Later, after I’m settled on the way to the airport, I turn my phone on. There are half a dozen messages from Angel. The only one I answer is, What the hell is going on?
Quickly I type, Too much to tell you in text. I’ll catch you up when I get back to your place.
There are a few floating dots before I get, Good. I’ve been up all night worrying.
You’ve been up all night because Lucy is giving you heartburn.
Well, that too. I laugh out loud.
The further the driver takes me away from my reunion and Rierson Perrault, the more I can feel myself relaxing back into the woman I’ve become, secure, self-confident.
Content.
Leaning back against the seat, the quick trip to Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport passes quickly. Within hours, I’m airborne. I refuse to give too much thought to what happened.
After all, I never have to see any of those people ever again.
Including Ry.
By the time we hit 20,000 feet, I’m dozing in my seat to make up for the lack of sleep, knowing I face an inquisition when I touch down in New Orleans. My lips curve just before I fall into a deep sleep.
Everything about how I’m feeling is different than the last time I left Savannah, that’s for sure.
Chapter 5
Rierson
The sun is streaming in through the windows when I wake up the next morning. Fuck, that was one hell of a night. Kee Long is one sexy as hell woman, I think, as I roll over to my stomach. I can still catch the scent of her perfume on the pillow her head was on. My body gets tense as I remember how I drove myself inside her tight body.
What wouldn’t I give to see her again? Dropping my head down, I inhale a delicate floral scent that makes my cock immediately hard. Jesus, the thing should be dead after the few hours I subjected it to, but nope. The unique smell of a beautiful woman with a smart mouth and a sexy brain and the damn thing can’t help but react. Scrambling, I reach for the bedside phone. Quickly dialing “0,” I impatiently wait for the operator.
When they greet me with, “Good morning, Mr. Perrault, how can we assist you?” I wonder at my sanity.
“I’m not sure if it… I’m not sure if you can.” I let out a harsh sigh. “It was a stupid idea.”
The operator can’t fully tamp down the chuckle that escapes, and I’m too agreeable to call them on it. “Would you like to order breakfast to be sent up with your messages?”
“I have messages?” I ask dumbly because there’s no way Eli would have left a message. He would have called my cell directly with any updates. A quick check of my cell confirms that. Despite whatever was happening back at work, he also knows last night I was planning on confronting Kelsey with a long-overdue apology. When I was recruited to work for Bayou Enterprises a few years ago, our acquaintance strengthened into a friendship. I appreciate Eli most days, though it’s normal I’m ready to strangle him over some absurd idea he wants enacted. I respect the fact he’s a brilliant CEO and my boss, first, last, and always. I’m just fortunate to count him as a friend as well and have the luxury to tell him straight up there’s no way we’re going to be able to accomplish something on his requested timeline.
But until he called me yesterday with the issues that still have left a knot in my stomach, I’ve never feared the cold determination he displays at the office, though it’s fairly legendary. Even as damn fantastic as it was, a night with Kee didn’t entirely burn the worry over my concerns away.
Before I left, Eli and I had an unspoken agreement that I wasn’t going to be completely out of touch when I told him I needed a few personal days. “There’s nothing I can’t call you for in the event of an emergency. The Spanish shipping deal isn’t going to disappear just because you’re a few hours away.” Trust Eli Boudreaux to assume I’ll bring my company laptop with me on vacation. With a wry look down, I hate to admit he’s not wrong. You don’t get to be the chief counsel of Bayou Enterprises without a lot of overtime and a willingness to shove your personal life to the side.
Which is why I was so blindsided by Kee last night.
“Yes, the young woman was insistent you receive it upon checkout, but since you’re not scheduled to leave until late this afternoon, I don’t see why you can’t receive it now.”
Kee must have left me a message. Maybe she felt the same things I did and left me her contact information. Hopeful, I sit up in bed, the tangled sheets falling to my waist. “Yes, please. Whatever you recommend sounds great. Just lots of coffee.”
“Of course, Mr. Perrault. That will be about thirty minutes.” The operator disconnects. I want to leave the bed where I took Kee about as much as I want to retake the Louisiana bar exam, but I can’t answer the door naked. Scrambling from the bed, I figure I have just enough time for a quick shower before room service arrives. Pulling a T-shirt and basketball shorts from my bag, I head toward the bathroom and think about Kee as the spray hits me all over.
Soft, wavy chestnut-colored hair framed her delicate gray eyes. Beautifully pink-tipped breasts filled my hands more often than not once we got into the room. She has the sexiest tattoo of flowers and vines I’ve ever seen spanning her lower stomach and hips. When I asked her what it was, she said, “Gerbera daisies,” right before she leaned down and took my mouth. Yet, her sass catapulted last night from a great night into something more.
There’s something special about her.
Twenty-nine minutes later, I realize I’m starving when there’s a knock at my door. Finally. I throw open the door. There’s a carafe of coffee and a covered plate that distinctly carries the smell of bacon. Plus, an envelope propped on the front with my name scrawled on it in beautiful feminine penmanship.
Ry
It taunts me more than the overwhelming smell of bacon.
