Kiss Me Now

by Wylder, Penny

  “All right,” the counselor replies, her eyes jumping between me and my ex-wife carefully. She takes her seat across from us. Sheryl sits down too, on the couch where I’d been a moment before, way too close for comfort.

  I perch on the arm of it instead, to avoid any contact. “This situation—this marriage,” I amend, “is untenable for me. I’ve realized Sheryl is not going to change, and neither will I. We just aren’t compatible, Sheryl.” I look at her, now, and behind her fury, I notice genuine tears forming in her eyes.

  “This will be better for both of us,” I tell Sheryl. “We need to go our separate ways. You need to let me go.”

  “I’ve told you,” Sheryl starts, and I raise a hand to stop her.

  “I know your terms,” I explain. I glance at the therapist. Back at my ex. “You can keep the company. If that’s what you need to get back on your feet and to feel like you have closure, it’s all yours.”

  Now her jaw drops for an entirely different reason. “But…”

  “Do I think it’s fair? No.” I laugh under my breath. “But I don’t care anymore, Sheryl. I built that company from scratch once, and I can do it again. So, you win.”

  She takes a shaky breath.

  Across from us, the counselor claps her hands. “Well. This does seem like a breakthrough. Sheryl, how are you feeling?”

  I resist the urge to groan.

  “How am I feeling?” Sheryl clenches her fists. “This is insane. You’re only doing this because that whore you’ve been cheating on me with suggested it. The Lark I knew would never—”

  “The Lark you knew didn’t exist,” I interrupt. “You never knew me, Sheryl. You just projected what you wanted to see. And for the last time, don’t you dare insult Cassidy.”

  Sheryl’s smile turns ugly and bitter. “If you cared about that girl at all, you wouldn’t do this. Do you really think her little startup is going to survive without my investment?”

  “Cassidy has already surpassed our wildest expectations,” I reply coolly. “And with my help on the business side, she’ll continue to.”

  Sheryl barks out a laugh and leans back on the couch. “Oh, so that’s your plan. You’re going to live off of… what, the profits from her little makeup outfit for the rest of your lives? You can kiss that penthouse goodbye, Lark.”

  “I’ll be happier in a tiny ramshackle flat with Cassidy for the rest of my life than I ever would’ve been in some mansion with you,” I reply, my voice steady. Sheryl can’t get to me anymore. Her words have no effect. Thanks to Cassidy, I’m finally free.

  I reach into my bag and pull out a folder. Then I set it on the table between us, in full view of the counselor. “Divorce papers,” I say. “I’ve already signed. They give you full control of the company. The only stipulation is that you release your shares of Cassidy’s business to me.” I’ve done the math. It’s a drop in the bucket compared to our other investments. Don’t get me wrong, Cassidy’s star is on the rise, but some of our clients we’ve had for years, and their big-name businesses rake in millions.

  Sheryl would have to be an idiot not to take this deal. And my ex might be many things, but she’s not stupid.

  Her eyes narrow. “What’s the catch, Lark?”

  “No catch.” I spread my hands wide. Glance at the therapist as a witness. “This is what you wanted. So I’m offering it. That’s all.”

  The counselor watches us both. “It does seem like this arrangement would cover the stipulations and concerns you’ve raised in here before,” she says after a moment, looking at Sheryl.

  “But…” Sheryl splutters. Then bites her lower lip, clearly fuming. “I’ll have to have my lawyers look it over,” she says a moment later, more calmly, once she has her frustration under control.

  “That sounds sensible,” the counselor speaks up. “Lark, would you agree to that?”

  “Of course.” I push off the couch. “But I’ll need an answer by the end of the week, Sheryl. Otherwise, I’m taking this to court. And I don’t think either of us want this to get any messier than it’s already been.”

  With that, I stride out of the office, leaving the two of them to talk this over behind me. I have a feeling Sheryl’s going to need the counselor’s help far more than I will.

