by Lee, Nadia
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. It’s one thing to be embarrassed about your family’s sordid history, but something else to have your woman watch the whole shit show play out with her own eyes.
I need a drink. And a special eraser to wipe out what just happened. I’m so damn mortified that I can’t even face Skittles.
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault.” She puts her arms around me. “She surprised both of us.”
I sigh with relief that she isn’t disgusted enough to walk out, then hold her tighter because I need her warmth and softness to sooth the acidic burn in my gut. “I’m still going to apologize. This should’ve been a perfect day for you.”
“It is a perfect day. I aced my job interview. I had fabulous sex. Your mom’s visit… It’s just a minor blip. And it showed me you have good judgment.”
I pull back to look at Skittles’ lovely face. “She’s that obviously bad, huh?” I know honesty is important in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean I want her to see all my ugly baggage.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” Skittles says softly. “And your mom isn’t you. Don’t act like you’re somehow responsible for what she did here.”
The gentle understanding in her voice is my undoing. And I finally realize why what she thinks about me matters so damn much.
I’m utterly in love with her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Pascal
Court is looking at me so strangely. Is he still worried about how I’m reacting to his mom?
If so, he shouldn’t be. I intend to be fully supportive of him, the way he was with me when I was having issues with my dad.
I pull him gently to a couch and push his shoulders until he’s seated, then curl up next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what? Sex?” he says, his tone light, even though his eyes are still not quite the same bright blue.
“You know what I mean.”
“And you know what I mean.” He puts an arm around my shoulders. “She isn’t that important. And she doesn’t make a habit of showing up unannounced. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
The “this is finished” shutters come over his eyes, and I know he won’t say another word about it. It bothers me because I swear he needs more support from me. On the other hand, maybe this is his way of coping. Don’t I also try not to think about my dad’s newly discovered sexist attitude?
Although Court seems okay now, I’m still reeling a little. It isn’t because I’ve never met the mothers of my exes before. None of them were anything remotely like Margot Blackwood.
She’s prettier than I thought she would be from the photos. She has amazing bones, and Court definitely got his looks from her, especially his eyes. But unlike him, she has no warmth. I’ve never met a person so cold. When she held my hands, shivers went up my arms.
I panicked inside, though. I was so worried about making a good impression on her that I freaked out silently about what she’d think, what with me here in my wrinkled clothes and looking like I just had sex.
As the visit went on, it was obvious I didn’t have to care that much. Instead of making me relieved, it upset me more. I hate it that I’ll never have to worry about how she perceives me. I wish Court had a mom who he could have a tight, loving relationship, not the reptilian Margot. The shuttered and tight expression on his face… God, it hurt like hell to see. He’s usually so carefree and laid-back that it never occurred to me he could grow that dark and miserable.
What she said about girls judging their men by how they treat their mom is true. But what I told her is also true. I do trust him. And her cruel parting shot proved me correct. She doesn’t have the right to ask anything of him. Not like that.
And I hate it that she ruined our buoyant mood. Well, you know what? Fuck it. Court is right. This day should’ve been awesome. No. It will be awesome. I refused to let my dad screw up my self-esteem and goals, and I’m not letting Margot screw things up either.
“You got any champagne? Wanna drink it and have a second round of celebration?” I ask, giving him a come-hither look.
He kisses my forehead. “I have a bottle or two, but I thought you wanted to gloat a bit.”
“Gloat?”
Court grins. “If you want, we can hire a plane to skywrite it outside your dad’s office. F U I got a new job! I’m sure I can find one to do that right now.”
I laugh. “You’re insane, but the idea does have a certain appeal. In fact, a lot of appeal.” And my God, it’d be hilarious. I’d give a kidney to see Dad’s expression. But… “Let’s be realistic. I think texting will work just as well.” I start typing on my phone, letting everyone on my contact list know I’m starting a new position at Omega Wealth Management.
It doesn’t take long before congrats start popping up on my screen.
Mom: I’m baking your favorite chocolate cake and cookies this Saturday. Bring Court.
Rodney: Congrats! I knew you’d find another great opportunity.
My other coworkers express similar sentiments. Curie texts, I knew it! Yay you! We gotta celebrate tonight! I’ll grab you after Joe’s done with his photo shoot. Dinner & drinks!
Her enthusiasm makes me grin. I was thinking about a more private celebration with Court, but going out with my sister and her husband is just the thing to erase the funk of the unpleasant visit with his mom. I’m at Court’s. Why don’t we meet you at the restaurant?
Cool. I always wanted to try this new place out. She texts me the name and location of a Mexican restaurant.
I turn to Court. “Is Mexican good for dinner?”
The last remnant of tension vanishes, and his smile finally regains its full brightness. “Sounds perfect.”
Great. See you at six thirty, seven?
See you then. And bring your boyfriend.
I put the phone away and look at Court. “That was Curie. She wants to have dinner and drinks. She specifically wants you there.”
He gives me a strange look. “She did?”
I nod.
“She isn’t going to try to poison me, is she?” He raises an exaggerated eyebrow.