“Thanks for bringing everything up so quickly.” I wait to be presented with the bill. Leaving the room service attendant with a fat tip, I usher them to the door. I reach for the envelope and tear it open. My heart quickly plummets when I read what’s inside.
Thank you for a truly memorable night. ~K
“That’s it?” I wonder aloud. I can’t say I haven’t indulged in my share of one nights with women, but this is the first time I’ve felt more and wanted to explore it.
Shaking my head, I turn to head over to the sitting area when I stub my bare toe on the table. “Shit. Fuck. Damn!” Then to make matters worse, I step on something hard and metal. Wincing, I bend down to rub my throbbing toe when I pick up a plastic-coated name badge.
Huh. I’m pretty positive mine was in the pocket of my jacket. “Then whose is this?” Flipping it over, I choke.
Suddenly, the sight of the food, the coffee, makes me nauseous.
Because Kelsey Kennedy’s sweet face is staring up at me. Only beneath her name, the fucking bitches we went to school with put the name King Kong.
King Kong? Wait. How the hell did this get in here?
Kee Long.
“Choosing a pen name’s a boring process.” I can hear Kee’s lightly accented voice dismiss my question. “It wasn’t the most fun thing I’ve ever done.”
Of course it wasn’t. Because for four years, the people who helped her to establish her alter ego made her life a living hell. And I was quite possibly the worst of them.
No wonder why there was that moment of recognition when I first saw her. I’m gasping for breath as flashes of Kee—no, Kelsey—rising above me tumble through my mind. Her beautiful face, her smile, her fucking perfect gray eyes.
Eyes I remember shining in excitement as she squealed when I hoisted her under her arms and spun her around the empty classroom the day I told her I got into college. Eyes that took my breath away when her long dark lashes lowered over them as I hoarsely told her she was beautiful. A face that looked at me with such devastation when I called out that name, the name she was tormented by her entire high school career.
“Oh, God. What just happened?” I brace myself against the ta
ble. The hole is still open and burning in my soul. I never got the chance to tell her why I did it; I never got the opportunity to tell her I was sorry before she left Savannah for college herself not long after. I can still hear her grandfather snapping at me, “Get off my land, you nasty son of a bitch.”
“But Mr. Bardo,” I pleaded. My father stood behind me, supportive but silent.
“She’s gone! And she ain’t comin’ back—all ’cause of the likes of kids like you. And what’s worse? She helped you get your dream. What did you give her but nightmares?” Right before he slammed the door in our faces.
But I don’t know what to think about the fact she knew who I was last night without giving me the chance to apologize for fifteen years’ worth of misconceptions before sleeping with me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I run my hand through my hair. Leaving the food untouched, I stumble to the couch as I’m lost in painful memories. Ones I never shared with anyone but my father and the president of Forsyth. But not before Kelsey left the state. She left Georgia behind, and no one heard about her ever again since her grandparents moved shortly after that.
Shaking, I come out of my stupor when I hear the alarm on my cell ringing. Shit. I have less than three hours to make my flight back to New Orleans.
Clutching both the note and her badge in my hand, I put them on top of my laptop so I don’t lose them. Now that I have an idea on how to contact her, I need to think of the right words to say.
Me, the lawyer, trying to think of the right words.
All the pain from the last fifteen years coalesces into my laugh as I begin packing to make my flight.
Chapter 6
Kelsey
“Are you crazy?” Angel yells at me. We’re sitting around her kitchen drinking coffee—mine fully loaded, while Angel’s is decaf. “Why didn’t you talk to him? For Christ’s sake, Kels. You could have known instead of always wondering why.”
I shrug because her words sting with the bitterness of truth. Instead of an incredible night of sex, I could have had answers to the questions burning deep inside of me. There’s a nest of hurt feelings I allow few to see because few are permitted to get that close. Angel knows how deep my scars run, and not just the physical ones left over from my surgery. After all, she helped me to battle off a whole new host of bullying when she became my roommate at Pepperdine.
Only Angel understood the emotional wars I fought as I walked next to her in the cafeteria, eventually eschewing it for Styrofoam noodle cups or oatmeal in our room. Angel appreciated when I struggled to get to class on time because I was out of breath or sweating so hard.
Angel understood how hard it was not to give up on my dreams because of humiliation.
And Angel is the only person who ever asked why I weighed so much—if there was some hurt holding me back from being the beautiful person she knew I was.
That night, I told her about the car wreck that took my parents’ lives where we lived in Florida—how they’d been fighting over my mother’s recent discovery about my father’s affair. They both assumed I was asleep in the back seat, but I wasn’t. My father attributed my mother’s weight gain after giving birth to me as the reason he strayed over and over again. After throwing that out there seconds later, he swerved to avoid hitting a wild boar—something as common to see in our community in North Florida as alligators. Instead, he overcorrected and hit a tree at high speed, killing them both and leaving me trapped in the back seat.
I was at Wolfson Children’s Hospital being treated for a severe concussion with those words seared on my brain when my grandparents came to get me.
“At first, I ate because it was a sign of comfort and love from my Nana,” I’d told Angel. “Then it was a way to hide. I mean, if I wasn’t pretty, who would ever hurt me the way my daddy hurt my mama?”