  I’m not sure how I expected this to feel. Scary, or maybe gut-wrenching. I loved that business. It was the one thing we built during our marriage that I really cared for and was proud of.

  But I’ve been mourning the possibility of losing it for a year already. To my surprise, as I walk out of the building, all I feel is relief. As if the papers I left up there in the office were a thousand pound weight around my neck, one I didn’t even realize I was lugging around. Not until I finally threw it off.

  Feeling better than I have in years, I reach for my phone and dial Cassidy.

  34

  Cassidy

  My phone buzzes. I glance at it, grateful for the interruption. When I asked my mother if I should come and meet her at the hospital, or if she needed a ride to the doctors, or what all the operation entailed, I expected details. Instead, she invited me out to lunch in town again, over near me. Meaning she’s well enough to drive, at least.

  It should be a relief. But it only makes me worry more. Worry that this time, my mother has crossed a bigger line than I’ll be able to forgive.

  Before I can reach for the phone, my mother’s voice interrupts.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to answer a call while we’re at the lunch table,” she says, her tone snippish.

  Which is rich, considering why she’s here. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “So, did the hospital release you early?” I ask.

  “What are you—” My mother cuts off abruptly, her whole face flushing as she remembers what she said to me. “I mean. Yes, of course. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  I scoff. “Unbelievable.” We’re in a small restaurant this time—no more overly expensive places since I know full well that I’ll be footing the bill. But this is still one of my favorite spots, an unpretentious, cute little restaurant with an owner who always sneaks me extra portions at dessert.

  Across from me, Mom is pushing her food around her plate, her nose wrinkled, like she can’t possibly bring herself to eat this swill. It’s the same thing I order here every week, and it’s perfectly good. It’s just not the bougie, overpriced meals she’s used to indulging in, I guess, when she’s got a sugar daddy on the go.

  Now, I’m assuming she doesn’t. Judging by how far she’s going to con her own daughter.

  “What do you mean, unbelievable?” Mom eyes me with that expression of perfect innocence that I’ve fallen for one too many times with her.

  “I’m used to you making stuff up, but a hospital visit? You had me scared shitless. Are you really that desperate for cash?”

  Her face flushes a bright, angry red. “I didn’t make it up, Cassidy. There’s a very important procedure I need done, and it’s expensive.”

  I stare, unmoved, my jaw set hard. The old, usual guilt I feel whenever I face down my mother is nowhere to be felt today. I’m standing my ground, for once. “You scared the hell out of me, you know. I thought you were having a heart attack or something. Now you’re acting like you don’t even remember telling me there was an issue. At least try to keep your own lies straight, for God’s sake.”

  “I never said it was an emergency,” Mom replies, lips pursed. “It’s hardly my fault you leapt to that conclusion—you’re always so dramatic.”

  “Like that wasn’t exactly what you wanted me to do,” I burst out. “Panic and give you all the money I’ve worked so hard to earn without asking any questions.”

  “Daughters should want to help their mothers,” she coos, her voice lowering now. “If I’m going to find a new husband, I can’t go back out on the dating market looking my age,” she says.

  My stomach churns as it hits me. “Oh, my God. You want money for plastic surgery?”

 
“Just a chin tuck and an eye lift,” she protests. “And a little work on my breasts—those are your fault, I might add, they were perky as anything before I had you. It’s the least you can do. Your company has money coming in aplenty, and I know that boy you’ve been seeing is rich. Surely he’ll grant you one little favor.”

  That does it. I ball my fists under the table and sit ramrod straight in the chair. “I am not begging Lark for money.”

  Mom’s expression shifts into a scowl. “Honey, haven’t I taught you better than this by now? You can’t be with a man who you can’t depend on. If he’s not willing to help you and your family, how can you trust that he’s got your best interests at heart?”

  “That’s not love, Mom. That’s not a healthy relationship, and deep down, you know it.”

  “So you’re saying I’m unhealthy.” My mother sniffs and straightens in her own chair, too.

