Chapter twenty-three
Kendra
“Hun, don’t forget to tell her she looked great in the Pumped Energy pics,” Debbie whispers insistently. Even annoyed, I stifle a snicker; she must not realize the phone’s on speaker.
I’ve been avoiding my dad since his last call, when he pretended to care about my job, then tried to convince me, yet again, to give Andre another chance. Andre: my lying, cheating, nowengagedex-husband. For whatever reason, my dad just won’t accept we’re over.
I’d bet money that’s why he’s calling again today. An online sleuth tracked pictures of Damon from Friday’s event back to “The Look Seen ‘Round the World”. His secret is out, and my notifications have been pinging for the last four hours straight.
It’s either that, or his quarterly call to rehash his disapproval of my career. You’d think when I made my first million, he’dget over it, but no.A respectable woman wouldn’t go around flaunting her body like that. You must’ve gotten that from your mother.
I’ve got nothing further to say on either topic. Unfortunately for me, I accidentally picked up the phone without checking on my way to meet Damon. Now I’m trapped.
“What are you going on about?” he hisses back to my stepmom. She tsks in return.
“I said she looked great in the Pumped Energy pics. She’s one of their new spokespeople.”
Debbie knowing the details of what I consider a minor endorsement deal shocks me into silence. Unlike literally everyone else who saw the photos, she focused onmeand not the man on my arm. Maybe the warmth in my chest whenever we chat, even through my dad, isn’t irritation after all. Could it be…affection?
There’s no time to tackle that question right now. Thanks to a stalled train on the yellow line, which nearly sent me into another panic attack, I’m already late. I pick up the pace as much as I can in these Stuart Weitzman boots and tune back into my dad and stepmom’s bickering.
Not for the first time recently, I feel bad for her. My dad can be charming when he wants to be. He also looks closer to forty-five than his actual fifty-eight, a trait I inherited that’s already extended my career past what most models can dream of. While that’s enough to make women fall in love with him, when the veneer finally fades, all that’s left is an angry, close-minded man who thinks ruling with an iron fist will keep all otherwomen from leaving him. So far, his methods have had the opposite effect.
I clear my throat to remind them I’m still waiting on the line.
“Hey Dad. I’m running late to meet someone. What did you want to talk about?” I regret my brusqueness, but it’s the only way to get his attention.
“Well,” he says, obviously offended, “Debbie wanted to say she liked the Pumped Energy pictures.” He says it as if she’s holding a gun to his head. “AndIwanted to let you know Andre came by with another box of your things yesterday. He says that’s all of it, so you can let yourboyfriendknow he doesn’t need to keep threatening him.”
I bite back my retort. Andre can’t get to me anymore, so now he’s feeding lies to my family. My dad always loved him. They fished together, smoked cigars together, and together, they complained about my busy schedule and constant travel.Often. It was one of their favorite pastimes.
I have no doubt that if I were still with Andre, he’d have pressured me to retire and start popping out babies soon. My plans these days are less about babies and more about boutiques. I couldn’t be happier.
“OK,” he sighs, realizing I’m not taking the bait. “I’ll let you go. Just text me when you want to come by to pick up your stuff.”
“Will do,” I answer, then hang up before he can respond. Talking to him always tests my patience, but I can’t bring myself to go no-contact.
I look both ways before crossing the street into Saint Nicholas Park. It’s a bit of a trek, but it’s also a hidden gem with way fewer people to deal with than Central Park. We can’t be too safe with those pictures circulating…and with things between us still unresolved.
It’s too cold for a picnic, and the ground is damp from last night’s rain, but New York in the fall will always be my favorite. It’s after the sticky armpit of summer, but before the constant gray and slush of winter. Plus, Fat Girl Fall is a thing. I traded my usual chai for a pumpkin spice latte this morning, and we’re going to frolic in this crisp air, take in the vibrant foliage, and then make our way to The Edge Harlem, a Caribbean restaurant Denise recommended.
I approach, and Damon stands from a bench at the park’s entrance.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets me, pulling me close to nuzzle his nose against the sensitive spot behind my ear. I shiver for reasons completely unrelated to the cold.
“Hey, beautifulback,” I answer, putting my own nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. I read somewhere that if you’re compatible, you’ll find your partner’s pheromones irresistible. Damon smellsgood. Likebetter than fresh-baked cinnamon rollsgood. Not that he’s my partner, though we certainly werecompatibletwo nights ago!
I blink my eyes quickly to jerk my brain off that slippery slope before it passes the point of no return.We’re here to talk, not fora repeat of Friday night, I remind myself.Why the hell not?, my inner ho yells back.
“C’mon, Kendra. We both know you’re not out with me now for my pretty face.”
I bristle, worried he’ll talk down about himself again. I won’t let him insult one of my favorite people.
“No?” I ask carefully.
Damon sends me a sly smile.
“No way. You’re really here for my big, fat—”
