by Lisa Eugene
Mrs. Kennedy announced it would be some time before dinner and her dad curtly excused himself to finish work in his study. I idled in the living room, peeking at pictures of Alexa through all stages of life, noting that she wasn’t smiling much.
Mrs. Kennedy dropped a few more ice cubes into my drink, then stepped out of the room just as Alexa walked in carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
“You look amazing,” I whispered, pulling her against me.
Her head swung around, her gaze darting to the door. Seeing that we were alone, she relaxed into my arms.
“Thank you for coming. I hope this isn’t too weird.”
“No, not at all.”
She pushed up her glasses. The corner of her lips inched up a few degrees. “Liar.”
“As long as I’m with you, I’m good.” I chuckled and stole a kiss. “It will be a while before dinner, maybe we can go for a walk or something…have some time alone.”
She pulled back, chewing her bottom lip. “Um…my dad doesn’t really like it when we go outside of the house.”
I quirked a brow, confused, waited for the punch line that never came.
Her fingers found her glasses again. “I really should stay and help my mom get things ready.”
I nodded, still not really understanding, but the walk wasn’t a big deal. Before she left, I pulled her in for a deep kiss, loving the way she felt in my arms. My tongue made a slow exploration of her mouth until she groaned and pulled away. At that moment, I wished we were back in the city in her apartment, lying on the couch holding each other and laughing about something stupid.
Called in to dinner, I was disappointed to see that we were sitting across from each other. She lowered into the chair I pulled out, and I absently stroked my palms up her arms to rest on her shoulders. I was responding to a question her mom had asked, not really paying attention to my actions. It was only when I noticed her father’s tight face and his eyes glued to my hands on her, that I realized the look he was giving me was less than approving.
I made my way to my seat, avoiding his glare while I complimented Alexa and her mom on how good everything looked and smelled.
“Did you have any trouble finding the house?” Mrs. Kennedy asked. “The streets in this neighborhood are mapped out in a circular pattern with bisecting avenues coming from the middle. Almost like a bicycle wheel. It was designed that way in the 1920s. Not very practical. It can be tricky sometimes.”
I shook my head, trying to hide my smile. She reminded me a lot of Stats. “No, I have a nav. She got me here pretty quickly.”
“She?” Alexa’s brows jerked up.
I laughed. “It’s a female’s voice, so I decided to give it a persona.” I thought it best not to elaborate. After a brief prayer, we started passing plates.
“You drove in from the city?” That question came from Mr. Kennedy. “Is that where your family is from?”
I blinked, not sure how much Alexa had told her family about me, so I decided to be vague. “I live in the city by myself.”
“And your family?” He ended the question by raising a bushy brow.
“Dad, you’ll never guess who I met last night,” Alexa piped in.
Slightly ruffled, I frowned. It wasn’t so much because Alexa had been trying to spare me from a touchy subject, but more because she felt she had to.
“I was abandoned as a child, then later adopted,” I answered her father’s question, meeting his gaze squarely.
His other brow rose slowly, rounding out the expression of contempt.
“How old were you?”
“Five when my mother left, and nine when I was adopted,” I said flatly, swallowing down the bile killing my appetite.
“So you were abandoned, raised without parents, without someone to set your moral compass. You had no structure, no discipline.”
His words had been a decree of sorts. Alexa’s face flushed beet red. For her sake, I took a deep breath and stared steadily at the man across the table.
“Some children are better off without those things. Especially when they’re misguided.”
Mr. Kennedy tore apart a roll like he was wrestling an alligator. His gaze burned, blistering mine.
“I met Marcus Johnson,” Alexa announced, a clear attempt to change the subject.
Her father turned, pounced on her.
“Is that how you spend your time, Alexa? You have midterms coming up after the break.”
I folded my hands together, using my knuckles as a platform for my chin. My fingers were laced so tight that I could’ve snapped a bone. Tension pulled taut, strained silence stretched between us, a fulcrum connecting our stiff bodies.
“It was just one night,” Alexa said after a minute. “How often do you get to meet Marcus Johnson? It’s such a unique occurrence.”
Her father’s lips thinned. “I heard about your poor performance on your anatomy lab practicum. It appears studying has also become a unique occurrence. It’s apparent you’ve let other things distract you.”
Alex’s gaze swung to her mother and something passed between them. Her face reddened even more and my teeth clenched until my jaw hurt. Though her father hadn’t looked at me when he’d spoken, the innuendo in his words didn’t go unnoticed. It appeared I was in the “distraction” category. I recalled that Alexa had gotten the second-highest grade in a class of over sixty students, not too shabby in my book.
What was this man’s problem?
“Stats is a diligent student. She devotes a lot of time to her studies,” I couldn’t help interjecting. “She couldn’t perform poorly if she tried.”
Both pair of eyes turned on me, surprised, but I’d be damned if I sat there and tolerated more of this man’s disdain, or watched Alexa take a beating. This was why Henry did all the schmoozing. I had little tolerance for bullshit.
Mr. Kennedy inhaled deeply, seeming to suck up all the air from the room. “My daughter has a lot of potential, but it will be all wasted if she—”
“Dad! I have no intention of wasting anything. And this is not the time nor place for this discussion,” Alexa snapped.
