Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) (8 page)

What they all have in common is the fact that they're all stunningly beautiful and should be cover models, and possibly are all thinking at that point in time that they're “the one”—topping it off with the fact that they all look to come from wealthy backgrounds.

This information only fuels my bad mood, which lifted briefly when Kyle showed up. I don’t doubt for one moment that I would have been the thorn in his Mother’s side if things had turned out differently. If we hadn’t moved and if the gates of hell hadn’t opened up on me.

I visited hell last night, going over and over everything in my head. Taking out what I called my diary and reliving everything. I couldn’t sleep because of the fact that I went over every scenario in my head, planning and plotting ways I could tell him and how he’d react. None of them were good. But I’ve always come to the realization that if you expect the worst, you can’t be disappointed.

At ten to five, I start becoming anxious. He isn't back with my keys and I really don't want to hang around here longer than I need to. I start tapping away at the desk again with my pen, watching the time tick by.

“Hey,” Nod shouts, “less of the...” she taps away at her desk. “Don't think for one second you’re getting out of here without talking to me. We are
so
definitely talking.”
 

Chucking the pen on the desk I look at her and scowl, “I told you, I'd tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow? Why not now?”

“Because...I'm really not sure what I'm ready to tell yet, for one, and two, this is a conversation for me and you, not the whole freakin' office,” I say through gritted teeth, but then look at the other two girls and smile apologetically towards them.

“Not ready? You’re really not helping yourself.”

“Yeah, well, some things are hard to talk about. It might not mean anything to anyone else, but that part of my life meant a lot to me!”

She groans irritatedly, throwing her hands in the air. “Fine. But I'm telling you now, I will, one way or another, get the full picture. It might not be tomorrow, but I will.”

With that, we left it on her promise, or threat.

It's finally finishing time, and Nod comes around and gives me a hug before she leaves.

I'm stood waiting in the office like a lost part, while I wait for someone whose time keeping seems to be appalling.

It was stupid of me to give him the keys in the first place. Why do it? I don’t even know him anymore, not really. So, why just pretend like everything is normal between us? Why? Was I blindsided by him bringing me my lunch that I momentarily forgot? Forgetting that we aren’t kids and even though it felt stupidly normal and acceptable it’s not. I don’t think it’s just him that’s trying to pick up where we left off, it feels like I am too. Letting him back in my life and acting like nothing changed. Well, it has. A lot has changed and not for the better. Nothing can move forward with us until we’ve dealt with the past. Not that you can deal with it, it lives with me everyday. But he has the right to know the whole story and why I had a bigger need to get in contact with him. It wasn’t just for love.

At about ten past, after I've paced the office about ten times, he finally runs through the office doorway, slightly disheveled and out of breath. “Sorry. I got held up.”

“That's fine. I love staying here longer than I need to,” I reply sarcastically. “Have you got my keys?”

“Here,” he says as he digs through his jacket pocket and hands them to me. “I found my cell, too.”

“Oh goodie.” I sigh. “Couldn't it have waited? You had to come up here and blab your mouth?”

“Nah. It was funnier coming up here and seeing their reaction. I knew you wouldn't tell them, you always did keep shit like that to yourself.”

I chuck my keys in my purse, “Well, thanks for that. I now have an interrogation coming up tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” he asks as he shoves his hands into his pant pockets. “So, you’re free tonight?”

“Yes, why?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to come back to mine?” he says, slipping a hand out his pocket and taking my free, now shaking hand.

I try and concentrate on him and not the feeling of my heart somersaulting in my chest. “Yours? Will Josie mind?”

“Josie? You been asking about me Miss James?”

I snatch my hand away from his, crossing my arms over my chest feeling uncomfortable. “No. It was just mentioned.”

He looks at me like he knows I'm lying, but doesn't pursue it any longer. “So, what do you say? You going to come to mine or what? I really just wanna crash out on the couch with you and watch a movie, like old times, and we can't do that at yours. Those things you call couches are painful.”

“Aww, can't you hack it in your old age?” I tease.

“Less of the old. You'll be my age next year.”

“Yes,” I say, stabbing my finger into his chest, “but you'll still be that year older than me. I won't let you forget that.”

After a lot of delegation I give in. I came up with every excuse under the sun to get out of it, but he wouldn’t let me win it. My head and heart is going through turmoil and he thinks I’m just being a pain in the ass. If only he knew what was really happening inside my skull, maybe then he’d understand why being the old is painful.

It's a short ride to Kyle's.

We pull up outside a huge apartment complex; two white buildings fill most of the land, the while rest is filled with amenities and a parking lot. It has a modern Spanish vibe to it, with its terracotta roof, square carved columns and angled balconies.

I'm a nervous wreck as we're standing side-by-side, silently, in the private elevator to his apartment. It makes me uneasy as he punches the code in the keypad. He’s clearly hiding it from me-not that I'd ever have need to use it-but it makes me think of all the women I'd seen on Google earlier. Maybe it's a habit, maybe he always does this when he brings a female back. That gets me thinking about why I'm actually here. Is he planning on me being another notch on the headboard? An old notch, I'll give you that, but am I just here to dig all the dirt and grime out of said notch? God, I hate thinking.

By the time the bell pings, the onset of nerves is getting the better of me. My stomach is rolling, my skin becoming clammy and it feels like I'm standing in a blazing fire-
phew!
 

I follow him out, walking behind him like the floor is made of Jell-O and not limestone. The coldness of the apartment hits me like an iceberg, and I'm thankful of it.

He really hasn't gone to town on this place with decoration, although with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, you really don't need any.

