KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (21 page)

My thoughts are elsewhere. I worry he’ll fall from the playground when Stella lets him outside in the afternoon. I also worry he’ll choke on his breakfast, or break his arm jumping on her king-sized spare bed.

All this has only added to my stress of flying out of state and leaving my only son behind. Not to mention being around Michael…

Returning my focus to the task at hand, I ask, “What do I take with me if I’m not working at the office, but technically still working?”

I don’t wait for Shannan to answer because she wouldn’t have any idea anyway. Instead, I continue to frantically sort through clothes, most of which I haven’t worn in months.

“Honey, come here,” she says, stretching her arms out in my direction. She grabs my shoulders in order to slowly place me on the edge of the bed.

Looking down, she holds a straight face, but her big, brown eyes are filled with humor. Her voice is sweet and reassuring. “I think you’re afraid of him because you like him.”

“I think I’m
insane
because I got drunk after drinking four glasses of wine!”

“
Four
glasses, Lucy Loo? You drank
four
glasses of wine?” she chastises. “Have I taught you nothing? That shit can sneak up on a girl the first time.”

“Shannan.” I sigh, rolling my eyes in frustration. “You’re not helping. Michael’s driver is due here in less than twenty minutes. Our flight leaves in a little over three hours, but I’ve not packed a thing. I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”

Tugging on a piece of my hair, she laughs. “Calm down. It’s fine. So it’s a few days away to a city you’ve never been in. You’ll be locked in a hotel with a man you’ve told me more than once was pretty.”

“Beautiful,” I correct.

“Same thing.”

No, not even close.

I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, not for the first time wishing she’d just go away.

She doesn’t disappear, though. Instead, she presses forward. “He brought you home last night, didn’t he? He let you kiss him. And he kissed you back. Don’t over-dramatize.”

“There may have been more,” I tell her, scrunching my nose as I sit back up and meet her obvious curiosity.

“You held out on me,” she accuses.

I did hold out on her.

I told her I kissed him. I didn’t tell her there were a few moments my back was pinned to my apartment door, and his hands were welcome to do whatever they wanted. He didn’t take advantage, like every other guy I’ve known, so I was too embarrassed to fess up.

“I felt him,” I admit, closing my eyes and remembering his body as it blanketed mine. “I, um, may have even felt
it
.”

There was no denying Michael was excited. And it was obvious that, by my own embarrassing reaction, I was, too.

Shannan’s next question isn’t anything I thought it’d be. I thought for certain she’d ask about his size, scent, or how good he was with his tongue. She didn’t.

Instead, she questions, “Did you feel something when you were with him?”

“What do you mean?”

Looking at me with absolute seriousness, she says, “You haven’t been with a man in a long time. You haven’t so much as looked at one since I’ve known you. So, I’m wondering, why him?”

Why him?

She has a point. I just can’t figure how to make her understand.

“I felt…” Putting into words how I felt is impossible. “It felt natural.”

Shannan sucks in her lips and holds them. Then she leans down and kisses my cheek. “I’m happy for you.”

“What?” She must be crazy. “Did you hear me? I went
at him
, Shannan. He was reacting because I threw myself at him.”

“Did you, though?”

Looking again at my sad, still empty suitcase, I contemplate. Maybe I didn’t throw myself at him at all. Even if I had, it wasn’t as though he backed away.

I don’t know.

Shannan walks to my suitcase, throws in my bag of toiletries, and sighs. Without saying anything more, I start to gather whatever clothes I can imagine myself wearing to meet his mother.

His mother.
Oh god…

The only boyfriend’s mother I’ve ever met was Gabe’s, and our first meeting was to tell her she was about to be a grandmother. She hated me on sight. The thought of going through anything like that again makes my stomach ache.

Once we’ve finished packing in record time, I zip my bags and leave them just outside my bedroom door. I’m feeling a little nervous and a lot sick.

“Am I done?”

