Ravishing Royals Box Set: Books 1 - 5

by Holly Rayner

  Slowing down so that I’m running in place, I study the building set back from the street. There’s a rustic, wooden fence around the small property, which is wedged between a real estate office and a radio station, and a cobblestone path leads to the front door.

  The windows are dark.

  Looking up and down the street, I check for Kal’s car among the ones that are parallel parked. It’s nowhere to be seen.

  A numbness starts in my hands and creeps through the rest of my body. This isn’t how I should be seeing his workspace for the first time. He should be showing me around it, his hand in mine, a smile born from pride lighting up his face.

  It becomes too hard to gaze at the shop. The sidewalk at my feet draws my attention instead.

  You would think that by now I’d have learned not to stake this much hope in one person or thing, but apparently habits do die hard.

  Looping around the block, I head back for Shay’s, purposefully going the route that won’t have me passing Kal’s house.

  Still, I notice as I enter Shay’s yard that his car is gone.

  If he’s not at work, where is he? Did he take Maya on a day trip?

  The memories of our day at the zoo hit hard and fast. It stings to think of them ever going back there without me.

  Inside, I take a shower then collect the notebooks in which I often jot down random design ideas. Café Swallowtail, which is quickly becoming a second home, seems like the only place to go. One of Magnolia’s special mochas and the chatter of townspeople going about their day is exactly what I need.

  It’s not Magnolia working, though. A guy with long hair tied back with a bandanna is behind the counter, bobbing his head to the reggae playing from the stereo.

  “What can I get you?” he asks me.

  “A black coffee for here.”

  I’ll wait to have my special drink until Magnolia can make it.

  “Coming right up.” He fills a white diner mug to the brim and sets it on the counter.

  “Is Magnolia working today?” I ask, digging change from my wallet.

  “She’ll be in at twelve.”

  “Cool.”

  Well, I have nowhere to be. I might as well hang out here and wait for her.

  After paying, I take my coffee and turn for the couch, but it’s already occupied. A couple about my age sits so close they’re nearly on each other’s laps. Their heads close together, they whisper about something. The girl laughs loudly, and the boy pushes hair back from the nape of her neck.

  A loss of balance hits me, and I sway. My stomach eating itself, I take a seat at one of the wooden tables.

  When did I become this lonely? Has it been creeping up on me ever since Mom’s death, and I’ve just been distracting myself from it, filling my hours with the company of other people and this and that? Has even my healing time in Ohio been a distraction?

  What about this whole fiasco with Kal? What’s that been about? More my need to have my way and gain some control of life than to actually grow closer to him?

  The question alone packs quite the punch. Slumped over in my seat, I stare into my steaming coffee.

  It’s quite possible he would have opened up to me one day, but I ruined any chances of that happening. I had to go and push things before he was ready.

  Maybe he never would have been ready.

  True. But who knows?

  Not me. I didn’t give myself enough time to stick around and find out.

  My phone starts going off in my bag. It’s the ringtone for the video-chatting app I only use with Laura. A couple people glance over at the sound, and I dig for the phone, planning on silencing it.

  I’m really not in the mood for a conversation.

  I can’t bring myself to do it, though. Much as I want to wallow in my sadness, chatting with a friend might be exactly what I need right now.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  Laura’s face appears on my phone, the window in her office behind her.

  “Hi!” She waves.

  “Give me one second, okay?”

  Gathering up my things, I go for the coffee shop’s back door. There’s a cute little patio surrounded by climbing ivy out back, and this is the kind of conversation that might require privacy. No telling how emotional I might get.

  “Okay,” I huff, finally outside and depositing my bag and coffee on a table. It’s a wonder I got out here without spilling coffee everywhere.

  “Where are you?” Laura squints.

  “At the coffee shop downtown. I just went to the back patio.”

  “Cute.” She leans back in her chair and twirls a pen in her free hand. “What’s new? Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

  “Let’s start with you,” I say, needing the distraction.

  She blows out a breath. “Yikes. Um, I went to karaoke the other night. It wasn’t the same without you.”

  The mention of karaoke reminds me of Kal. It probably always will.

  “What else?” I ask. Time to move on to a new topic.

  “I worked overtime three days this week.” She laughs. “Yep. So there’s that. My social life has been… eh.”

  “I’m sorry.” I frown.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  Her eyes narrow. I shouldn’t have tried to lie. Laura can read me like a book.

  “Yeah.” My shoulders slump. “That’s not true. I’m… pretty down.”

  “That’s normal right now. Remember what that book said about how it might even take months or years to adjust? Some people are still in shock for a year after the death of a parent.”

  “I’m sure that has something to do with it. Certainly, it makes everything else happening feel worse.”

  “What everything else? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Swallowing, I prop my phone against the coffee mug so I can talk hands-free.

  “I’m trying to be positive,” I say, “and I think that might mean not talking about some things.”