Slowly walking into the kitchen, placing my purse on the gray stone countertop, I watch, leaning back against a counter, as he walks into the living area, shrugging out of his black suit jacket and placing it on the back of the couch. My eyes fixated on the movement of his back, like I have x-ray vision and can see every curve and dip of his flesh underneath.

When he turns, I quickly have to shake myself out of my trance, but I think he caught me ‘cause he's giving me a roguish smile as he walks back over. “Are you okay? You seem quiet.” He asks as he comes to lean over the glass table at the end of the breakfast bar.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” I smile, “just admiring the place. You've done good for yourself.”

He shrugs. “Not really. My Uncle built the stepping stones for me and then I started building my empire.”

His Mom was an only child. Her parents didn't have much in life, but her Uncle did. He had no children of his own, and always promised her that he’d take care of her if she needed it. When she fell pregnant with Kyle, he made sure she had a nice house for them to live in. Mr. Cooper was always out at work trying to keep his wife happy and catered for. Although at the time Kyle insisted he wasn’t interested, he told me his Uncle, well his Mom’s, promised him that he could take over the company when he retired. I guess he changed his mind.

“Yeah, I know, but you've still done good. I'm proud of you,” I state.

“Aww, C.J., you getting soft on me?” he mocks, leaning up on one elbow and pressing his free hand over his heart.

I look at him sternly, and tell him slowly to, “Fuck. Off.”

He laughs softly. Standing back upright, he comes over and takes my hand. Butterflies start fluttering around in my stomach and chest, like they’re hyped up on some kind of energizing drug. If this is how I'm going to react to him again, I may have to keep my distance. If not I'll be having a heart attack by the end of the week.

I follow behind him as he walks into an equally large room. It's minimal, except the enormous television and huge, comfy looking couches. Again my eyes are attracted to the glistening ocean that reaches out, till the edge of the earth.

He releases my hand before taking a seat, bouncing around like a child on a bouncy house. “These are so much comfier than those things you call couches. I wouldn't let a stray dog sit on those things.”

I take a seat beside him, knowing too well that I'm sitting looking like the new girl in new surroundings. “I'm sure a stray dog would love my chaise lounges. I can live with them for now,” I say, a little defensive.

He quickly gets up, kicks off his shiny black dress shoes and then takes both my hands and lifts me off the huge marshmallow. “Hey! I was comfy.”

“Sorry. You need to get out of that dress.”

My body goes rigid. I'm sure he just told me to get out of my dress. Would he really say that? Is that all I'm here for? “Excuse me?” I ask, shock evident in my quivering, quiet tone.

He chuckles, then pulls me closer, lifting my chin with his finger, and I can see a flashback of us the other night, in this same scenario… minus melted ice-cream. “You heard me. You can't crash in this thing,” he says, pinching the fabric of my dress. I slap his hand away like his prints will ruin it. “There's something for you to wear in my room.”

“Seriously K.C.,” I say, my mind beginning to race with thoughts of him getting me in his room, alone. Although some old memories do mix into them, and they aren't all bad. “I'll be fine in this, don't worry about it.”

He drags me by the hand, regardless, starting the tirade of the butterflies again. “No. Come on C.J., I just want this to be like old times. Me and you dressed up like adults aren't going to cut it,” he says, well, whines.

I look into his eyes, remembering all the fun times we had, sometimes, like now, not doing anything of great importance, just-us. I miss that; I've missed a lot. Do I really want to try and fight this when I know I'll regret it? No, no I don't. I flick my heels off and kick them into the side of the couch. With the roll of the eyes and a flick of the hand, I give him the go ahead to get me out of my adult clothes.

He leads me down a long corridor, to the room right at the end. When he opens it, I'm surprised to actually feel warmth and homeliness.

The pale brown walls, somehow, make you feel like you’re being cuddled the moment you walk in. There's a large blue rug that covers most of the limestone floor and a bed that takes center stage.

Kyle starts digging through the dresser, searching for “crashing clothes.” I take a seat on the brown, leather chair that sits in front of the French doors that lead to the balcony and stunning sea view. I'm lazily swiveling side-to-side when he flicks on the bedside lamp. The night sky has slowly taken over all natural light in here and the hallway light isn't cutting it for his search.

The image of some blue daisies catches my eyes, a gasp escaping my lips before I can stop it. “Oh. My. God. You kept that? All these years?” I ask as I walk over to the black and white canvas of the sea, with three large daisies that sit on a branch, their bright blue petals standing out.

I always imagined it was the moon that made them shine in color. To me it said, “No matter how black and white your life can be, it's the simple things that add the color.” I can't believe that it's still living, and sitting pride of place above his bed.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It wasn't one of life's great memories, but, it was still a memory. It was being sold in a gallery, one of the local artists had painted it and was asking for more than I could possibly give. Every day I walked past it, and every day it caught my eye and I fell in love with it even more.

After a couple of months, I walked past and noticed that the painting was gone. It had been sold and I felt stupidly upset and angry. It was ridiculous because it was just a painting and it was something I never owned.

After that, I stormed back home, extremely pissed off that someone out there had something I wanted. I stomped up the stairs, irritated that I didn't have it, even after walking five blocks. I was irritated that I was still irritated.

I walked into my room and crapped myself. Kyle was sitting on the bed looking like a smiling idiot. I snapped at him for being in such a good mood, when all I wanted to do was hit some unknown person for buying something they didn't know I wanted.

I think he realized why I was pissed because he didn't beat around the bush. He spun me around to face the wall that I had my back too and found the painting hung on my wall. I burst into tears of happiness and then shouted at him for spending a stupid amount of money on a painting for me.