by Knox, Abby
“Yes,” I say. “And unlike my parents, he came to summer theater, he was there for the winter musical…”
“You didn’t even perform in the winter musical!” Mom says.
I gesture wildly in exasperation. “I was co-director and it was really good!”
Dad is still pacing, unable to speak. Mom is doing her best to be rational. “Well I suppose we need to get you on the pill.”
I snark. “Really, Dr. Rydell? I’m eighteen and you're just now thinking about that? Here’s a clue. He is a good man and even though he’s had a vasectomy, he took me to Planned Parenthood for birth control.” I stand up and get ready to storm out. “But honestly, Mom, I wish we’d had the birth control conversation about three, four years ago. It should have been you. Maybe if the two of you didn’t leave me alone all the time, this might not have happened.”
A little over the top? Probably. Did he have a vasectomy? I have no idea. Acting!
Up in my room, I begin to text Addie when I get an unexpected call from Ms. Fairhope.
“You are not going to believe this but you know Mr. Rushmore?”
Grief and terror flood me. What has he done? Has he pulled the plug on the theater department somehow in revenge for me wanting space?
“Yeah, why?” I ask warily.
“Wait, let me start over,” she says. She’s a little spacey but I adore Ms. Fairhope. “Vince and I are getting married!”
I squeal, so relieved to hear some good news. “Oh my god, yay!” I’m so thrilled for her, my angry tears switch over to happy ones. Ms. Fairhope and that Vince guy are the weirdest couple yet they make perfect sense. They make each other laugh, and he does basically whatever she says even though he looks like a surly bear of a man. The news grips my heart with a tinge of jealousy.
“But what does that have to do with Mr. Rushmore?” I ask.
“Well,” she explains, “apparently he heard about Vince and Max’s story and was so moved he offered his estate for our wedding.”
“Wait, I don’t understand. How did he find out you were getting married?”
“Because I applied to rent out the school, and the request goes through the school board of trustees. Him being the board president, he saw it and reached out to me and Vince. It was…kind of hard to say no to him. But hell, I’m not going to argue with his offer to pay all the expenses. He’s even offering his attorney to handle Max’s adoption, as well as office space for Vince’s business, rent free. It’s insane! Who does all that, like a freaking superhero with a trust fund?”
“Mr. Rushmore does,” I sigh. “Just call him Bruce Wayne.”
She chirps. “I’d love it if you came to the wedding.”
I smile sadly. “Of course I’ll be there.”
24
Rushmore
I can’t do this anymore.
I need her.
She needs me.
End of story.
From my deck overlooking the lake, I survey the party going on on the lawn inside the heated tent. The fact that I haven’t had to lift a finger to make Jewel and Vince’s wedding happen—I delegated everything to a very eager wedding planner and her small army of workers—has shown me something.
I’m missing out on connection.
My whole life I’ve been dictated to, and dictating is about all I know how to do. Directing, negotiating, getting what I want, making things happen. But I haven’t put my soul into any of it. I don’t have any real relationships.
And I need to fix that, starting with the person who should have been a top priority from the beginning.
I dial her number.
“Daddy? I’m kind of in the middle of something…”
I’ve never used a firm “dad voice” with Ridley before, but here goes. “Ridley, come home. Now. We need to talk.”
* * *
First things first, I apologize.
“I’m sorry for never saying no to you.”
I don’t think Ridley, my party-loving socialite daughter who’s never been deprived of a thing her entire life, understands at all what I’m doing.
At first, she simply cuts her eyes around my office, as if she’s looking for the hidden camera. “What’s going on? Are you dying? Is that why we’re in your office? Because you’re cutting me out of the will?”
I have to laugh. “What? No, I’m not dying.” I proceed to confess to her all the ways in which I’ve done her a disservice. Given her things she didn’t earn. Paved a golden path everywhere her feet have trod and never giving her a sense of appreciation for what she has. Most regrettably, never nipping her bullying problem in the bud way back in preschool.
And then, I drop the bomb about Hunter and me.
Not surprisingly, my daughter listens to my story in shock and horror.
“What are you going to give me to keep this story quiet?” she asks.
I rub my face in exasperation. But then again, this is what I do. I negotiate.
“Did you not hear a word I said? Where did I go wrong with you, Ridley? Was it when I bought you a pony when you asked for one at four years old? Was it the front row Beyonce tickets at the age of nine? Was it the credit cards?”
She sighs and crosses her arms. “Daddy, come on.” Her pouty lip and professionally shaped eyebrows indicate she is judging me, dismissing me, as perhaps she should.
“Ridley, I love you. And I don’t want this to affect your senior year any more than I want it tainting Hunter’s senior year.”
She looks at me skeptically. “So?”
“So, if the story gets out, it will be embarrassing for you as well as for her,” I say.
Ridley’s eyes dart around. “Hmm. I don’t think that’s correct,” she says. “This is way worse for you and Hunter.”
Her lip curls because she’s got me where she wants me. Or, she thinks she does.
