by K. A. Tucker
“Is it serious? Like, how long have they been together? Weeks, months . . .”
“Years.” Thirteen years. With a lot of missed time to catch up on.
“Well, doesn’t that sound sweet.” Her words are in stark contrast with the way her shoulders sink with disappointment. “Guess I’d better get my nose away from that scent, then.”
I smile at her choice of words. I’m not surprised Mark is infatuated with her. Renée would be hard not to like. “How’s working with David going so far?”
“Oh.” She waves a manicured hand. “He’s a dream.” She laughs at my raised eyebrows.
“Between you and me, after what Mark told me, I was expecting a lot worse. Of course, he’s a giant man-baby, but he just wants to be taken care of. Lucky for him, I like taking care of needy people.”
“Well, then, you are a stronger woman than me, because I have no patience for that man,” I murmur, savoring the first sip of caffeine.
“I just have different aspirations, is all. Look at you! You’re gonna be runnin’ the world soon. You don’t have time for that sort of thing. But me . . . I’ve had my wedding dress design since I was seven. I’ve already got my three kids’ names picked out and the color of their nursery and I can’t wait to join the PTA. It’s my jam.” She shrugs. “This is just a job for me. A great job, don’t get me wrong! But the part I like most about it is taking care of someone and making his life easier.” She pauses and then her eyes widen. “Oh my Lord, it sounds like I’m trying to marry my boss and have his babies, doesn’t it?”
I burst out laughing. “It sounds like you know who you are and what will make you happy. I’m impressed.” Even if it doesn’t look anything like my life plan. To be honest, I don’t have names or nursery colors picked. I have “children” penciled in for my thirties—mid to late thirties, the way it’s looking now—but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. David and I had talked about starting a family, but it was always more in passing, like, “Sure, we’ll have one, eventually, when it works for us.” We were both more focused on the Calloway world—the only real thing we had in common.
I have no idea if Kyle wants children, I realize. The topic never came up at Wawa beyond talk of condoms and birth control to avoid having them. We were too young then.
But now, I’ve jumped off another cliff to be with him and I have no idea what I’ve landed in. I’m ready to hand him a key, but what kind of life does Kyle see for himself? He’s already making comments about how much I work. What if he wants a Renée?
I will never be a Renée.
“You okay, Piper?” She watches me carefully. “You literally just went from laughing to dead silent, like that.” She snaps her fingers.
“I’m fine.”
She hesitates. “Do you miss being with David?”
“No. Not at all. I was never meant to be with him.” I toy with the paper wrapping from the package. It’s foolish, but I can almost feel Kyle’s hands on it.
Speak of the devil . . . David pops his head into my office then. “Renée, I need you now.”
“And I need you now,” I demand.
“I don’t have time—”
“Two minutes.”
“She sounds like her father,” he mutters, handing Renée a folder. “Meet me in my office.”
Renée marches out, her calf muscles bulging from her high heels.
“What is it?” David asks, and he has the nerve to sound annoyed.
“What was that stunt earlier today in the lobby?” I ask calmly.
“What stunt?”
I glare at him.
“Oh, so he ran up here and cried to you? What kind of man are you with?”
“David!” I snap. “What were you trying to do?”
He begins pacing around my office, his hands on his hips. “I know I was joking around about it because it was funny at first. Shocking. It didn’t really hit me until after I got home and replayed what you said, and how you said it.” He stops in front of my desk. “You’re in love with this guy, aren’t you?”
I purse my lips.
That’s answer enough for him.
“Fuck . . .” David sighs heavily. “I guess, I don’t know. In the back of my mind I thought you’d be so focused on taking over for your dad that you wouldn’t have time to date, and then eventually you’d wake up and realize I’m the guy for you and we’d get back together. I did not see this coming. The last few days have been . . . weird for me.” He frowns as if replaying them in his head. “I almost told Kieran everything on the green today.”
“You what?” I hiss, my body going rigid, the urge to run for the lobby, to protect Kyle from what’s about to come, overwhelming.
He holds his hands in the air. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”
I sink with relief into my chair.
“So I want you to know that I’m not okay with this, and I’m probably going to be a dick every once in a while because I’m not okay with it.” He frowns. “But I won’t tell Kieran. I don’t want him to do something that would hurt you.”
My annoyance with David softens. Words like that don’t come easily for a man as self-absorbed as he is. “Thank you for the warning. But please don’t harass Kyle. It’ll make people talk.” Thank God Gus is already aware of our relationship.
“I was just letting him know that if he hurts you, he’ll have to deal with me.”
Kyle and David are the same size, but something tells me Kyle would win that fight. I bite my cheek to keep the laughter at bay. “You’re still an idiot. But that might be the most considerate thing you’ve ever said to me.”
His lips twist as his gaze drifts across the way. “Maybe I should start screwing the help, too.”
And . . . he’s back.
“I think that’s a great idea. She already has your children’s names picked out.”
“What?” Panic flashes across his face.
“I’m kidding. Now go away so I can work.”
Except now my focus is splintered between pie graphs and babies.