“You’re done.” She looks at the clock on my nightstand, then says, “With four minutes to spare, I might add.”

“Thank you,” I exhale.

Shannan walks to the pile of things I had set aside on my dresser before she came over. She picks up my big black purse and hands it to me. Once I take it, I immediately start stuffing it with everything I’ll need.

“Lucy?” she calls for my attention.

When I look up, I see her holding the letter from the lawyer Margret hired. I don’t let her wonder long. Instead, I confirm her worry. “She’s doing it.”

“Jesus, Lucy. I’m–”

“I told you. She really does think I’m an unfit mother.”

I received the letter weeks ago and still haven’t gone back to read it entirely. I didn’t want to lend much weight to it when denial is so much easier. But now, as she reads it out loud, I feel my eyes start to sting.

“‘This meeting is to determine what is in the best interest of Gabriel Dillon Monroe, age six. Please be at our office no later than–’”

“Stop!” I cry. “Please. I don’t want to hear any more.”

When eyebrows raise, I know I’m headed for a piece of unsolicited advice. “Have you talked to Corbin or Michael?”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “No, and I’m not going to.”

“Why not?” she asks quickly. “You’ll need a lawyer to help with this, Lucy Loo. You work at a law firm, hence the legal guidance they say for you to obtain.”

After standing and smoothing out my shirt and shorts, I walk toward her and grab the paper from her hand. “I’ve only been working there a month. How can I walk in and convince either one of them I’m still worthy of the job, but may lose my son?”

“You won’t lose him, Lucy. This is bullshit. It’s a scare tactic to force you into allowing her to spend more time with him.”

“She doesn’t ever
ask
to spend time with him,” I state what she already knows. “I wouldn’t keep him from her. She’s his grandmother. Just because I don’t have a relationship with her doesn’t mean Dillon can’t.”

“I hate her,” Shannan whispers, putting the letter down and turning toward me. “You know I have money.”

“Your
dad
has money,” I correct.

Ignoring my counter, she powers through. “Whatever you need, however much you need, I’m here.” Her eyes go soft and her head tilts. She scans me closely, starting at my feet and stopping at my hair before her appreciative gaze comes back to mine. “You’ve changed, Lucy. I don’t know if it’s the new job or what, but you’re happy. Even being as high-strung as you sometimes tend to be, I can tell you’re enjoying the new people in your life. You’ve needed that, and I’m happy you have it.”

I feel my eyes burn, finding it hard to stand in place under her intent look. “Thank you, but–”

“Take them for what they are. Use them to help with the evil queen.”

When the doorbell rings, she smiles wide, both our heads turning to my bedroom door.

“It’s time, friend. Do you have everything?”

“I think so,” I answer, but I’m completely unsure.

She shoos me with her hands in the direction of the living room. When I open the front door, I find a very large, bald black man dressed in a suit standing on the other side. He’s wearing dark sunglasses attached to a black cord wrapped around his neck, so I can’t see his expression clearly. Judging by the tightness of his lips, he’s either disgusted by my appearance or he’s holding back a smile.

“Oh shit,” I hear Shannan whisper from behind me.

His lips break and lift into a smirk on one side. He looks a little scary, too.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I say to Shannan and the man standing before us. “Shannan, unpack me. Get Dillon from Stella’s, tell him we’re going to Chuck E. Cheese instead.”

“Mr. Holden is waiting for you, Miss Monroe,” the large man finally breaks his silence, his voice resonating in my apartment. “So shall we?”

I turn to look at her one last time, appreciating the silent vote of confidence it lends me when I do. “Thank you, Shannan.”

“I love you, Lucy Loo,” I hear her say to my back as the man shuts the door behind us.

Damn it. I should’ve taken her up on the offer for shots.

Michael

“M
I
CHAEL!” MY MOM CRIES, STRETCHING
her arms up and pulling me down for a hug. She holds me longer than she normally would, a clear indication as to why I’m here.