  Laura’s quick on the draw. “If you don’t talk about things, you’ll repress your feelings and they’ll show up later in negative forms. Depression. Anger. Anxiety. Any number of neuroses. You know that.”

  “Darn you,” I mutter with a wry smile.

  “When have you known me to dispel anything but the truth?”

  Before I begin, I glance around to make absolutely sure I’m the only person out here.

  “I mentioned my neighbor before, right?”

  “The hottie with the daughter?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “What happened?”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. Laura is my best friend, and she’s right, I need to talk about this, but honestly I’m drained from it all.

  “We were…” How do I put this? “In the early stages of a relationship,” I say.

  “And then what? Something changed?”

  “He’s not as honest as I expected him to be,” I say. “As any normal person should be.”

  “Hm. Okay…” She frowns. “Did he do something behind your back?”

  “Um, no, it’s not like that. It’s his past. He has a, well, a secret about it.”

  She taps her lips with the end of the pen. “I get the feeling you’re not going to tell me what this secret is.”

  Twin weights press into my shoulders. It’s hard to look at Laura, even with hundreds of miles between us.

  “I’m exhausted from it,” I whisper. “Exhausted thinking about it, trying to figure it out…”

  “Is it something really awful? Did he kill anyone?”

  “No.”

  Laura waves her hand. “Then it doesn’t matter, and you certainly don’t need to get any more specific.”

  She doesn’t sound hurt that I don’t want to say more, only matter-of-fact.

  “It’s not what the secret is,” I say, “it’s the fact that he’s kept it from me.”

  “Maybe he planned on telling you.”

  “That’s what I was thi
nking only a few minutes ago.” I cover my face with my palm. “And I thought maybe I ruined things between us by being pushy.”

  “Were you pushy?”

  I drop my hand. “Is asking directly if something is true or false being pushy?”

  “No.”

  “What about if you do it twice?”

  “Eh…” Her face scrunches up while she thinks about it. “No.”

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s in the past now. I might come back to New York early. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “It’s that bad, huh?” Laura frowns.

  “Sterling is awesome, but I can’t risk running into Kal everywhere I go.”

  “Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself,” she says. “It could be things aren’t over yet.”

  “He told me he doesn’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  “People say stuff like that all the time. Don’t tell me you’ve never said that to someone and didn’t one hundred percent mean it. It could be he said that because he was hurt or angry and now he’s kicking himself for it.”

  “Maybe,” I concede, though I don’t want to get my hopes up.

  “Have you talked to him since then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Try again.”

  “Really?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

  Usually, Laura has a “forget about them” attitude when someone disappoints either one of us. She’s all about clearing out the old and making way for the new.

  “I can see how much this has you down,” she says.

  “You don’t think it’s just because it’s all been, I dunno, exacerbated by Mom…”

  It’s still impossible to finish that sentence.

  Laura fills the silence before it can become awkward. “Before you left for Ohio, you said you weren’t going to look for romance. You were firm about that, remember? And I could tell you really meant it. For a guy to make you change your mind, he has to be something pretty special.”

  “He is,” I murmur.

  “Then he’s worth giving things another shot.”

  “How?” I nearly cry. “He said he shouldn’t even see me anymore.”

  “Here’s the problem as I see it.” Laura’s chair squeaks as she adjusts herself in it. “You’re stuck on the past when you should be focusing on the present. Everyone has secrets, and no one is obligated to reveal all. Not at first, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that. I wish I’d realized it sooner.”

  “Better late than never.” Her smile is gentle. “If you care for this guy, and he cares for you, then anything from the past can be worked through.”

  It’s probably the wisest advice she’s ever given me. The truth of it resonates in my soul.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. Tears of gratitude fill my eyes.

  “I got you, girl. You’re always there for me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve needed it a lot this year.”

  “That’s the way it is sometimes,” Laura says.

  “I’m going to talk to him.”

  “Excellent.” She claps her hands together in excitement. “Be kind, okay? Remember that he’s probably hurting too, and you have no idea what he’s going through.”

  I let those words sink in. They’re ones to play on repeat in my head.

  “You’re the smartest person I know,” I say.

  Laura rolls her eyes. “You must not hang out with many people.”

  “Whatever, silly.”

  She kisses the air. “I gotta get back to work. Let me know how everything goes.”

  “For sure. Thanks again.”

  “Bye.”

  As I put my phone away, there’s a new hope entering my heart. Everything that only ten minutes ago felt dreary has changed. I’ve been a jumbled mess of emotions, but clarity has finally surfaced.

  Chapter 17

  Julia

  Since it’s still the middle of the day, I don’t head home right away. What’s the point? Kal certainly won’t be there. Especially if he’s taken off from work to spend the day with Maya.

  Camping out on the coffee shop’s back patio, I put in my earbuds and lose myself in my favorite playlists. Having a lighter mood gets my creativity flowing, and soon I’m doodling in my notebook.