  I groan. “Kind of! You keep living off other people, expecting them to do everything for you. First it was men, now your own daughter?”

  “And you never ask for help, or take what you’re owed from anyone,” my mother retorts. “This is history repeating itself all over again. First you date that Norman, perfectly fine young man with plenty of money, but you let him run roughshod all over you. You never asked him for anything, and so he never felt a responsibility toward you; he never took care of you. But you have a chance to do it right this time.”

  “Mom, Norman was an abusive piece of shit,” I reply, before I can stop myself. The moment the words leave my mouth, my mother’s eyes fly wide open. So do mine, honestly.

  I’ve never said that out loud before.

  It feels good. It feels freeing. And moreover, it’s the truth.

  “I never told you because I didn’t want you to worry about me. But it got really bad by the end.” I stare into her eyes, and watch as the anger melts from her expression, replaced by worry. I force myself to keep talking. “I’m okay now, though. Really. I’ve been seeing a therapist I really like, and she’s helped me reframe a lot of the unhealthy ways I look at the world. The bad patterns I seek out in relationships. Because, well… kids tend to mirror what they see growing up. And I had a lot to mirror with you.”

  Then I slide my hand across the table, palm up. My mother stares as if it’s a snake that might bite her. But, after a moment, to my utter shock, she takes it.

  Mom opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “You don’t need plastic surgery, Mom. You’re as beautiful now as you’ve always been, if you just let yourself see it. And you don’t need other people’s money to live, either. You are strong enough to make it on your own. And so am I.”

  I squeeze her hand tightly.

  There’s a long pause, during which my heart rises into my throat. But then, finally, she squeezes back.

  I set a card on the table. “This is my therapist’s number. She’s got appointments free, if you want to go. I think it could be good for you.” Then I fold my arms on the table and lift a hand, waving for the check. “But Mom… this meal is the last payment you’re ever going to be able to guilt out of me. Understood? I’m on a new path now, I’m healing, and I’m learning how to set boundaries and take care of myself. I hope you can do that too. But I’m not going to enable you anymore.”

  “Cassidy…” Her voice sounds tight. Scratchy. Like she’s holding back tears.

  So am I. But I won’t let her sorrow move me. Maybe someday, if she goes to therapy too and works through her own issues, my mother and I can work on rebuilding our fractured relationship. I hope so. But until then, I meant what I just said. I won’t let her use me anymore.

  My mother’s gaze drifts to the card and back to my face. “I was trying to teach you how to survive in a world that’s cruel to women. A world where we need to take every advantage we can get our hands on.”

  “I understand that. But it’s not healthy. And it’s not the way we should be surviving.”

  The waiter finally approaches with the bill. I slip payment into it, leaving a hefty tip like I always do. Mom would disapprove, but then, I’m breaking free of her restraints now. I’m learning to live my life the way I want to. Not the way I was taught.

  I take my coat and rise, scooping my phone off the table. There’s a message from Lark. Probably telling me how the meeting with the counselor went. He told me this morning, before he left, what he planned to do. I only hope that it works out, somehow. Maybe there will be a miracle and Sheryl will realize she’s being a complete asshole. Do an about-face and let Lark keep his share of the company he built.

  Somehow, I doubt it. But hey, a girl can hope.

  “Goodbye, Mom.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. She doesn’t kiss me back.

  But she does, I notice, pocket the therapist’s card, just before I turn to leave. It’s a small action. A tiny step. I only hope that for once, my mother will choose to walk the hard road in the right direction.

  35

  Cassidy

  “Can we afford this?” I ask, laughing, as Lark leads me by the hand out onto the rooftop of one of the newest restaurants in town. There’s a panoramic view of the whole city glittering at our feet, and hardly anyone else up here.

  In fact, now that I’m looking around more closely… There’s no one else here, except for a team of waiters, all eying us like we’re a king and queen who just waltzed in. My suspicions rise even further.

