly fall back when I see a familiar envelope sitting on top of the notebook.
My eyes never break contact on it as I set the pictures aside and pick up the envelope addressed to Chamberlain; still in the prettiest handwriting I’ve ever seen.
The last time I saw this, it hadn’t been opened yet, but now it has. I pull the delicate paper from its holder and unfold it.