Angel just sat there, holding my hand and crying. She nodded, waiting for me to continue. Taking a deep breath, I did. “My grandparents wanted to make sure I had the best schooling; they had the inheritance from my parents to pay for my schooling, you see?” At Angel’s nod, I continued. “So, they sent me to this private school—. God, Angel, it was awful. The things I was called…” My face heated; the tears flowed over my cheeks in remembrance. “Then I ate to forget. I remember stopping at the local grocery store in the mornings. I’d go to the deli counter, and I’d get pounds of meat and cheese. I’d sneak out to my car to eat it in between classes.” I think I broke my own heart a little when I said in a small voice, “Food became the only friend I had. It was so easy. I was never scared of the truths it would tell me.”
We both sobbed as I kept talking. “I’d see how the kids would watch me, and I don’t know what was worse: the emotional or physical pain.”
“They touched you?”
“Oh yeah. Slammed into lockers, into walls, desks, you name it. I hid the bruises as much as I hid the fat.” Even I heard the bitterness in my voice. “That pain almost seemed tolerable in comparison to the words. God, I can still hear them.”
“Get rid of them. Give them to me.” And so I did. I pulled the box I hastily packed from the closet and described the viciousness of Juliette Bernard to her. I explained how broken my heart would be each time a new folded note would stick out of the locker or slip into my bag, how people would guess at my weight. That someone tried to trap me in the nurse’s office to get on a scale before I ran away and started screaming.
And finally, I told her about the razor blades that would occasionally be left with a note telling me to end it all. After all, the letter suggested, it would be better for everyone if I did. I’d take up less space on the planet.
“I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, Kels, but I promise you I won’t treat you like that.” Angel sounded as broken as I felt. “This”—she shoved her hands against the box of stuff we’d sifted through—“doesn’t define you. This”—she laid her hand on my heart—“does. It’s strong and courageous if it can withstand what you’ve endured. There’s something beautiful waiting to emerge. I can’t wait to see it.”
I collapsed in her arms crying. We ended up skipping classes the next day in favor of watching movies like Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club.
It wasn’t until weeks later that Angel noticed I’d stopped eating. She raised holy hell.
A nutritional science major, my new best friend did her best to help me. That is after she stopped screaming at me for endangering my life. “No! This isn’t how you fix what’s wrong. I’ll help you, but we’re going to do this right. I’m not losing you now that I found you.”
For years, we ate healthily and worked out regularly. No combination of caloric intake plus exercise seemed to work; I’d lose some weight, but not a lot for the effort I was putting in. I was even stumping her professors, who she enlisted to help. Through some research, we determined I had damaged my metabolism as a result of the weight gain. “Great,” I lamented. “Nothing’s going to work.”
That is until Angel’s senior year when she did some research and found a bariatric surgeon in Long Beach who needed part-time help in his billing office. “He has a three-year waiting list, Kels. But if it’s one of his office staff, maybe he’ll make an exception.”
I gave it some thought before I applied. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was work in an office; I was a creative writing major, after all. I had dreams of working for a publishing house, maybe being an editor. I certainly didn’t dream about working in an office where I’d always be reminded of the single thing that could send me spiraling into a severe depression. But after some thought, I figured what did I have to lose? Certainly not my pride. That was long gone. I was both mildly surprised and somewhat disappointed when I was brought in for an in-person interview. I thought they’d throw me out the minute they saw me. Instead, I was blunt when I was asked why I wanted to work there. “Because I need help, and Dr. Toli is my last hope.”
“What makes you think that?” his office manager
asked.
“Because I can hear my heart beating too fast every night I stare out my dorm room window. I’m afraid that’s because it’s going to stop and I’m going to die.”
I was offered the position the next day.
I worked for the famed surgeon part-time for the rest of my senior year and full-time the next year and a half after. Between what I managed to save and the remainder of my parents’ estate, I had enough money to cover what insurance wouldn’t. A chance for hope. And it worked. I lost and have kept off over two hundred pounds.
Blessed isn’t close to how I feel when I think about the miracles I’ve been given over the last decade between my health, my career, and my family—namely, my grandparents and Angel. My regrets, well, most of those are tied to Forsyth.
“It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again, Angel,” I reiterate calmly.
“You don’t think he’s not smart enough to realize you’re…you?”
I snort. “Not hardly. I mean, the man was staring me right in the face while he was…” A loud cough comes from behind me. Angel grins.
“Hey, baby! You’re home from work early.” Angel starts to edge herself to the end of her chair so she can greet Darin, who’s still just as sexy as he was when he was playing basketball for Pepperdine. His huge smile flashes at me, showing the dimples in his cheeks that made coeds everywhere sigh, and Angel threaten to shank a few of them more than once.
He squeezes my arm as he makes his way past me to his wife, who he greets with a long kiss. I rest my chin in my hands, watching openly with a grin. I’m so used to their open affection for each other; I have no problems with rating their kisses. “I’d give that one a five, Dare,” I tease him. He shakes his head before he answers his wife.
“Something told me to wrap up early because trouble was brewing between you two.”
Easy Reunion Page 4