  “Lark…” I say.

  He nudges me. “Relax, Cassidy. I called in a favor with an old friend, that’s all.”

  It’s been a few months since our big showdown with both Sheryl and my mother. It took some more arguing on Lark’s part, but Sheryl did finally sign the divorce papers. He’s out a company, and we’re both starting over. We spent a last long fun weekend in his gorgeous penthouse, and then we moved his stuff into my place for the time being.

  He turned a healthy profit selling the penthouse, but he didn’t want to buy another place just yet. “This is my investment money now,” he told me the night the sale went through. “And I already know the business I want to pour it into.”

  My cheeks flushed when I realized what he meant. “Lark, I’ve told you a million times, the last thing I want is your money—”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “And I’m not giving it to you, Cass. I’m investing in your future. You’re the business genius now.” He’d ruffled my hair, and my chest swelled with a mixture of pride and pleasure.

  With that money, we’ve been able to continue to keep up with the increased demand my little startup makeup company was already seeing. More and more orders have been flooding in every day, and we even expanded to a workshop in town. I hired a couple employees—really fun, upbeat people who are eager to make their mark on this industry too.

  Judging by the way our profits are soaring, we’ll be back on our feet again soon enough. I’ve already caught Lark eying sweet little townhouses in the neighborhood near where we set up shop. I can tell he wants to keep it a surprise, though, so I’ve pretended not to notice him browsing real estate listings late at night, while I’m getting ready for bed.

  It’s funny. I thought success would be what makes me so happy. But it’s not. It’s knowing that I can do this on my own. I can make my own way in the world and survive just fine. I don’t need to rely on anybody else.

  But it is nice to have a teammate in this fight. I reach over to catch Lark’s hand and squeeze lightly. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I tell him, grinning. I know he still has friends in high places around the city, from when he used to be one of their best customers.

  But I’m not sure why he decided to call in a favor tonight, of all nights. When we were just going out for what I thought would be a quiet dinner, the two of us, to unwind after a long week of working at the shop.

  He grins and leans in to kiss me, his lips lingering for a moment, stealing my breath the way they always do. Then he crosses to the table and draws out my chair, whipping the napkin like he’s
a professional. “Oh, but I did,” he replies. “Don’t you know what tonight is?”

  I laugh, and take my seat, letting him fold the napkin over my lap before he takes his own chair. “It’s… a Friday?” I guess.

  He shakes his head, tsking. “Am I the only sentimental one?” he says. Then he lifts a hand, and one of the waiters approaches with a bottle of champagne whose label I recognize. It’s expensive. But Lark winks, and I know he’s got it under control. If my man knows anything, it’s when to budget… and when to splurge on spoiling me.

  He reaches over the tablecloth and catches my hand, his thumb tracing now-familiar circles over the back of my palm. “Today marks exactly six months since we first met. Did you realize that?”

  I lift my eyebrows. “You were keeping track since the day we met?”

  “Of course, Cassidy.” He leans forward, and I mirror him, our gazes locked over the candlelit table. “That first night we met, I knew we had something special. I just didn’t realize yet how special.”

  “You’re so sappy,” I tease, but I’m grinning like an idiot too.

  “You love it,” he retorts, and I nod, cheeks flush.

  “Definitely.” Then I’m the one to lean in and kiss him, slow, savoring this moment.

  When we break apart, he’s smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. “But that’s not all we’re celebrating,” he says. “I got some… news, today.”

  “Oh?” Both my eyebrows lift. He raises my hand, still grasped in his, to his lips and kisses the back of it.

  “The divorce has been finalized.”

  My jaw drops, and my heart soars. “Already?”

  “We were able to fast-track it, since we both agreed to the terms. My lawyer told me I was being an idiot; he thinks I should have taken Sheryl to court, that I could’ve gotten more out of her. But I just wanted it done and over with, you know? There are more important things to me than money, these days.”