Indebted: Part Three (Series Finale): The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire (A BWWM Billionaire Romance) (2 page)

"I'm not putting it on you, calm down," she holds her hands up like a POW surrendering to the enemy side. "I understand how that stupid bitch shook you up, ok? But, I don't think Matthew did anything wrong here. Yes, he originally tracked you down to make things right, but then he genuinely fell in love with you. Why can't you believe that?"

I try to shake the embedded memory of Marjorie's smug little face free from my mind. The vivid details of that day swirl in front of my eyes as I flashback to her standing there in Matthew’s lobby. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement as she explained how she used her father's company to lure me in and then exploited the information to dig into my past. She looked so fucking proud of herself. The worst part was how overjoyed she was to tell me about how Matthew's father killed my own Dad while he was drunk at the wheel. "Matthew shouldn't have been looking for me at all, I have three brothers Brianna. Why didn't he spend any time searching for them? Or better yet, why didn't he bother tracking Mama down when she was still with us? If he wanted to make things right, he should've done it with her."

"I'm sure there's a good reason he didn't, Kendra. Why do you always have to assume the worst of people? The fact that he wanted to make up for his father's mistake should tell you that he's a great guy. Instead, you have to turn it into some kind of creepy stalker thing or act like he’s lying about loving you." Brianna’s eyebrows scrunch together as she lets out a deep sigh of frustration, "when he talked to me here," she points at the booth I stumbled upon them sitting at together, "it was so clear that he loved you.”

She stops and checks my face for a reaction, or signs of life, but I don’t even flicker and eyelash. She purses her lips but continues, “like, he was torn up. He knew you wouldn't accept him after you found out why he found you in the first place. And I sat there and told him he was wrong,” she snorts at the memory. “ I actually thought you would get over it, that you would see him for the amazing guy he is. But, sometimes I think you want to choose misery all the time, and I’ve gotta say, it’s getting old fast."

"If that’s how you feel, how about you butt out and let me decide what’s best for my own life! I’m not trying to be miserable; I just don't want to be another one of his charity causes. It just feels weird to me, I mean, why didn't he tell me before that his father killed mine?"

"Probably because he was afraid you'd do this!" She waves her hand at me, disgusted. "Just shut him out at the first opportunity and act like he's a psycho just because he has a conscience. Like, what do you think is going on under the surface here? What ulterior motive do you think he could possibly have?"

"You know what? I don't even want to know. I'm done thinking about Matthew Blackwell, and I'm done fucking talking about him too," I shoot her a look.

"Fine," she purses her lips together into a line so thin it looks like a scar across her face. "I'll say this and then I'll drop it forever: you're making a fucking mistake that you'll never stop regretting. If you search your heart, I think you'll see that the real reason you're running away from him is because you're afraid." She points her finger at me accusingly.

"Oh? What am I so afraid of, Dr. Phil?"

Brianna stiffens at my tone, "Don’t talk to me like that, Kendra. I know you. I know that you're afraid to let yourself be happy again.”

“Pffft,” I roll my eyes, but my stomach twists as her words hit me like a dentist drill without enough novocaine.

She balls her hands into little fists and places them on her hips, “I've watched you pull away from everything ever since your Mama passed. You seem to think that you can just throw everyone away and stay in your shell, and then you can't get hurt again. And maybe you won’t ever get hurt again, but guess what?” Brianna narrows her eyes at me, “You'll never be happy again either."

She let's the idea marinate with me as she walks back out of the dining area and into the back of the restaurant, no doubt to fill her lungs with cigarette smoke. Why does she care so much about this anyway? She should try to get
her
life together, instead of worrying about mine. It’s pretty hard to take romance advice from someone who can’t even share a bed with the same guy more than two nights in a row.

Now that I don’t have a case to defend, self-doubt starts to creep in. Maybe I should go talk to her, I don’t want her to be pissed off at me for the next eight hours. This isn’t how I want to spend my last shift. I gather my cleaning supplies and head back to the kitchen, just as Mr. Taylor and the guys come out carrying a stunning bouquet, with some foil balloons floating next to them. Congratulations! Yells one balloon while the other has a picture of a grad cap frozen in a sea of confetti.

“Kendra! Just the girl I was looking for!” Mr. Taylor’s deep laugh lines show as he greets me with a smile. “You know, I wanted to give you these flowers here to tell you how much I’ve appreciated your time here. I’ve watched you grow up from a lanky kid,” a chuckle ripples through the small group, “to a beautiful young woman.” He hands me the flowers; they’re like nothing I’ve ever seen. Bright orange birds of paradise and yellow lilies are twisted together in a blanket of palm fronds.

“Thank you. They’re so beautiful!” Mr. Taylor puffs up at my approval.

“Well, we know that you’re going to make us proud out there with your big city job. You’ve done good kid,” his voice trembles, and he clears his throat. “So, I’m going to give you the best going away gift anyone in my position can. I’m going to send you home—
with pay
.” He says it like he just handed me a winning lotto ticket, and maybe he has. This shift isn’t off to a great start anyway. He beams with pride and I can’t help but return the smile.