I clear my throat and gaze at the floor of my office to keep her from seeing my smile. Regaining my composure, I deliver my final offer. After all, negotiating is one of the only useful life skills I’ve taught her. “If this story gets out, in any form, I don’t care if you are the source, or Hunter or your mother or the ghosts of Greenbridge are the source. You, my dear daughter, whom I love very much, will be cut off.”
She smirks. “Really. Well, go ahead and cut me off. I’ll stay with Mom, and she has plenty of money. Not to mention Grandpa. And how am I supposed to stop Mom from blabbing this all over the PTA meeting when she finds out about it?”
I take a step closer. “Because despite all her faults, she has compassion. Something we perhaps failed to teach you. She would not want a student to suffer embarrassment because of her idiot ex husband. Also, grandpa’s money is in a trust, and you won’t see it until you’re twenty-five. And guess what? Grandpa can change the terms of that trust whenever he wants, with a single word from me.”
I’ve just delivered a lot of information, and she takes a moment to absorb it. “I have compassion,” she says.
I nod. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Now think carefully about what I’ve said.”
She starts to turn away, but I press my hand to her forearm before she leaves. “Just one more question, daughter of mine. If you ever do find out I’m dying, do you think you could maybe save your concerns about the will until after you give your old man a hug?”
Unexpectedly, her chin quivers. I’m totally thrown; Perhaps it’s my fault, but I have never seen Ridley’s face crumple out of pure, selfless emotion since she was a little girl. She throws her arms around me and my heart squeezes inside my chest. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I give my little girl a proper bear hug.
Before she lets go, she repeats, “OK, but are you sure you’re not dying?”
I laugh again and give her another fatherly squeeze. “No, Ridley.”
She lets go and says, “Just checking. And if you tell anyone you saw me cry, you’ll wish you were dying.” She shoots me with playful daggers in her eyes before swirling around t
o leave my office.
It doesn’t fix everything, but it’s a start.
When she leaves, I pace the house while I’m on the phone with an understandably appalled Bianca. She’s so outraged at my news, she could spit nails, and I don’t blame her. But, in the end, as I suspected, she’s going to keep it quiet out of respect for Hunter.
“Besides,” she muses, “You and I had our basically-arranged marriage when we were eighteen. And believe it or not, your daughter knows a thing or two about dating an older man.”
I stop in my tracks in my office and stare up at the portrait of my parents that hangs over the fireplace. The fact that my parents’ marriage, like my first one, was more or less a business arrangement is almost obvious in the painting. They do not look happy, and in real life, they truly were not.
What are you saying, Bianca?”
When my ex-wife explains what’s really going on with Ridley, I’m shocked, pleased, worried, but of course, given my own situation, I can’t be angry.
25
Hunter
“Well, this is unexpected.”
Ridley Rushmore, the meanest princess who ever cat-walked the halls of Greenbridge Academy, has just apologized to me. And here I am — the school’s queen of melodrama and dramatic monologues — and I’ve got nothing to offer except to point out the surprise of the situation.
Standing inside the heated tent surrounded by happy wedding guests, Ridley rolls her eyes and sips her pretty pink mocktail. “I know, I know. Just, like, accept my apology so I can move on with my life. My dad is having some kind of mid-life crisis or something and wanting everyone around him to have ‘feelings’ or whatever.” With her free hand, she puts air quotes around the word “feelings.”
I squint at her skeptically, but my heart also melts. Clearly, Rushmore has been trying to talk some sense into his daughter. “All right. I accept your apology. But, Ridley, your dad is 39, that’s not quite mid-life, I don’t think.”
Ridley’s face fights the urge to revert back into bitch mode. Finally, she blinks at me, smiles sweetly and giggles. “No, of course you wouldn’t want to think that.”
Judging from her comment, I realize she must know the truth about her dad and me. I swallow down the panic as she saunters away.
I watch her go and wonder whether she’s going to make the rest of my high school career a total misery because of my relationship with Rushmore.
But then, I take a deep breath and let it out. Even if she does choose to do that to me, I’m almost done with school. I’ll move to New York with or without Rushmore’s help, and nobody will know or care about my private life.
26
Rushmore
“You look different,” Hunter says as I approach her from the stairs leading down to the pool.
“I need to talk to you,” I say. “Will you come inside with me?”
Hunter, looking angelic in a flowing wintergreen formal dress and a white shoulder wrap, pops her eyes at me. “Wow. That’s the first time you’ve summoned me so politely. Yes.”
Hunter takes my hand, and the thing I’ve been missing since I brought her home from New York feels restored. We’ve only been apart for a few days, but it feels like years. Now it feels like it should have felt from the beginning, before I fucked it all up.
I guide her upstairs to my room, where we sit on the end of the bed.
“I need to tell you everything that I didn’t want to talk about before,” I say.
She shifts toward me and nods, eyes wide but not scared. God, she’s so beautiful, inside and out.
