“What do you think?” I said, taking a step backward so she could see the effect.
“I definitely like the color. Dramatic, like you pointed out,” she said. “But it’s hard to tell from that little segment.”
“Let me paint a larger section of the wall and then we’ll decide.” I dipped the brush again and this time drew longer strokes across the pale wall. Mom got busy unloading a box of her beeswax candles.
“When’s the last time you talked to your father?” I could hear the tightness in her voice.
For a while, I’d secretly been afraid that I’d caused my parents’ divorce. That what they’d gone through after my accident had placed an inordinate amount of strain on their marriage. But Mom had reminded me that they hadn’t been getting along for a long time, and that revelation had forced me to recognize the truth.
What my recovery had done was exacerbate how much my parents didn’t see eye to eye. And that’s another reason why I hadn’t put much stake in relationships in the years after. If one traumatic event had sent three guys out of my life, I figured I wouldn’t be very good at making the other parts of relationships work, either.
“I talked to Daddy yesterday,” I said, still making even brushstrokes. “We’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow.”
“Good,” she said, now arranging the Shea butter soaps on the corner display.
I wanted to ask her if she had any regrets about divorcing my father. If she truly was happy now with her new husband, John. But I’d work up to it slowly. I could always talk straight to my mom, but some subjects were touchier than others.
“So how does it feel being home?” she asked. I could hear the caution in her voice. She knew that being back in town brought on a mixed bag of feelings.
“It feels strange, to be honest,” I said, pulling out another small brush to test the other color sample.
“I understand, honey,” she said, getting to her feet and admiring her handiwork. “But time has passed, and you’ve grown into a gorgeous young lady. Nobody remembers you as that girl. Heck, I’m your mom and even I don’t recognize you anymore.”
I laughed louder than I’d intended and shook my head.
“What’s so funny?” She turned toward me and squeezed my shoulder.
“Kai said practically the same thing to me this morning,” I offered, while dabbing the new color onto the far side of the wall.
She raised her eyebrows. “He certainly knows you pretty well. What do you think he meant by it?”
There was no way in hell I was going to tell her that Kai said it after indicating he knew what I’d been doing in my free time at the university. “I think he meant that I was tougher than the last time he saw me.”
“Well, I’d certainly agree with that,” she said, and now I wondered what changes she’d noticed about me—outside of shortened visits home and phone calls that consisted only of talking about classes and news about friends.
“So it’s going okay living with your two childhood friends?” she asked. “I’ll admit I was surprised to hear that Kai was back and crashing at her place, too.”
I wasn’t about to tell her why Kai had returned so suddenly. She’d find out eventually, anyway. Somehow I felt protective over him, maybe the same way he’d been over me.
“It’s great,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want an apartment with that view?”
“True,” Mom said. “They’ve always been good kids. And hopefully Kai has matured over the past few years as well?”
Oh, he’s matured all right, I’d wanted to say, but I held my tongue.
“I think so,” I said.
I thought about my childhood with Kai and felt that fear in the pit of my stomach again about ruining things with him.
“Oh, the trouble the three of you would get into, especially when Kai was around.”
I would always egg Kai on. Or dare him to do something silly or crazy, and he’d always take me up on it. Little did my mom know that I had been the instigator, and Kai had had a hard time backing down from a challenge. Dakota always ratted us out. She had always been a total tattletale and daddy’s girl.
“Well, your daughter only pretended to be an angel,” I said, with a smirk on my face. “Kai just took up for me most of the time.”
She looked up from her box of lotions, her eyebrows bunched together. “No way.”
I nodded. “Way.”
“Sheesh, the things parents find out after the fact.” She got this wistful glint in her eye. “That explains why he was so great with you in the hospital. He’s a caretaker, that one.”
I had never thought of Kai in that way. But when she put it like that, it made sense. He was definitely great at music, and he was also a loyal and compassionate friend.
“I always thought he’d make a great husband someday,” she said, lost in thought. “After he was done sowing his wild oats. Kids probably don’t even use that phrase nowadays.”
Old-fashioned saying or not, my skin heated at her words. The way his fingers felt against mine. His mouth.
“I’m pretty sure he’s the same old Kai with the girls. Doesn’t seem to want to be with one person. He’s still kind of a lost soul.” A beautiful and sexy lost soul. “He’s going to work at the casino this summer and figure out what he wants to do.”
“He’ll settle down one day,” Mom said. “And so will you.”
I looked away and considered whether or not to be truthful. “I’m not sure I want to, Mom.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, striding over to me. “Is that because of what happened between your father and me?”
“Things don’t ever stay the same,” I said, stepping back and admiring my paint job. “Things change. People change. I’ve learned that lesson, at least.”
“But some people do get it right the first time,” she said, her voice quiet. Filled with regret. She grabbed for my hand and squeezed. “It’s just that your father and I didn’t. And even still, we did get one thing right. You.”
I clasped her fingers in mine, but I didn’t want this turning into a tear fest, so I changed the subject. “So, which color do you like best, Mom?”
Chapter Eleven
Kai
I pulled out the Raisin Bran and mumbled a good morning to Dakota and Rachel, who were at the table in their pajamas drinking coffee and eating toast. It was easy to act natural in front of Rachel, given our friendship. But altogether another struggle to keep my gaze from wandering over her bare legs, given our intimacy the other night.
This was what Rachel had been afraid of—this awkwardness—so I needed to make it work. I wanted to keep her in my life in whatever capacity she wanted me. I’d play the part and do it well. Because even doing all the normal, everyday things with her felt too perfect, too seamless, too right.