Happy to see her stand up to her father, applause rang in my head. She and her mother seemed to shrink in his presence. Mr. Kennedy turned and glared meaningfully at her—a silent communication I didn’t understand. I hated the look that sharpened Alexa’s cheek bones and crunched her lips. Hoping to get a smile out of her, I plucked a piece of turkey from my plate and took a bite.
“Stats, this chicken is delicious. It almost dances in my mouth.”
Her gaze found me, and despite her anger, her lips turned up in a smile. She rolled her eyes, getting my reference.
“It’s turkey, and if it’s dancing, you’re in trouble.”
I nodded, grinning back at her while she shook her head like I’d lost my mind. Good. I’d rather see that look on her face than her previous anger.
Mrs. Kennedy’s brows furrowed gently. She looked to Alexa, then back at me. “Stats?”
I hadn’t realized I called Alexa by her nickname. I laughed lightly at the confusion on her mother’s face. “She just has a head for the most obscure statistics, that’s all.”
Mrs. Kennedy issued a nervous laugh, a conspicuous attempt to melt some of the ice that had formed crystals on the table. “That’s Alexa, all right. She’s always been so smart. When she was born, she walked her doctor through the delivery.”
Alexa laughed, too, a strained, hollow sound. It wasn’t her laugh. Her father turned his attention to his plate. We ate in silence for a few uncomfortable minutes. Alexa kept her head down, making it hard to read what was going through her head or make eye contact. She kept eating, filling her plate again when it was empty. Her father sat quietly, simmering anger and open disapproval on his face. There was a sense that I was missing something, a nonverbal conversation I wasn’t privy to.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I commented on the car show we’d attended. Alexa had mentioned that her f
ather was an auto enthusiast. This topic seemed to minimally soften his stern expression and we held a stilted conversation about German cars. By the end of dinner, he seemed more relaxed and I started thinking that perhaps this evening could be salvaged. Alexa had briefly joined the conversation, describing some of the futuristic models we’d seen.
I was a little surprised when Mr. Kennedy put down his napkin and asked me to join him in his study for a drink. I looked to Alexa, but she was busy dumping mashed potatoes on her plate.
Having no idea what to expect, I nodded, but found my shoulders squaring defensively. As I entered the study, I forced my spine to relax and my mind to stay open. This was Alexa’s father, after all. I was a guest in his home. He had her best interest in mind and probably wanted to make sure I wasn’t a creep just trying to take advantage of his daughter. I would be happy to assure him that we were on the same page where her career was concerned. I fully supported her pursuit of her goals and wouldn’t get in the way of her academics.
His study reminded me of a cave, the dark, masculine atmosphere immediately smothering. The only true spot of color in the room was a collection of antique car models and what looked like several rows of gold and silver lighters decorating his desk. The full-length, free-standing mirror in the corner seemed out of place.
He instantly took a position behind his desk, though he remained standing, a lightning rod of crackling emotion. I moved halfway into the room and stood facing him. I had a good six or seven inches on him, but that didn’t seem to matter. He stood rigid, his features tight, any pretense of civility abandoned. The offer for that drink never came.
“I’m going to get right to the point, Mr. Blakewell.”
“Please, call me Dex,” I said in an overly friendly manner. It was really just to piss him off.
Nonplused, he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back with indignation.
“I meant what I said about my daughter having a great deal of potential.”
“I agree. She’s a great girl.”
“Her dream is to become a doctor. She’s trying to get an internship at the Mayo Clinic. It would be perfect for her.”
I nodded. “I’m aware of that.”
“It would be a position of prestige and honor. She’s come too far to throw it all away.”
“I don’t think—”
“How long have you two been together?” he interjected.
I debated just how hostile I should be, but in the end, I said, “We’ve known each other a few months.”
He nodded curtly. “That explains a lot. In that timeframe, she’s managed to crash my car, her grades have deteriorated, and she’s become much more defiant.”
I absorbed his assessment, decided it wasn’t worth a response. There seemed no use in pointing out that we’d met the evening of the car accident. Apparently, I was the devil leading her to perdition.
My body relaxed into a deceptively bored stance.
“I’m sure there’s a point to this and that you’ll get to it soon.”
Mr. Kennedy came around the desk and leaned on the edge, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You need to end the relationship.”
I didn’t know why his statement surprised me. It shouldn’t have, but just the thought stopped the breath in my lungs, pushed fear through my ribs. I was not one to take orders. Shaking my head in disbelief, a small chuckle rumbled out.
“I won’t do that.” I wanted to say: Fuck off!
His brown eyes narrowed angrily. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll end up hurting her.”
Straightening my spine, I blew out a deep breath, annoyed now, and angry that he thought I’d ever hurt Stats. He didn’t know a damn thing about me.
“I have no intention of doing that,” I replied tightly.
He scooped up a lighter from his desk, jostling it slowly in his palm as if testing its weight. I didn’t know why, but a chill came over me, skating a straight line down my back. He looked up calmly, though a muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying his fury.