I laugh. The notion is so ludicrous. “You didn’t think Dad would, but you’re worried she might?”
“Well, I did try to steal her away from her fiancé at her wedding. But only because I didn’t know it wasn’t you.”
I flick a finger across the tip of his nose. “Relax. She won’t try to poison you or kill you. Do you want me to give you a signed affidavit?”
“Won’t be necessary. I trust you, just like you put trust in me earlier when my mom was here.”
The simple, absolute statement puts a lump in my throat. Emotions swell in my chest, and I can’t do anything except stare at him. The need I have for him isn’t just a physical connection or fun. Maybe at first it was. But now it’s deeper and stronger, like we’re tied at the soul.
It should be weird I feel that way. I’m too logical for it. But my mind can’t think of any other way to describe what we have between us.
“Court…” I whisper. I don’t know why, because it isn’t like I have anything to say. But I want his name on my lips, to see his gorgeous eyes seeking mine.
My phone rings, shattering the moment. I pick it up, wondering if it’s Dad calling to say he was wrong and to congratulate me on my new job.
But no. It’s actually OWM’s Human Resources department. They want to know when I can start and tell me what I need to bring on my first day.
I close my eyes and tell them I’d love to start next Monday. The weight of Court’s gaze bores into my cheek. Part of me is relieved I don’t have to examine what I was feeling just moments ago too deeply, but another part of me is disappointed I’m being such a chickenshit.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Pascal
The restaurant Curie picked is new, and neither Court nor I have been to it before. Just like her to know all the new places, though.
Being a social media addict and an influencer keeps her in the loop.
The music is cheery, Spanish lyrics soaring over rapid guitar chords. The restaurant smells of lime, cilantro, flour tortillas and sizzling meat. Court and I are early, so we go to the bar to order a drink—a margarita for me and a bottle of beer for him.
Over the rim of my glass, I study Court. He changed into a simple shirt and shorts. His broad shoulders and biceps flex and move as he brings the beer to his gorgeous mouth with surprisingly soft lips. I can’t decide which I like more—him in his dressier outfit or something this casual and relaxed. He’s hot either way. He also looks great naked, too, although that would be illegal in public, even for him.
“What?” he says as though he feels my gaze.
“Nothing. Just thinking you look pretty.”
He frowns, although a small dimple appears on his cheek as he tries to suppress a smile and fails. “Pretty is the word for you, not me.”
“Really?” Most people—including myself—would usually use a word like “smart” or “nerdy.” “Pretty” is for Curie, and I’ve always thought of us that way, too, even though we’re twins.
“Uh-huh. You’re gorgeous in that dress.”
I flush. I insisted on getting my car from OWM and going to my place to change before coming here. I wanted to freshen up and put on a magenta dress I got last year because it’s one of the hottest outfits I own. I didn’t want to look like I just wrapped up a job interview, when I know Curie’s going to pop up in some cute clothes herself.
She’s always perfectly made up and dressed, ready for a selfie or two at any time. I don’t usually care about that sort of thing—we aren’t in a competition or anything—but I still don’t want to appear too shabby and sloppy next to her. So weird that I care so much all of a sudden. I never did until now.
My gaze darts to Court. Is it because I don’t want him to think I’m less pretty than Curie? Or wondering how I measure up, looks-wise, to his exes? His opinion is becoming so important—maybe too important—to me.
The door opens, and Curie and Joe walk in together, their arms linked. As I expected, a fresh coat of powder covers her face, and she’s in a pretty lavender dress. Joe is in an Avengers shirt and faded jeans, probably having just returned from a photo shoot. He’s super busy these days.
“Sorry, we’re late,” she says, giving me a hug. She always says that when she isn’t the first to arrive.
“You’re on time. We were early.” I hug her, then Joe. Since she wants Court here and I want whatever awkwardness—if any—to be resolved as soon as possible, I say, “So, this is Court. Court, Curie and Joe.”
“I know who he is.” Joe narrows his eyes and purses his mouth in an exaggerated expression of anger.
“Do I need to start running?” Court says lightly.
Curie elbows Joe in the side. “Oh, stop. You thought it was funny.”
Joe’s face relaxes into a grin. “Yeah, I did.” He pauses. “Afterwards.”
“Well then. I’m glad there are no hard feelings,” Court says, this time earnestly. And the two men shake hands.
“I was stunned, but really, it was kind of sweet of you to chase her all the way to Hawaii.” Curie smiles. “Besides, the only people who make me hold a grudge are ones who hurt Pascal. Fair warning.”
“Oh, come on.” I love my twin, but she can be overprotective. Besides, I can’t ever imagine Court hurting me.
“Well, it’s true.” Curie makes a fork with her index and middle fingers and does the “my eyes, your eyes” gesture at Court.
He laughs. “No problem. I’ll let you put a hidden camera in my place.”
I let out a horrified gasp. “Don’t give her any ideas.”
The hostess comes over and says our table’s ready. We move to a booth big enough to seat six. The menu is extensive. Curie skims for a second, then says, “We have to get shots first.”
“Exactly. What’s a celebration without shots?” I say.