“Mom,” I answer, stepping back and taking in her appearance.

As a general rule, my mother is usually well-put-together. Her clothes, hair, makeup, even her jewelry are always in place. She carries herself with unwavering grace, even if the situation doesn’t call for it.

Right now, in front of me, she only looks tired.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushes, her eyes filled with relief. “Grace is in her room watching a movie. I didn’t tell her you were coming because I didn’t want her hopes up in case, for whatever reason, you couldn’t make it.”

“She’ll be surprised then. Where’s Deni?”

My mom’s lips purse. Clearly, she’s still unhappy with my sister. “She’s lying down with Grace.”

When Marcus arrived at the airport with Lucy, he looked as exasperated having her with him as I felt while missing her. I didn’t talk to Lucy about the night before on the phone, at the airport, or in the taxi to the hotel. She didn’t mention it, either. It was as though we both knew it was a conversation we were having with ourselves, but one we weren’t ready to have with each other. We’ll talk eventually, but until we each have something to say, there’s no point.

Mom takes a look behind me, moving her head in Lucy’s direction before her eyes come back to mine.

“You brought someone with you,” she utters with a puzzled expression.

“I did,” I reply.

The last woman I brought into my mother’s house was Victoria, and being that my mother knew I wasn’t happy in my marriage, she wasn’t appreciative.

Turning around, I reach for Lucy’s hand. I bring her next to me, then drop her hand to push her forward. “Lucy, this is Kathrine Ingles. Mom, this is Lucy.”

After we checked into the hotel and Lucy had a chance to unpack, she seemed much less tense. I’m guessing she’s never seen adjoining hotel rooms because, at one point, she opened the connecting door. She must’ve thought it was a closet because when she busted into my room, her face blushed with embarrassment.

I held in a laugh at her expense, but it was tough.

“Oh, my word,” Mom replies, holding her hand against her chest. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

I warned Lucy of my mother, citing she loves having me home almost as much as she enjoys entertaining new guests to the point of frustration. For that reason, I didn’t tell my mom Lucy was coming with me.

“Hi, Mrs. Ingles,” Lucy greets, raising her hand between them. “I’m Michael’s assistant. I’m guessing he didn’t tell you I was coming with him?”

Mom studies Lucy for a second. Her eyes roam her face, and more tears well in her eyes. Her soft look quickly morphs into annoyance as she looks over Lucy’s shoulder and hisses in my direction, “He most certainly did not.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy apologizes, then turns around and deals me an equally nasty glare. “I can go and let–”

Mom’s eyes move from both of us to just Lucy. “You most certainly will
not.
We’ll clear out the guest room and you’ll stay here with all of us.”

“Mom,” I interrupt her plan in motion. “We’re staying downtown.”

“A hotel?” she replies with added insult. “But why?”

Lucy moves in for damage control, and I find myself wanting to kiss her for it. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Ingles. I insisted. I didn’t want to impose, and I’d feel more comfortable in a hotel.”

“I see,” my mother agrees, but I know she doesn’t. Eyeing me with suspicion, my mom scans my face. Her lips purse, and I can’t tell if she’s smiling or angry when she asks, “So you’re both staying in this hotel? Together?”

“Not together,” Lucy immediately corrects. “Michael’s going to work when he can. Other than that, he’ll be here.”

“What about you, dear? Where will you be?”

Lucy doesn’t have that answer, and I’d love nothing more than to call her out for being stumped by anyone other than myself. Leave it to Kat Ingles to have this effect on someone, though.

“Lucy will be busy, Mom. She’s got things planned.”

Unfortunately, Lucy doesn’t stay quiet for long. Turning to me, she looks up. “I do? What do I have planned?”

“If you’re not quiet?” I counter, watching her eyes narrow. “A lot.”

“Well! Okay, kids. That’s enough of that,” Mom chimes in. “I’ve got dinner cooking. No time to waste. Come in.”