“My daughter is very fragile. And you will end up ruining her and everything she’s worked for, if you don’t end it. She needs to stay focused, and already you’ve proven to be a terrible distraction.”
I’d had enough. I sighed heavily and pulled to my full height. “If Stats want to ends things, that’s a different story, but I won’t do it. I care about her. And honestly, if you truly believed in her—in her potential—then you’ll trust her to make her own decisions. She’s an awesome person.”
I pivoted to leave, eager to be out of the room and away from this asshole.
“You have no idea how much you’re hurting her. You’ll be sorry if you don’t end it.”
“This discussion is over!” I shot the words over my shoulder, my feet on a determined course.
Outside in the hall, I stopped to take a deep breath, heart running wild in my chest. I didn’t really know why. I wasn’t intimidated by this man—intensely annoyed, but not alarmed by anything he’d said.
The way I looked at it, Alexa was a grown woman who lived on her own. I knew she shared my feelings about our relationship, could see in her smile, hear it in her laugh. We shared something special, a connection hard to find. She was fully capable of making her own decisions.
Her parents were not at all what I’d expected. Alexa was doing great in school. Her father’s harsh criticisms and concerns seemed unfounded. They were probably footing her medical school bills, which was most likely a strain. I’d bet that was a factor, too, in them driving her so hard to succeed.
I blew out a long breath, wondering if I could convince Alexa to leave. I didn’t think I could stay there any longer. Walking into the kitchen, I found her mother clearing dishes from the dinner table. She smiled when she saw me, but I wondered if she had any part in what had transpired in the study.
“Where’s Alexa?” I asked.
“She went upstairs to the bathroom. She’ll be right down.”
I looked around, my gaze shooting through the doorway, hitting the table where we’d had dinner. I remembered trying to get Alexa’s attention, her singular focus on her meal. I’d assumed she was upset and simply trying to get through dinner as quickly as possible, but now I started to wonder. Why was she always disappearing to the damn bathroom?
“Upstairs?” I frowned.
Mrs. Kennedy nodded, her pleasant smile intact.
I swore under my breath and headed for the stairs. I didn’t know what drove me, but I had the feeling that something was very wrong. Perhaps it was the lingering aura of this disastrous evening, or just my urgent desire to leave.
I found the bathroom at the top of the stairs and could hear the water running even before I got to the door. I tried the knob, surprised to find it open, then I pushed the door and stepped in.
Chapter Eighteen
Alexa stood at the sink, scrubbing feverishly at the bottom of her dress where there was a large water mark. She looked up when I entered and surprised, blue eyes met mine. I patrolled the room with my gaze, not exactly sure what I was looking for, but my anxiety fell away like toppled bricks when I saw her. Relief threaded through me.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She shrugged, her face falling. Her gaze scuttled away. “Well, I spilled gravy all over my only dress, my father totally embarrassed me tonight, and my boyfriend probably thinks my family is completely dysfunctional. Other than that, I’m fine.”
I took two short steps to her and slid my palms against her cheeks. I looked into her beautiful face, let my gaze caress her.
“What your boyfriend thinks is that you are fucking awesome.”
A reluctant smile broke through, but she didn’t seem convinced.
“I’m sorry tonight turned out so badly. You probably would’ve had a better time alone at home.”
I shrugged. I didn’t think I needed to confirm her observation. She pulled away, placing the rag she was scrubbing her d
ress with on the sink and turning off the water. “What did my father want?”
I shrugged again, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep them off her. “You know, the usual father-boyfriend threats. He asked a bunch of questions about me.”
“He asked you to break up with me, didn’t he?”
She was staring at me, eyes wide beneath her glasses. Uneasy.
I nodded slowly.
“And?” Her bottom lip trembled slightly.
“And I told him no fucking way.”
She gasped. I chuckled. “Well, not exactly in those words. Although I really wanted to, Stats.”
“Ugh!” She grabbed the rag, snapped it angrily against the sink. “That really pisses me off. I just knew he was going to do that! You know, I ask them to do one thing for me—to be nice to you tonight. I told them how much you mean to me—and they couldn’t even do that!”
“Shh…” I pulled her into my arms, smiling at her raised voice and fiery umbrage. I liked her impassioned support, but I didn’t need more drama with her parents tonight. “Can we leave, please?”
She lowered her voice, but anger still colored her skin and sharpened her lovely cheekbones. “I’ve done everything they’ve ever wanted—everything, Dex. They knew how important tonight was to me! I’m just so sick of his bullshit! I’ve never brought a guy home—never! I’m twenty-four years old. When is he going to stop trying to control me?”
I tried to remember if I’d ever seen her this angry. Maybe the night of the accident and when she talked about that witch, Rhonda, in her class.
“Don’t worry about it, Stats. Let’s just get out of here.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself again.”
She laughed hollowly. “We should have loud, wild sex in here, just to piss him off.”
I laughed, too, but more from the utter shock of her words. “Yeah, that’s all I need is for your father to come upstairs with a shotgun and blow a hole through me.”
She laughed. A Stats laugh. The one that I loved. “He doesn’t have a shotgun. He has a handgun.” She slid her arms around my neck and fused our fronts.