“Wow! Thank you so much.” I give him a quick hug, trying not to crush my flowers. The guys pat me on the back murmuring good wishes as I watch Brianna standing just outside the circle, watching me with a stone cold expression.

"Kendra,” Matthew whispers in my ear, “I've missed you so much." His strong arms have me pulled into him like a second skin. A sweet kiss spreads warmth over my lips like butter melting on hot toast as I press up against him, begging for more.

"Oh Matthew,” I moan, “I missed you too." I'm floating in a warm fog, the world is a blur in the background. My focus is solely on Matthew. I’m lost amongst the intricate weave of gold and green flecks in his sapphire eyes. His rose petal lips hover over mine, asking my skin for permission to cover it in kisses. I’m weightless in his arms, floating in a warm ocean of hope and lust with him. His gentle touch sends a tingle from my neck to my heels when he brushes his wide hand over my hair.

"I need you, Kendra. I need you in my life."

“I need you too. I want to be with you.” Memories tinged with confusion start to settle back into my mind. "Why did you lie? Why didn't you tell me the real reason you found me? I love you, but I can't trust you." Tears stream down my cheeks and over my chin, dripping off to the nothingness surrounding us.

"I didn't lie. Please. Don't do this!"

But it's too late, the distance between us is growing. I've closed off my heart, and he is slowly being pulled back into a vague darkness that is closing in on me. A darkness I've spent my entire life running from. A darkness that always finds me. Wait! Matthew! I try to scream for him to come back, but my lips have merged together. I free fall backward into the darkness.

I jolt up in my bed, covered in gooseflesh that no amount of heavy blankets will take away. My pillow is wet with my tears, again. I've been dreaming about Matthew everyday since I walked out of his condo. I know I miss him, but I can't bring myself to tell him. To tell anyone. I can barely admit it to myself. There’s no way I’m going to get anymore sleep now, these dreams are so jarring. His touch is so enveloping, so tender. Just to be left alone, sucked in by the damp darkness. A shudder runs through me as I remember the feeling of despair that swelled through me.

When will this stop hurting so much? I should be happy right now. Everything is working out for me right now. Got all my ducks in a row, as Mama would say. Yet, I've never felt more lost, more off track. I stare at my phone lying like a black mirror on my desk. I could call him. Or at least text him. Maybe Brianna is right about me; maybe I do always search for the bad in people. I guess if you search long and hard enough, it’ll turn up in everyone.

No. This isn't about me making up some excuse in my mind. This isn't some commitment phobia. Matthew only showed up at the diner that day because he had a conscience to clear. A score to settle. I was just a girl he pitied. Another one of his charity events.

There's no point in lying here anymore, there’s no way I'm going to get any sleep now. I've already spent too many nights restlessly watching the shadows dance across my ceiling as I waited for my eyelids to bless me with sleep. I know from experience that lying here just leads to frustration. I pad across my small bedroom floor and pick up my phone. It displays the time in a neon green shade that feels like thumbs being pushed into my eyeballs.
4:17 am.
Fuck, why does it have to be so early? I don't even have my usual distraction of school work to rely on now that I've finished finals.

In a few days, I'll be walking across the stage with my educational peers at Columbia and grasping the key to my future in my hot little hand. My masters degree. That will be a day to celebrate. Today, however, is a day of mourning. My brothers and I are going to the grave to pay our respects to our parents like we do every year on the anniversary of Mama’s death. We bring flowers and wreaths for both of them since they're lying side by side, just like they do up in heaven now that they’ve been reunited.

This year we're going to Reginal's house for the big supper we have afterward. So far, I haven’t hosted any of the dinners yet. It would be too awkward to try to have a nice home cooked meal here in my tiny apartment with Janelle hovering around the periphery. Of my three older brothers, Reginal is the eldest. I’m looking forward to seeing his four-year-old twins again, even though they’re a handful, they’re a lot of fun. The thing I think I’m the most excited about is eating Paula’s amazing cooking again. Paula is the best cook out of all my brother's wives. My stomach grumbles just thinking about the spread she put together a few years back with slow roasted ham and scalloped potatoes smothered in cheese and croutons.

Issaiah and his wife, Winnie, are picking me up at nine so we can get out to the Rosedale Cemetery in Jersey by eleven. Every year, my brothers and I individually talk to our parents while the others catch up in the park beside the graveyard. I find it cathartic to catch my parents up on what I've been doing. Just talking it out with them out loud helps put my life in perspective. I know they're watching me from above, so I’m not filling them in on anything they don't already know, but somehow it helps to talk through it.

4:36 am.
Stupid phone! Only four hours and twenty minutes left until Winnie and Issaiah get here. Clearly the time is just gonna fly by. Like a slug inching over a path of glass. I guess I’ll get ready now, there’s no use in just sitting here thinking about Matthew anymore. Anything has to be better than that.