Not for me, anyway.
Truthfully, it worked out. I really was too busy with Longbourne for a relationship—the older Dad got, the more responsibility I had. Single-serving companionship was convenient and safe. Sometimes, we enjoyed each other enough to make a regular thing of it. Even with Ali.
It was selfish to indulge myself with her. But I couldn’t seem to say no even if I always left a little emptier than before. Not because she took without giving, but because I remembered all I’d wished for and lost. And yet, I’d go back again and again. Part of me wondered if I was expecting new results. Part of me knew I was. All of me knew I should stop. But none of me would.
I brushed my melancholy away, smiled like the rogue I always pretended to be. “Listen, little brother, it’s not so bad being the king of first dates. I’ve become an excellent conversationalist.”
He snorted a laugh, the tension gone with the sound. “Is that what the kids are calling sex these days?”
I chuckled. “Anyway, it’s not like I can bring chicks here to bone on the bottom bunk, surrounded by posters of Hellboy and Sin City and Queens of the Stone Age.”
“With Mom downstairs.”
“With Mom downstairs. Can you imagine if I brought someone in?”
Luke perked up, screwing his face into a comical impression of our mother. “Why hello, and who are you?” he said in a warbling falsetto, pressing his hand to his chest dramatically. “Kassius is such a good boy, and I hope you’ll consider him. You know, for marriage. He always was my favorite, loves his mother so much.” He pinched his own cheek, glancing angelically at the ceiling. “Give me grandbabies!”
Laughter burst out of me and didn’t stop. He wasn’t far off. “Doesn’t matter. There’s time for all that. I’m only twenty-seven. It’s not like I’ve got an expiration date or something.”
“Maybe Lila’s biological clock is ticking. She and Mom can talk about ovulating and uteruses. Uteri?” His brows quirked.
“She has a boyfriend,” I said. “And again—she’s the opposite of my type.”
“So your type is short, prefers to wear black, has no opinion, and works in public service?”
“Maybe it is,” I answered without answering.
“Right,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Just admit it so we can move on, Kash.”
“She’s hot, and I’d go on a first date with her. Does that make you feel better?”
He sighed, a content smile on his face as he folded his hands on his belly like he’d just had the meal of his life. “It does. It really does.”
Thumping footfalls grew louder, along with the wail for dinner like an ambulance siren from Laney’s mouth.
Luke snagged the papers off the desk and held them up as he stood. “I’ll get these to Tess. I’m sure she’ll have questions. Want me to send her to Lila or you for the answers?”
“Send her to me. I’ll take care of it,” I said without thinking. I could take them to Lila myself.
When he smiled, it was clear I’d stepped right into his trap. “I bet you will.”
With an answering smile on my face, I punched him hard enough in the shoulder to make him yelp.
As I followed him down the stairs, I reminded myself that curiosity killed the cat. Of course, the cat couldn’t help but be curious. Maybe that was why it had nine lives.
Somehow, I didn’t think I’d get so many.
7
Anubis
LILA
Nearly a week passed, and I found myself too busy to think much about Brock. I had dress fittings and bridal showers to coordinate. Caters to direct and musicians to book. Far too much to do to be bothered with thoughts of that asshole or the way my life had been spun around.
During the days, at least. The nights were a different story.
I’d work myself until I could barely stand, let alone have time for idle thoughts. I’d be dead on my feet, dragging myself into bed, and the second the lights went out, my mind came alive with every choice I’d made and ever lie I’d accepted to bring me to that moment.
I wondered if it would get better after I went to the old apartment today to pick up a few things, like my dignity and hopefully the closure I hoped I’d left there.
Of course, today wouldn’t be any less busy than the last week had been. I’d found myself in Longbourne almost every day. Ivy had cut back her hours so deep, she was rarely there when I came. But rather than deal with Tess as expected, I’d been foisted upon Kash in full, it seemed.
A week ago, I might have minded. But after everything that had happened, Kash was the least of my problems. In fact, I’d started to look forward to the dirty gardener with the shaggy hair and the broad shoulders. I could give him all I had, and he’d take it with that lazy smile he always seemed to wear, unaffected and easy as a rule. Somehow it was a comfort, to know that even when I was at my biggest and loudest and most barkey, he could handle it. Handle me.
And I had to admit it was nice to be handled just a little.
I slipped out of my cab, looking up at the Perry building where I worked.
Archer Events was the event company for the New York elite, handling weddings, charity dinners, release parties, and a dozen other events the rich and famous could dream up. When I’d come out of college with my public relations degree from UCLA, Archer was at the top of my list. My résumé catered to their specific needs, my job through college—interning with event planners in Los Angeles—chosen so I could learn from the best of the West in order to get into the best of the East.
It had paid off. Caroline Archer hired me on the spot, impressed by my confidence and proficiency—and my white suit, which was the only expensive thing I owned, a splurge I couldn’t afford. Living in LA, the vast majority of my business casual came from H&M—between my wardrobe, my studio apartment in Culver City, and my ramen noodle budget, I was strapped for cash. Our clients in Beverly Hills said volumes with nothing more than a lingering, silent glance up the length of my body regardless of the fact that I merely filled coffee orders and answered phones.
For a full year, I scrimped and saved, shelling away birthday money from my parents, housesitting, dog walking—any side hustle I could get my hands on. And then I drove my little black Honda Civic to Rodeo Drive, walked into Armani, and bought a white pantsuit that cost almost four months of rent.
That suit, I was convinced, would be my ticket, the fulcrum of my success. I believed so wholly that if I had that suit, I could do anything, achieve everything. I could walk into Archer Events with my head high and back straight, feel their eyes on me as I passed. They would believe I was competent, capable. Someone to be respected.
And I’d manifested my destiny the day I walked into Caroline Archer’s office in my Armani suit and landed my dream job.
Wonder still struck me in unexpected moments, like today, as I walked through the glass doors of Archer’s offices, which resided on the forty-fifth floor of a towering building in Midtown. Shades of pink and creams colored every wall, set off by touches of gold and the occasional pop of navy. The offices were feminine and classic, somehow both soothing and crisp, welcoming and elegant, rich and luxurious.