“Hello?” I holler, kicking the door shut and slipping off my shoes. I’m exhausted, it’s a quarter to ten, and I told Kyle I’d be home two hours ago. The kitchen and living room are empty. He’s not in our bedroom, either, I note with dismay.
I’m just about to call his phone when I catch movement on the patio.
I smile. Kyle, Ashley, and Christa are standing beneath a canopy of lights strung from every corner.
“There you are,” I murmur, wandering out to wrap my arms around his waist from behind. His cotton T-shirt is soft against my skin. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
His fingers graze mine. “That’s okay. Ash put me to work as soon as I got here.”
“It looks great.” Outdoor furniture, surrounded by gauzy curtains and tall palms, fills the formerly empty patio.
“See, Christa? Piper thinks it looks great,” Ashley says, in a way that tells me Christa’s had a few criticisms.
“We need to move that end over by a foot,” Christa directs, pointing to a far corner, waving the staple gun toward Kyle.
He shifts in my arms and leans down to kiss me. “Your dinner is probably cold by now.”
“I know. I’ll heat it up in a bit. I need to talk to you first.” I hook my finger through his belt loop and tug, leading him inside and down the hallway, all the way into my bedroom.
He smirks. “So, is talking code for—”
“Do you want to have kids?” I blurt out.
Kyle’s mouth drops open. “Uh . . .” He pushes my door closed behind us. “Eventually.”
“How many?”
He hesitates, frowning. “What’s going on, Piper? Where is this coming from?”
I sigh. “Renée.”
“Renée knows about us, too?”
“No. We were talking about life and she started talking about her three kids—”
“She has three kids? Wow. You’d never guess.”
“No! But she knows she want
s them. She’s got their names and nursery colors picked out, and everything!”
His eyebrows arch. “Renée sounds a little bit intense.”
I let go of his belt loop and begin pacing around my room. “I know. But she made me realize that here we are, falling deep and fast into this relationship. I’m ready to hand you a key after not even a week together, but I don’t really know you!” Worries that have been simmering all day bubble to the surface now, and I can’t keep the panic from my voice.
“Yes, you do, Piper.”
“I don’t, though. Not anymore. I’m not talking about the little things, like your favorite color or your favorite song, or that you broke your arm when you were six, or that you love jumping off cliffs.” All the small, seemingly important Kyle-facts that I collected over that summer. “I’m talking about the big things.”
He slides his hands into his pockets. “You know about my family. I don’t tell anyone about them, Piper.”
“Yeah, but it’s not even that. I’m talking about the things that will make or break a relationship. Things you don’t talk about when you’re sixteen and skinny-dipping and racing around in golf carts. And I am terrified that once we start finding out all those things about each other, what if we don’t work at all?” What if my mother is right?
Kyle sighs heavily. “Okay.” He reaches for the door.
My anxiety flares. “Where are you going?”
“Relax. I’ll be back in a minute. Just . . . get changed.”
I watch him stroll out the door, wondering if unloading on him like that was the best way to approach this conversation. It’s too late now.
By the time I’ve washed up and pulled on my lounging clothes, Kyle is shifting furniture around the little seating area. I catch the smell of warmed Mexican food and my stomach growls in response.
“Hang out over here with me for a while,” he beckons.
Not until I reach the armchair do I see the tattered blue sleeping bag spread out on the ground, the woven flannel interior faded. No way . . . “That’s not the same one from camp.”
“The one and only.” He smiles and drops down on his knees on one side. “Don’t worry, it’s been washed.” He holds a hand out for me.
“Who knew you were so nostalgic?”
He peers up at me, sincerity shining in his beautiful eyes. “You knew.”
I scan the leather band around his wrist, the tattoo engulfing his arm. “Yeah, you’re right.” I did know that. I settle down next to him, accepting the plate and one of two glasses of red wine. “You drink wine now?”
He chuckles. “Eat, before it gets cold again.”
I marvel at the softness of the worn flannel under my bare feet as I take a mouthful of Spanish rice and chew slowly.
“Yes, I would like to have kids.” Kyle swallows. “Eventually.”
“How many?”
“I figured I’d start with one and see how that goes. Well, unless I end up with twins right off the bat.” He eyes me warily. “Do you have twins in your family?”
I shake my head.
“Me neither. So . . . one to start. Then maybe a second, so I can pit them against each other. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“You wouldn’t do that. Well, maybe you would.” I laugh, but I don’t miss the underlying message there—he’s talking about us having kids. Together.
My heart skips a beat. Maybe I’m not crazy to have these thoughts sitting heavily in my mind so soon.
He hesitates. “What about you? Do you want kids?”
“I think so. Eventually. I just don’t know how I’m going to fit them into my life.”
I get a soft smile in return. “That’s because you don’t fit kids into your life, Piper. You fit your life around them.”
“How, though?” I push my food around on my plate with my fork. “How do I fit building a twenty-five-story condominium complex around soccer practice and school bake sales?”
“I don’t know. A supportive spouse? A nanny? Good employees?”
“Like Tripp?”
Kyle shakes his head but chuckles. “I want to knock his teeth out every time I see him. You need to get rid of him now.”
