Who am I kidding? He could be named Watch-Out-I-Have-a-Rash and women would sleep with him. He was hot.
And I’d been drunk. Oh, so drunk.
Thank God nothing happened.
At least, I’m ninety-nine percent certain nothing did.
Although, I do remember taking my dress off.
Kenzi cringed. Then he put it back on. Yeah, that’s a sign if ever there was one.
So much for using that memory to make me feel better.
Without opening her eyes Kenzi took out her phone and said, “Willa.” The best cure for her mood was to talk with a good friend. Willa Chambers and her twin sister, Lexi, had been Kenzi’s best friends since they’d met in boarding school. They’d seen her through some rough years and never pushed her to explain what had fueled her bad choices. Even though they were her age, she often turned to them as someone would to older sisters. Although they’d claimed their decision to move to Boston had been job related, she knew the truth. They loved her as much as she loved them. She couldn’t imagine her life without them.
“Kenzi, how was your trip? Do you feel better?”
“Much,” Kenzi lied.
“I know how important that reality show was to you. Have you talked to your family about it yet? Maybe you can convince them to reconsider.”
“Not worth it. I’m over it.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
Kenzi sighed. “It was a silly idea, anyway. I’ve never seen my mother as happy as she has been lately. She’s planning Asher and Emily’s wedding, helping Emily prepare for the opening of her museum, and picking out names for their children. Why would I want to do anything that could threaten that?”
“That’s a lot of Emily.”
“Having her around has been good for my mother. I’m happy Asher found her.”
“Liar.”
“I’m trying, Willa. Isn’t that good enough?”
“You have to pretend with them, but you don’t have to with me. Remember what you said to Lexi and me when we asked you how you could tell us apart when no one else could? You said it’s because you see us. US. Not just our features or how we dress. Well, I see you, Kenzi. And I’m not your mother. You don’t have to watch everything you say to me. So you don’t love your future sister-in-law. So what? She practically moved in with your parents for a while. I don’t know how I’d feel if my parents tossed me out in my teens but took in some strange woman like she was their long-lost daughter.”
“Easy on the understanding, Willa; it’s not making me feel better.” Kenzi sat up and stretched. “I don’t dislike Emily. It’s not her fault my family is fucked up.”
“So, what will you do now?”
“Maybe nothing. I don’t have to work. My trust fund can support me.”
“First, when you talk like that I want to slap you. It’s really hard for me to pity you when you go all sad-rich-girl on me. Second, you’re not a child anymore. You can make your own decisions now. If you want to do a reality show, take some of that trust fund and film it yourself.”
“My family would never let it be seen.”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. Excuses. If you want this, Kenzi, fight for it. Tell your story.”
“No matter who it hurts?”
“Whatever you’re holding in is tearing you apart, Kenzi.”
“There are things I’ve never told you, Willa.” Sober, Kenzi pushed back the dark memories that threatened to wash over her at the mere mention of that time. It was a battle she’d fought and won within herself countless times in the past.
“And you never have to, unless you want to. Those who love you will stand with you when you tell your story, and those who don’t—you don’t need them.”
Kenzi brought a shaking hand to her mouth. Willa made it sound so easy. “I don’t know if I can risk being the reason my mother suffers more than she already has.”
“Your mother will survive.”
“Ian will never forgive me if it affects his political career.”
“He loves you. He’ll work it out. He always does.”
“How can you be so sure about what I should do when my head is pounding from nerves just at the thought of hiring my own film team?”
“Oh, that’s easy, because I’m looking on instead of facing this myself. In the end, Kenzi, it doesn’t matter what I think. Do what you can live with. I’ll love you, regardless.”
Kenzi wiped away a stray tear that ran down her cheek. How many times had she yearned to hear those words from her parents or brothers? Too many. Although Willa’s speech had been inspiring, Kenzi wasn’t sold on going forward with the show herself.