“I’ve had a pretty easy life. I’m the first to admit that. But while my parents taught me to run a successful company, they never taught me how to be human. I wasn’t allowed to socialize with other kids whose parents were less than successful. My dad ruled the house and made everything about building wealth and power. But he wasn’t happy. I realize that now. When I was eighteen, my father was trying to finesse a business transaction with another hotel chain. To sweeten the deal, he told the owner of that other hotel chain that his son—that’s me—could marry their daughter, and she and their grandchildren would be wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. My marriage to Bianca was just like an old-fashioned arranged marriage, and we were both way too young. We were never happy except when it came to our daughter. But it wasn’t enough to keep us together. Neither of us cheated; we simply had nothing in common.
“And that’s why it scared me so much every time you asked about my marriage, my past. And why I mistakenly worked so hard to mold you into something you were not. I thought I needed to manufacture things for us to talk about. I thought I needed to make you into a corporate wife. But now I see I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
My shoulders slump, but Hunter appears suddenly taller. She arches an eyebrow at me. ‘Well. You. Should. Be. Sorry.”
“And I spent my Christmas binge watching reality TV and eating frozen food. And it wasn’t terrible. The only thing missing was you. You fill my harsh, gray world with light and fun and joy and drama and fire. And I love it. I love you.”
Hunter sucks in a breath. “Wait. You love me?”
“Yes. I thought that was obvious.”
She rests the palm of one of her hands on her chest, like she’s checking her pulse. Her eyes shining, she blinks several times very quickly. “Just so you know, nothing is ever as obvious as you think it is. When you feel feelings, you need to say them. When we have children of our own, you need to tell them every day that you love them,” she rattles off.
“Babies? You want to have babies with me?” I can’t fight the smile that’s blooming.
She wags her head at my obtuseness. “Yes, don’t you want to have babies with me?”
I breathe out a sigh. “From the moment I saw you.”
Hunter cocks her head. “See, that’s the thing you need to tell a woman.”
“Wait. Do you love me back?” I ask her.
Hunter’s mouth twists into a sassy smirk as she scoots over to me and lifts herself onto my lap. Instinctively, my hands find their way onto her ass. She feels so good nestled against my quickly hardening cock.
“I’ve loved you from the moment you caught me when I fell off the stage last summer,” she says, removing her furry wrap and tossing it aside.
Our mouths meet and it feels like all the misunderstandings have fallen away. It’s just us.
Moments later I have her dress tossed aside in a heap on the floor, where it mingles with my tuxedo. I have my woman on my bed, where she belongs. And it feels amazing. Skin on skin. It’s never felt like this with anyone else.
Claiming her sweet mouth with my hungry, deep, wet kisses, I work my fingers into her slick channel, getting her ready for me. In that moment, I realize that all this time I’ve been saying she wasn’t ready. But the truth is, I wasn’t ready. But I am now. We both are.
She moans into my mouth as I stretch her core to prepare for my entrance. The pad of my thumb works over her clit, brushing it from side to side. Hunter squirms under me, urging me on.
“I’m ready, Anthony.”
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
“But—” she starts, but then stops when I slide down between her thighs and my mouth lands a soft kiss on her damp folds. Hunter’s sticky juices glaze my lips as I lick and taste all of her. Her pussy gushes when I slide my tongue all the way from her cunt up to her swollen, tight clit. She moans and writhes under me. I swallow her honey with fervor. Pausing, I look up from between her thighs to see her hands roaming over her naked breasts, nipples taut, her eyes on me, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip so hard I worry she may draw blood.
I softly nip my way up one soft, creamy thigh, back over to her mound. “You are glorious, sweetheart,” I breath into her sensitive, wet slit. The vibrations send my beautiful girl pressing her hips hard into my face. Her sweet stickiness coats my face while I ravage her clit with tongue kisses and my fingers stretch her passage. The way her pussy tighte
ns around my fingers and her juices continue to flow, I know my angel is finally ready.
I prop myself up on one elbow to gaze into her face while I slide in the tip, then graze her clit with the pad of my thumb. She bites her lip and her cheeks pink as she smiles up at me wickedly.
I take in the view. Her perfect, round breasts and pink nipples beg for my attention. I worship them each in turn with my mouth, resulting in a needful, throaty moan from Hunter. I push in deeper and feel her cherry.
“Keep going. Please,” she begs, her breath ragged. One more swipe of the pad of my thumb across her clit has her bucking against me and whimpering.
“Precious, I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s going to hurt for a second.”
Hunter lets out a primal little feline moan and squeezes my middle with her thighs. When she replies, her voice carries an edge of raw womanly need that I’ve never heard from her before. “Since the first time you kissed me, I’ve had to change my panties three times a day. If you insist on keeping me waiting I might have to find someone else to pop my cherry.”
Fuck. That.
My eyes blaze with a sudden fire of jealousy and possessiveness and outrage.
I blanket her dirty, sassy mouth with mine and thrust my tongue inside while I break her virginity with one firm thrust. She whimpers into my mouth, and her body tenses under me.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart,” I rumble into her neck. I scrape my fingertips across her unmarred skin from the sides of her breasts down to her hips. She in turn rakes her nails across my shoulders.
“More,” she whispers. “I want all of you.”
“You have me,” I say, pulling out and thrusting in with a rising fierceness. “Open a little wider for me, baby.”
She obeys and follows this with a command of her own. “Deeper.”
