I smile at Kingsley’s sniffling reply. I draw her in, hugging her tightly, lingering longer because I know she’s still emotional and needs some extra love today. Nothing can get to Kingsley the way a slight to her mother can. She is almost emotionless about everything else, especially her love life. Then it’s all hard-nosed, can’t knock me down, King.
“I’m not ready to go back and deal with everything.” She whispers, reminding me so much of how we were in boarding school. Two girls who felt like outcasts to the rest of their very privileged world.
“I know, but you got this.” I pull her back and stare into bloodshot eyes. Tears drip down her face, and I wince at the amount of liquid coming from her nostrils. I look down at my wet stain on my shoulder. “You’re lucky I love you. Now, no more hiding out. Face the music.”
“Yeah. Same for you. Face the biker.”
Letting that hang in the air, I avoid her knowing eyes and hop into my car, shutting the door and waving through thewindshield as I back out of the gravel driveway. It’s a two-hour ride back to my gallery, and I’m going to need to stop on the way and grab the biggest cup of coffee I can buy, along with something carb-heavy and sugary. I’m also going to need a prayer to help keep my hangover headache in the backseat.
My last night in Long Island was a doozy. Five bottles of wine, copious amounts of snacks, as well as a deep dive into Stone’s world, all led to an epic hangover this morning, which then resulted in King and me waking up much later than I wanted to. Most of my time was spent curled in her guest bed, ruminating way too hard about the biker she just mentioned. I didn’t think spending the last three days with Kingsley would make me even more confused.
And as cathartic as it was to drink wine, eat delicious seafood, cry, rage against our asshole fathers, make plans to get her sister to meet with her, and regale her with what is happening with one very sexy biker, I missed working in the gallery, and I missed Jagger.
Dru was nice enough to take him for me while I was away. When she sent me a picture of Silas cuddling Jagger like he does with his son Bruce, I cracked up. My beardie does remind me of Silas Kenzington. Watchful and assessing. Solitary. A lot like Stone, too, I remind myself.
Should I have left the gallery? No, I still have a crap load of work to do in the gallery. Electricians are coming. Plumbers are helping to fix leaky pipes. New floors are being installed, and I need to complete other small tasks before Jacinda’s opening night. However, the moment King called me crying, telling me she needed me, I left, driving to her beach house in Long Island. All through the bullshit with my family, Reed, and medical school, she’s been there. Even last night, drunk and thinking about Stone, she came through, giving me some perspective and a shoulder to lean on when I struggled to understand why Stonewalked out with another word, leaving me wondering what the fuck happened.
I needed to get away as much as she did. Being in my apartment, next door to the memories of the night I slept in Stone’s bed, was a form of mental torture. Her beach house was an escape for both of us.
King is dealing with the very public fallout of a particular media outlet discovering that her father has been living a double life, having a 19-year affair with another woman across the country in Washington State. So like the escape artist she is, King asked me to spend a few days with her to elude the media harassment.
King also apparently has a half sister that she knew nothing about. A sister who, in turn, wants nothing to do with her or her father’s family. King has always wanted a sibling. Someone to share the burden with, and now that she may actually have one, said long-lost sister is MIA. King’s mother is distraught over the betrayal, and her father’s constituents are not happy that he’s being labeled as a cheater.
So for three days we binged on expensive wine and take-out. Last night we were having one of her famous ‘girl dinners.’ It felt like old times when we lived together. A coffee table filled with cold shrimp, pickles, eaten right out of the jar, cubed cheese, crackers, and a shit load of white wine. Already on my third glass, I was more tipsy than usual, still running what happened through my head. His abrupt departure was the thought that something was finally really happening between us.
“What if it was his girlfriend calling him?”
Kingsley, only on her second, lifted her head off the comfy couch in her cute beach house. “Are we talking about biker man? I thought it was a one night thing?”
I grimaced, knowing it was confession time. It has gone past just wanting Stone for one night. I hadn’t told anyone aboutmy slutty moment in his tattoo chair, where he ate me like a starving man. One of my best friends has no clue that I have a new tattoo. She also doesn’t know about him fingering me in the back alley. The only person, well, creature, who knows is my pet Bearded Dragon. Jagger heard the one-sided tirade I had in my apartment, calling him every curse word I could remember.
But I caved and told her about when I was on my period, and slept in his bed all night. I poured another glass and blurted out everything that happened.
Kingsley was mute for a solid minute, maybe more. “On your period?”
I nodded. “On my period. He said blood doesn’t matter to him.”
“Crimson Moonstone.”
“What?” I asked, confused when she practically squealed.
Kingsley shook her head and set down her glass. “Sorry. I was remembering a scene fromCrimson Moonstone.It’s my latest romance. The MMC is a vampire, and he falls for a mortician. He ends up in her morgue and he bites her in a moment of passion when he wakes up from a long sleep and finds her fondling his cock on her table. He drinks from her body and then he takes her home to his castle and keeps her there. Your Stone has some vampire vibes.”
I nodded, shouting. “Yes! Exactly. I call him the ghost. He leaves all the time and goes where?” I stood up and started pacing, sloshing wine. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s a woman you know? Maybe like a hidden wife and child type shit?”
“Too soon, Cam. Too. Fucking. Soon!” King yelled, scowling in my direction.
I realized my fuck-up. “Shit. Sorry. I put my foot in my mouth.”
She nodded and sighed. “Well, men can be lying dickheads.” The pain in her voice made my chest pinch with pain for her and her mother.
“Yup. Secretive dicks.” I replied, thinking of Stone.
“So you want more with him? Like a relationship?”
I shrugged, unsure. “Maybe. I think so. I mean I don’t know. How can I have a relationship with him? He’s hot and cold. The mixed messages are driving me crazy, not to mention how secretive he is.”
“Hmmm, so you think his sneakiness is possibly him fucking other women? It could be him doing drugs. Selling drugs.”