When our tequila shots arrive, Curie raises her drink. “To Pascal and her new job. May she kick financial ass.”
“Hear, hear,” Court says.
We clink. I knock mine back fast, then bite into a slice of lime as the alcohol heats my sinuses.
“So when are you starting?” Curie asks.
“Next Monday,” I say.
“Wow. Quick.”
“I had three weeks off.”
She nods. Joe and Court decide to get another round, and we knock that back after a toast to Curie and Joe’s newly wedded bliss.
The food arrives soon.
“This is a great find,” Court says after handing me a tortilla for the fajitas for two that we ordered.
“I know all the good places.” Curie grins, waving her fork with a piece of tomato from her taco salad skewered at the end. “If you ever need recommendations, just let me know.”
“I don’t know how much he’s going to call you,” I say after a bite, which is delicious. I give her a look through my lashes, dying to see her hilarious reaction. “His brother owns Z, and—”
“What?”
“—I bet he knows all the exclusive digs.”
“Really?” Curie asks Court, wide-eyed. She’s almost never wide-eyed in person—just in her Instagram feed when she wants to exaggerate.
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Oh my God. That’s awesome.”
He shrugs. “It isn’t bad.”
I rub his shoulder. “Especially when you want to have people cut the line.”
“You figured that out?” He grins.
“It occurred to me later that maybe you had something to do with it.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Curie asks. “You could’ve come over and invited her to the VIP line.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to impress anybody with my brother’s club.”
That’s so like him. He uses connections he has—like the private jet he borrowed from his rich buddy—but doesn’t try to pretend that he’s the one with all the things or influence. He always seems to want to be judged for the kind of person he is. And that’s sweet and honest. Maybe even slightly vulnerable. And definitely endearing.
As the dinner goes on, Court and Joe start talking about their favorite sports teams. They both love football and basketball, so they go on and on about predictions for draft picks and blah blah blah. It gives Curie and me a chance to huddle away.
Curie gives me a look over a glass of water. “You’re crazy about him.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Maybe not to everyone, but I know you. You’re in love.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “People keep saying that. But it’s too early.”
“Says who? I knew Joe was it when I first laid eyes on him. Didn’t you think that to go to bed with Court the night you met?”
I clear my throat. “That was then, and it’s different now. I should give it more consideration if it’s going to be a long-term thing.”
She laughs incredulously. “What’s a long-term relationship except people loving each other so much that they want to stay together as long as they can? I mean, it isn’t like you’re worried about whether he’s rich enough or whatever.”
“Of course not!” I bristle like a hedgehog.
“Thought so, because if you were, you wouldn’t be my sister. If you love him, you love him. This isn’t a math test.”
I know it isn’t. And that’s why it’s hard. I can’t check my answers, and no matter how sure I am, I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before—most recently about Dad. And he was about as much of a sure thing as I thought possible. I assumed he would support me. But he didn’t. He still hasn’t congratulated me on my new job, and I know he’s seen my group text. His silence hurts.
My eyes find their way to Court. The ache in my heart lessens, and I feel whole and happy. Even as my head says it’s too early for me to be sure, my heart says that isn’t true.
I am in love w
ith Court.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Pascal
I’m super busy for the next couple of days. Curie says I need new clothes, and I agree. Need something fresh to start off my new job right. So we go shopping Friday and Saturday, and I find a few nice tops, skirts and slacks. And shoes. Curie has a finely calibrated shoe radar, and now I’m a proud owner of two new pairs of the cutest sandals that are also suitable for the office.
Of course, that means I’m neglecting Court a bit. But I don’t think it’s that bad. He hasn’t complained, and even if I’m in love with the man, I don’t want to be the kind of girlfriend who has to spend every waking moment with her guy, like a squid with extra-strong tentacles.
Saturday evening, and Court is driving me to my family dinner and another round of celebration, this time with my dad there. He still hasn’t said congrats, although I’m certain he’s seen my text. I wonder what he’s going to say to me in person. It’s not like he can ignore me. Maybe he’s feeling a little regretful about my quitting. Bet he never thought I’d get a new job with more responsibilities and better pay. And my very own office, which I didn’t have at SFG. I can’t wait to share.
I eye the champagne in my lap. “You sure about this?” I ask Court.
“You deserve nothing less than Dom.”
“Isn’t this your brother’s, though?” I figured out recently that the wine and other pricey alcohol were something Tony left behind.
“He probably forgot it was in the back of the cellar. Ah well.” Court shrugs. “Finders drinkers.”
I laugh and quit protesting. Most likely Court’s right. Or maybe Tony just doesn’t care. Either way, I’d like to have a premium bubbly to toast with. I want this to be as special as possible.
We park and walk toward my parents’ home together. A pleasantly warm breeze rustles the trees around us. Court’s grin is so wide that even my cheeks are hurting.
“What are you so happy about?” I tease. “Is it really that much of a relief that you don’t have to be my sugar daddy?”
“Hahaha! I wouldn’t mind. But I’m feeling a bit smug because I know Steve’s going to be eating a nice, big slice of juicy crow pie.”
