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My breathing is the only thing that echoes off the walls, punctuating the tense silence that envelopes us. I force myself to turn back around, but my face is a twisted mask of frustration and despair. The weight of defeat hangs heavy in the air between us. “It’s complicated, Kaye.”
The teasing, the spanking, the touching myself when no one’s around—I’m a mess of complications of my own making. “It’s like all the sex dreams you’re having about Xavier,” I remind her that her life is just as strange and deranged as my own. “Except it’s my reality.”
Kaye’s face remains passive momentarily before her lips curve into a frown. “Are you having sex with Niccolo?”
There’s a hint of judgment in her tone. I don’t know if it’s intentional or subconscious. Either way, when I tell her no, it’s the truth. He might have bared my backside in front of him and let his fingers slip into places they didn’t belong, but there has been absolutely zero sex to be had. And to tell the truth, it’s making me cranky. “Are you having sex with Xavier?” I shoot back at her, trying to change the subject.
A soft blush creeps up her cheeks, a deep shade of pink that hints at her embarrassment. She lowers her gaze before shyly admitting that she is, at least in her dreams.
I didn’t see that coming. My jaw falls open, and it takes me a moment to regain my wits. “I’m not doingthatwith Nic.” Just seconds ago, I thought she was judging me for potentially sleeping with my stepfather. Now, here I am doing the same thing to her over her sex dreams about her stepbrother. We’re quite the pair.
Kaye interprets my silence as an admission of guilt. “But you’re doingotherthings,” she insinuates.
And I realize immediately that the frustration I’ve been feeling is all this bottled-up resentment at not having someone to talk to about everything that’s been happening. I’ve been keeping all these emotions pent up, hiding secrets from Kaye that I should have confided in her weeks ago. We’re best friends, and instead, I treated her like an outsider. Of all the people I could have trusted with my indiscretions, Kaye is the only one I know who never would have judged me.
Overwhelmed by my feelings, I instinctively cover my face with my hands and fling myself backward onto the soft mattress. My body shakes as I try to contain the flood of feelings welling up inside me. “You can’t tell anyone, Kaye.” I am overcome by a surge of emotions as I recount to her all that has happened in the past few weeks.
“This is disrespectful to my mother, not to mention the rest of the family. You have no idea what the Terlizzis are going to do when they find out. Or, God forbid, my uncles.” Giovanni will tear Niccolo apart piece by bloody piece. And then, when my stepfather is dead, he’ll inflict even worse agony on me.
As if sensing my distress, Kaye diverts the conversation. She hastily retrieves her phone and dials her mother’s number. They chat for a few moments about my attendance while I wallow inself-pity until Kaye mentions something about me going through her closet. It perks me right up because I love a good makeover.
Kaye’s fashion sense has always been lacking. Her clothing choices are a chaotic mix of floral dresses and high-necked shirts that favor conservatism over comfort. I push aside the thoughts of my stepfather and the illicit events that have occurred between the two of us in favor of thinking about how I’m going to makeover my best friend.
Thank God for Kaye. She always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better. Therapists often have therapists of their own to talk about the things that stress them out; that’s what Kaye is for me. But she’s better than a trained professional because we can put on some pajamas and face masks and talk until 2 am—free of charge.
Chapter 18
Christine
When we show up at the million-dollar mansion Malcolm bought for Carrie as a wedding present, Kaye and I are caught off guard by a handsome, smiling stranger who looks oddly familiar. I can’t put my finger on it, but I swear I’ve seen him before.
Bright blue eyes twinkle with delight as he greets us by name, knowing who we are before we can even process his presence here. He wears a comforting, warm smile as he introduces himself. I offer him my hand, and when he takes it in his, my stomach twists with desire. His skin is warm and inviting, and I swear I feel a spark of electricity between us.Maybe he’ll be the one to get my mind off Niccolo.
“I’m Jackson, a friend of Carrie’s.” And for the first time in my life, I wish I was Carrie Pennington. I have guy friends, but none of them look like Jackson, not even Theo.
Jackson guides us to the kitchen for dinner, where the tantalizing aroma of homemade pasta and freshly baked garlic bread fills the air. Carrie is bent over in front of the oven, checking on the bubbling, golden-brown lasagna inside. Mystomach grumbles loudly, a reminder that I neglected to eat today. The hours of studying consumed me to the point that lunch slipped my mind. I sneak over to a crudite tray and surreptitiously grab a carrot while Jackson and Carrie wax poetically about some charity event they met at a couple of months ago.
The way they look at one another makes me wonder what secrets Carrie is keeping from her daughter. I know what it looks like when two people want one another, and I’d be willing to bet that Carrie and Jackson are dating.
She and Malcolm only just split up, but she looks at Jackson like he hung the moon. If the two of them aren’t banging yet, it’s only a matter of time.
But Kaye doesn’t like him. Her eyes narrow as she pelts him with rapid-fire questions, hoping to pierce his façade. The tension between them is palpable, like two cats facing off in a territorial dispute. While she seethes in uncertainty about her mother’s new suitor, I’m forced to keep the conversation going through dinner. Carrie sits back and lets her beau do all the talking, and when Kaye runs out of questions to ask, the bulk of the transaction is left to me.
I flirt with him. Frankly, it’s hard not to. With his chiseled jawline and sparkling eyes, he exudes a natural charm and charisma that draws me in. He effortlessly turns even the most serious topics into lighthearted banter while knowing when to dive deeper into a subject to share his insightful opinions. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Jackson is trying to impress me. But Idoknow better, and I have a feeling that he’s this way with everyone.
After dinner, Jackson leans toward me to whisper, “I’m sure you’ve been in the garden outside, but how about you give me a tour?”
Kaye gives me a pleading look, and I read in her eyes that she wants to talk to her mother alone. I get to my feet and hold out a hand for Jackson. “I’d love to. I’ll show you all the hiding spots in the maze.” The two Penningtons begin chatting in hushed tones before we’re even out of the house.
“I bet this wasn’t how you thought you’d meet your new girlfriend’s daughter, eh?” I ask as we head to the backyard. The elaborate garden maze glimmers in the distance, twinkling beneath the late November moon. As we approach, the rustle of fallen leaves crunch underfoot.
“She isn’t my girlfriend, Christine. We’re just friends. You know that.” Jackson isn’t the type to be led into easy confidences, and he smiles while politely correcting me.
A scoff escapes my lips, harsh and unladylike. Carrie and Jackson might have successfully fooled Kaye with their lies, but I am not so easily swayed. “AllI know is that Carrie is married to a rich and powerful man who won’t take too kindly to his wife fooling around with someone younger and more attractive.” I peep under my eyelashes at Jackson, but the look on his face never changes. “That’shisarea of expertise, if you catch my drift.”
He nods in agreement as we meander across the lawn. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him taking in the sights of the well-trimmed, perfectly manicured backyard. I wonder if he envies the McCade money as much as I do. My family was never poor, but we’ve never had the kind of wealth to afford a million-dollarhome in the rich part of Manhattan. And Jackson looks like he grew up even poorer than me.
“So, if you’re not dating Carrie, are you seeing someone else?” I ask when he doesn’t respond after a while.