I groan. “I’m still waiting on that damn report from the phone company, and who knows if that’ll give me anything. I don’t want to talk about Tripp right now, though. But my dad . . . I think of how hard he’s worked all his life and how hard I work now, and I just don’t see how I can manage kids. As it is, I feel like a kid playing dress-up at an adult party most days. Like I don’t belong in this world.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I’ve always been afraid that someone will agree with me, that saying the words out loud will make them true.
“Security guards hear and see a lot more than people give them credit for.” Kyle leans back against one of the armchairs. “Do you know what I see when I’m in that building?”
“Old men staring at my ass?”
“Yeah, not gonna lie—I want to punch a lot of your employees out.” We share a laugh and then Kyle’s expression turns serious. “But it doesn’t happen as often as you think. More than that, I see people sitting up straight when you enter a room; I see their eyes glued to you when you speak. When I hear your name floating around, it’s said with respect.” He smirks. “Sometimes with a bit of fear.” He pushes a strand of hair off my face. “And I see a woman who has I don’t even want to know how much money to burn, busting her ass all day and coming home exhausted at night to the penthouse condo that she’s welcomed her camp friends to live in rent-free, and having conversations about kids with new assistants, and stopping to greet the old security guard at the front desk when everyone else is too busy to look up. Do you know how happy that makes Gus?”
“I’ve known him all my life, is all.”
“No, it’s because you’re still you. You’re still the same kind, generous, down-to-earth girl from Wawa who cares about people no matter where they fit. Hell, you could be sailing around in a yacht, or drinking fucking lattes in a courtyard in Paris or whatever it is you rich people do, and yet here you are, working hard doing something that’s important to you, trying to please your father, with bags under your eyes, eating takeout on a Friday night.”
“You saying I look like hell?” I tease, cutting off a sliver of the chicken enchilada.
“No, I’m saying I know you. I might not know everything you want in life, and everything that’s happened to you over the past thirteen years, but you’re still the same person in here.” His hand settles on my chest, over my heart. “The rest . . . we can figure out along the way.”
I nod, the confidence in his words a balm to my earlier panic. Panic that arose, I realize, because I want this—us—to work out so badly.
“So . . .” Kyle’s hand falls away. “We both want kids eventually. Sounds like we’re okay on that front.”
I smile, feeling foolish for how I ambushed him with the topic. Though he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. “Sounds like it.”
He taps my plate, prompting me to eat. “What else are you worried about?”
“I don’t even know. Is there, like, a checklist we should go through? I mean . . . Religious beliefs?” I throw out.
“Love is love.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Tom and Doyle forever.”
I laugh, recalling the shy and secretive counselors. “Politics?”
“I did not vote for him.”
“Same. Uh . . .” Worry laced my mood all day, but now that I’m here, talking to Kyle, I realize that I have nothing to worry about. He’s right. I know Kyle. “All-inclusive beach resort or tours? Which would you prefer?”
He frowns. “Really? That’s a relationship deal breaker?”
“It is if you expect to drag me around smelly, hot cities on all-day bus tours with strangers as a vacation.”
Kyle’s head falls back onto the chair, the jut of his throat looking especially delicious at that angle. “Well then, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say option A. W
hat else is there? Come on, ask. We’ve got all night.”
“All weekend.”
His head flops to the side. “I get you all weekend?”
“If you’re good.”
I get a cocky grin in return, his eyes alight with mischief. “When have I ever not been?”
“We’re recommending that we go with KDZ for the Marquee,” Serge says as the last slide of the thirty-minute PowerPoint pops up on the screen, stating exactly that. “The financials are competitive, KDZ’s timeline works better with ours, and their record with condo conversions may be short, but it’s solid.” Three other heads bob along with him.
After combing through and analyzing both construction proposals, the Marquee’s project development team of experts is giving their official stamp of approval.
And it’s not for the one I want.
I grit my teeth, feeling my father’s heavy gaze settle on me.
“Good work, guys. I agree wholeheartedly. Thank you.” Tripp smiles and nods, dismissing them.
Serge and the team quietly file out, to give the executive team a chance to discuss this decision.
Tripp adjusts his tie and flashes a smug smile my way before turning to my father. “Kieran, are we finally ready to lock on this and move forward?”
My father sizes up the screen ahead, his eyes narrow and calculating. I can practically hear his thoughts. KDZ is the proposal to go with. If not for Tripp and what Kyle told me, I would be leaning toward them, too. Not that Jameson hasn’t come in strong. But it’s as if KDZ prepared their proposal while sitting inside the walls of Calloway, hitting all our pressure points.
They probably did. From inside the walls of Tripp’s office. Hell, Tripp might have written this proposal himself.
I know my father. He’s weighing all this against a “rumor” that Tripp is taking a kickback, while I haven’t found any solid proof yet because the phone company is taking their sweet time delivering what I asked for. Maybe he’s deciding if he even cares, because at the end of the day, the contract is good for business.
But I just can’t stomach letting Tripp win.
“Piper? What are your thoughts?”
My father catches me off guard. That he would defer to me in a meeting is a step forward. For once, though, I wish he’d leave me the hell out of the decision. “I think KDZ looks good on paper and we can come to a decision within a few days.”