  Magnolia’s arrival makes everything better. I tell her about the advice Laura gave me, and she backs it up with the agreement that focusing on the present is a great idea. Business really kicks in halfway through the afternoon, and I hang back and let Magnolia do her thing. After the rush, though, we get into a discussion about eighties movies that ends up consuming much of the afternoon.

  My mood couldn’t be better, but that doesn’t stop me from constantly looking at the time, counting down the hours till five thirty. That seems like a good time to head home and check on Kal’s status.

  Finally, the magic hour arrives. With a wave to Magnolia, I head out into the late afternoon. The heat is dying away, but there’s still the delicious smell of baked earth and freshly cut grass.

  The drive to Shay’s, I’m on the edge of my seat, eager to see what’s going on next door.

  When an empty driveway comes into view, my heart nearly moans out loud. Looks like I have a bit longer to wait.

  Going into the house, I hang up the keys and forage around in the kitchen for something to eat. Nothing other than coffee has gone into my belly since cereal this morning, and though I don’t feel hungry, I know my body’s in need of nutrition.

  There’s some leftover pizza from the other day, and a package of salad mix that I forgot all about. The greens are still fresh.

  After heating up a pizza slice in the skillet, I take my plate to the living room and curl up on the couch. Nothing holds my interest, though, and I end up flipping through channels as I eat.

  Leaving the TV on for the comforting background noise, I go into the kitchen to put my plate in the dishwasher. Surely, half an hour has gone by.

  It’s been fifteen… and there’s still no car next door.

  Tension collects between my shoulder blades. Maybe I should have stayed at the coffee shop for as long as possible. But, no. I’d probably be pacing around that place, too.

  The sound of a text coming in makes me jump.

  It’s unlikely to be from him, but I scurry to get my phone anyway. The text is from Laura.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing yet,” I type back. “Waiting for him to get home.”

  Putting the phone down, I look for something to keep myself busy. Everything is pretty clean and well organized, on account of my not having work to eat up my hours.

  I go out into the thick, yellowish-orange light that’s bathing the backyard. If Shay owed a lawnmower, I’d cut the grass, but she doesn’t. A lawn-care company comes and takes care of that.

  Hands on my hips, I go back into the kitchen.

  I stand there.

  The next two hours pass much in the same way.

  By the time night is sneaking into the neighborhood, I’m done with waiting. Snatching up my phone, I dial Kal.

  The unanswered rings have me holding my breath. His voicemail picks up, and I hang up instead of leaving a message.

  Is he ignoring me?

  He certainly doesn’t need to be gone all day to do that.

  Going to the window, I check his house again. Nothing’s changed. The floodlight that I’m used to seeing switched on around now hasn’t even come on.

  This is kind of weird. From what I’ve observed, Maya’s bedtime is pretty much nonnegotiable. No matter where they went, shouldn’t they be back by now?

  Worry eating away at my gut, I go over to their house. There are a few bushes in between the side door and Shay’s yard, which means the door there is partially blocked from view.

  It also explains why I didn’t notice before that the side door isn’t closed all the way.

  My heart jumps into my throat, and I freeze. The hairs on my arms are suddenly standing straight up, and I’m
painfully aware of my each and every breath.

  Did someone break in?

  Gulping, I take a careful step forward… then another.

  A gentle push on the doorknob is all it takes to nudge the door open the rest of the way. The dark kitchen is quiet, the thumping of my heart all I hear.

  “Hello?” I call, not really expecting an answer.

  When there’s no response, I step into the house and flick on the kitchen light. Everything looks normal.

  Still stepping cautiously, I go into the hall and turn the light on there. The bathroom and bedroom doors are open, but something’s different about the living room, which is still shrouded in dark.

  This is probably where I should turn back. What if someone did rob the house, and they’re still in here?

  But I don’t. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn on the living room light.

  The TV is in its place. So are the gaming and stereo systems. I frown. What’s different in here, then? I know something’s not—

  The photos on the mantel. They’re gone.

  Stepping further into the living room, I do a full three-sixty. It seems like some of the books are missing from the shelves as well. Not all, but maybe a third.

  A feeling of dread propels me back into the hall and to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet is open and empty.

  I rush to Maya’s room. The blanket and pillow are missing from her bed, and her favorite stuffie that she showed me the other day is nowhere to be seen.

  Since I’ve never been in Kal’s room, I don’t know what to expect, but what I do find only adds to my discomfort. The room is simply decorated, with a bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe. The last one’s drawers are all open and empty.

  I take a few steps into the room before my legs give out. Plopping onto the edge of the bed, I look all around.

  They’re gone.

  On a trip? Surely they just went on a last-minute vacation…

  But who takes their collection of family photos on a trip? Who clears out their entire wardrobe? And who is in such a rush that not only do they not lock the door, they don’t even close it all the way?