She filled up all the quiet places inside of me. Even if I could have only this pure and unconditional part without the other—her heart-stopping kisses and sexy noises—I’d take it. Because if she walked away, severed our ties completely, I might never recover.
I sat down across from Rachel, and as my long legs searched for space beneath the square table I accidentally brushed my calf against hers. I saw her shoulders give a little shiver before she moved her feet away without looking at me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled into my bowl, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. We were used to being around one another, so thankfully Dakota had no clue that anything had gone down between Rachel and me.
“What time do you head in today?” Dakota asked.
“In about an hour,” I said around a mouthful of cereal.
“Dad might not admit it, but he likes having you at the casino,” Dakota said. “Mom, too.”
Rachel peeked at me over the top of her coffee cup, her green eyes clear, like a cellophane wrapper.
I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Dakota pointed her buttered toast across the table. “So don’t fuck it up.”
As a flash of heat stretched across my neck, I noticed how Rachel’s eyes widened. She never got involved in our sibling arguments, so I knew she’d keep her mouth shut this time, too. But I was not in the mood for Dakota’s bullshit this morning and especially not in front of Rachel.
More than anything, I didn’t want Rachel to see me as a fuckup anymore.
“Damn, sis,” I said, raising my coffee cup in a salute. “Thanks for your support.”
“C’mon, Kai,” she said. “You’ve already got the entire female staff panting after you.”
“And somehow that’s my fault?” I refused to look at Rachel, but I caught her frown in my peripheral vision. Great, she was already siding with my sister. “I’m not trying to hook up with anybody from work.”
“Yeah, right. The only rule at the casino is that you can’t gamble,” she said. “The tribal nation doesn’t specify dating co-workers.”
“And?”
“I saw you chatting up Meadow the other night.”
“What the hell, Dakota?” As I stood up in a huff, my chair toppled on two legs and almost crashed to the floor. “So I can’t be friends with co-workers? I’m supposed to keep to myself and talk to nobody?”
She scrunched up her face at my display. “You know what I mean.”
I rinsed my bowl in the sink, suddenly losing my appetite.
“Not sure I know at all what you mean,” I mumbled.
“Since when do you know the company policy for dating co-workers?” Rachel asked, her eyebrows wiggling playfully at Dakota.
Dakota gave her a warning look. I strode to the kitchen island to refill my coffee cup.
“See what a hypocrite you’re being? Besides, you haven’t been around me in three years,” I said, throwing her earlier comment back in her face. “Maybe I actually had a serious girlfriend in Amsterdam who you know nothing about.”
Both Dakota’s and Rachel’s jaws fell open at that revelation. God, I was just digging myself a deeper grave.
“Seriously?” I ran a hand through my hair. “Is that really a breaking news story?”
“What’s her name?” Dakota asked, her eyes narrowed in a challenge.
I noisily placed my mug on the table and reached for the sugar bowl. “What?”
“Name the girl you dated,” she said. “Off the top of your head . . . and go.”
Suddenly my brain was a blank canvas. I had dated two girls for about a month each until I realized the relationships just weren’t working for me. One of them agreed to the mutual split. But the other was furious with me, spewing all kinds of obscenities in Dutch. It was actually kind of sexy. I’d been attracted to her, but I didn’t think we had anything in common besides good sex.
But under Dakota’s and Rachel’s scrutiny—two of the most important women in my life—I just couldn’t remember the names of the girls I’d shared my bed with for more than one night.
“Told you so,” Dakota said.
Rachel dug back into her toast, her expression unreadable.
What did she think of me now? Maybe what she always had. That I was a guy nobody could pin down. And that no longer sat well with me.
“Screw you,” I said, and headed out of the room. “Going to shower.”
Thirty minutes later I emerged from my room dressed in black jeans and a red Golden Arrow T-shirt that Stuart had scored for me to replace that itchy polyester jacket.
Dakota was sprinting around the apartment trying to get her last-minute work things in order. She resembled Mom, with her elegance and professionalism in her gray skirt and black heels, despite having dark hair and olive skin.
“See you later,” she said to me. Just as Dakota pulled open the door to breeze into the hallway, Rachel’s voice rang out.
“Are we out of shower gel, Dakota? I couldn’t find any under the sink or in the linen closet.”
“Shoot,” Dakota said, training her eyes on me. “I thought I bought more.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, edging the door shut. “She can use regular old soap from my shower.”
“Boys.” Dakota rolled her eyes and then turned for the bank of elevators. “Tell Rachel she needs to bring home the good stuff from her mom’s shop.”
There were three bedrooms and one utility area in my sister’s condo, and compared to my tiny rented bedroom in Amsterdam, it seemed like a warehouse instead of a closet. Dakota’s master suite was on the east end of the living room along with Rachel’s bedroom and the bathroom they shared. My bed and bath were located on the other end.
That was cool by me because a lot of chicks always had their makeup and lotions and perfumes spread all over the counter, and it drove me nuts. Dudes like me are low maintenance because we don’t need much—just deodorant, soap, shampoo, and a toothbrush.
Don’t get me wrong, all of those products help girls look and smell damn good, but if I could avoid having to share a space with a woman, I would at all costs. Though I might make an exception for one girl in particular.
As I headed down the hallway toward Rachel, I suddenly realized how something as normal as discussing toiletries with a roommate now felt too intimate.
“Dakota had to leave for work,” I said from outside the bathroom door. “She said you should bring some shower stuff home from your mom’s shop today.”
I heard her muffled voice. “Yeah, I could do that.”