After so many years of keeping everything inside so she wouldn’t upset anyone, could she defy her family and expose her pain to the world? Wouldn’t it be better to continue to bury the memories, push past how she felt, and choose the welfare of her family over her selfish desire to be heard?
How long can I pretend I’m fine before I shatter beneath the weight of the truth?
After hanging up with Willa, Kenzi rode the rest of the way to her Boston apartment in silence. Her driver parked then escorted her to her door.
“I’ll be out here if you need me,” he said.
“Of course you will be,” Kenzi said with a sad smile and closed the door between them. Almost instantly, she whipped the door back open and said, “I’ll pay you double whatever my family offered if you don’t tell them anything you see me do or say.”
The man looked at her long and hard until she was sure he’d refuse. Then he said, “My normal fee is fine. I’ll bill you instead and sign a non-disclosure.”
Surprised at how easy that had gone, Kenzi asked, “How much would it cost for you to stop following me around?”
A faint smile curled the man’s lips. “They’d only send someone else.”
“What if you simply promise that I won’t see you?”
He nodded in agreement.
“Do you have a family?”
“Yes, ma’am. A wife and two kids.”
“Are they in Boston?”
“Bellingham.”
“Do you like your job?”
“It pays the bills and allows me to save some on the side. My wife can stay home if she wants. Between my shifts my brother, Josh, will be with you.”
“You’re in business with your brother?”
“Since we shook kids down for their lunch money together in kindergarten.”
“You’re joking.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Call me Kenzi.” Kenzi let out a long breath. She knew what she was doing. It was how she’d always survived. She looked for something to like when situations were otherwise intolerable and clung to it. It was how she’d kept her silence as long as she had. She knew how to bury how she felt and focus on one small good thing as if it were a treasure. “I look forward to meeting your brother.”
Parker nodded and turned his back in a stance that said he’d be stationed outside her door. As if he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, he added, “Your family hired me because they care about you. At the end of the day, family is all that really matters.”
Kenzi nodded and closed the door. She rested against it for a moment. That’s what I keep telling myself, but it’s not that simple.
A short time later Kenzi was stretching on her yoga mat when the bellman called up, saying she’d received a delivery. She told him to send it up. She opened the door and cocked her head to the side when she received a wrapped gift box. She placed it on the coffee table in her living room and opened the card that a
ccompanied it.
“You are stronger than whatever you are facing. Dax Marshall,” she read aloud.
With shaking hands, Kenzi unwrapped the gift he had sent. It was an iPod. She turned it on and saw it came with music preloaded. She hit play and the sound of ocean waves filled her living room.
She didn’t ask herself why he’d sent the gift. She didn’t want to think about how a man who didn’t know her at all knew her so well. She curled up on her couch, gave herself over to the tears she’d held in for so long, and let the sound of the waves wash them away as they always had.
She fell asleep, and it was the most peaceful sleep she’d had in a long time.
Several days later, Dax was back in his London office, snapping at everyone who had the misfortune of walking through his door. Jetlag didn’t normally bother him, but he hadn’t slept well since he’d returned from the Bahamas. He should be in a better mood. Negotiations with Max Andrade were progressing and promising. He was readying himself to turn his attention back to the matter of Poly-Shyn.
A question was eating at him, though, and he finally gave in to it. He walked into his secretary’s office and asked, “Kate, did you track the package I had you send?”
Kate was in her late twenties and single, but she didn’t bring her personal life into the office, and Dax didn’t normally involve her in his. She had, however, handled his detailed request for Kenzi’s gift without hesitation. She looked down quickly and checked her computer. “I did. It arrived that day and was signed for.”
“By Miss Barrington?”
“No, a man. She probably has someone receive packages for her.”
Dax frowned as he snapped, “Then how do I know if she actually got it?”
“Would you like me to call her and confirm delivery?”
“No, I would not,” Dax growled and walked back into his office, slamming the door behind him.
