King's Queen Read online

  Regret infused her gaze. “I already ate.”

  “Want to join me anyway?” Please say yes. Since I’d heard her voice on the other end of the line, I hadn’t wanted to be anywhere but at her side.

  “Where are you going?”

  “What about that Thai place we like?”

  The corner of her mouth tipped up. “The place where I can’t resist their spring rolls no matter how full I am?”

  And I was after the moan she made whenever she bit into one. “Yes.”

  “All right. I’ll let Mom know. I was picking up milk for her.”

  “As long as Randall gets his morning coffee.”

  Her gaze darted up to mine. “Yeah. You remember?”

  “Yes.” She shouldn’t have to ask. Her family was important to her and I had paid attention to the details, the parts of her life she shared and talked about. I hadn’t done enough with the knowledge, and I got that now. I pulled away from the tire place. “How are Sharon and Randall?”

  “Counting down the days to retirement.” And like I’d hoped, the floodgates opened and I relaxed into the cadence of her speech. “Randall retires in three years. He’s not going to miss it, but if he doesn’t find a hobby, he’s going to drive Mom crazy if they both have to sit on top of each other all day. But he won’t be able to take on more coaching. I think his days with the wrestling club are numbered. He just feels like he’s letting them down if he steps away. He loves coaching, but it takes a lot out of him. He says the boys these days have more energy since they’re not running wild through the neighborhood. He’s so tired when he gets home. Then there’s Mom. She talks about how she’s going to have her desk packed a month before retirement. But she’s going to be lost without hearing all the updates about her employees. She’s like a surrogate grandma.”

  She didn’t continue and I glanced over. The streetlights flickered over her face and she’d drawn her plump lower lip between her teeth. She wasn’t wearing makeup and the sweatpants she had on weren’t ones she wore often. She was cute in them. Whenever her coat moved high enough, I got a nice glimpse of her round ass.

  Usually when she stopped on a dime like this, I stayed quiet and she continued. Not tonight.

  “And then what?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just more rambling.”

  “I don’t mind.” Kate’s voice worked better than any over-the-counter medicine I could buy for the stress headaches that’d been popping up for years. I hadn’t gotten them until I’d started at King Oil. After I’d fucked up and taken on more work to keep mistakes from happening again, they’d gotten worse.

  “We’re here.”

  Damn. I parked and got out. She slid out and charged inside.

  Once we were settled at a booth, I set my phone on the table. The screen flashed on. Full of notifications. Dad had insisted I shut off all the bells, dings, and vibrating alerts. Then he’d checked all my devices to be sure I had complied.

  Nothing’s that urgent, Aiden. We’re in the oil business, not the ambulance business.

  I hated to admit that I didn’t miss a single one of those sounds. But I kept the visual notifications, and dread piled on my shoulders whenever I saw the screen. Emails. Messages in at least four apps. Missed calls.

  The server came over and dropped off menus and water. Neither Kate nor I looked at them.

  “How’s work?” I asked. Another notification lit my screen and I suppressed my groan. I had a survey from a special advisory and consulting company I was supposed to finish by tomorrow. Something about what the focus of the company’s future was from a CFO’s point of view.

  This CFO wanted a quiet meal with his wife.

  Kate’s gaze dropped to my phone and she waited a beat, like she was seeing if I was going to tend to business. When I didn’t, she said, “Work’s good.”

  Was she purposely not elaborating? She loved her job.

  She fiddled with the edge of the menu she wasn’t reading. The dark purple shirt she wore molded over her breasts and it took an obscene amount of effort to drag my gaze up. The ball on the top of her winter hat jiggled with each movement of her head. She hadn’t taken it off.

  “Aren’t you hot?”

  “Hmm?” She prodded her hat. “No. Well, yeah, but I showered earlier. Didn’t think I’d be seeing anyone for a quick milk run.”

  “You look fine, take it off.”

  “No, thanks. My hat head would be criminal.”

  “Kate, I’ve seen you worse.”

  She tilted her head, her eyes solemn. “Have you though?” Before I could ask what she meant, she slid out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.” She headed for the restrooms.

  What had she meant? I’d seen her in the morning. Most mornings. Some mornings. I woke earlier than her to work out and get to the office. On the weekends, she… I was at the home office a lot. But I’d seen her in boots covered in mud and cow manure and with dirt on her face. Though then she’d rushed through the bathroom first while I hung out with my brothers.

  I scowled and picked up my phone. I could knock out that survey quickly.

  I didn’t know how much time had gone by when Kate slid in across from me.

  “This’ll just be a minute,” I said.

  The server arrived. Kate ordered her spring rolls and I sensed their attention on me.

  “Do you mind?” I asked Kate.

  She ordered my pad thai. Another page on the survey popped up. Goddammit. Couldn’t I get one night to myself?

  I could’ve carved out tonight if I hadn’t taken a week off for my meltdown. Kate took out her phone and tapped at the screen. I wished she’d talk. I could multitask, but she’d said nothing to me since she’d returned.

  She’d taken her hat off and finger-combed her hair. The section that had been pressed down by the hat was still flattened, giving her a sexy, rumpled look. A fresh-out-of-bed look that I longed to see again. I kept the phone centered so she outlined everything else in my line of sight. Just sitting near her soothed the flurry in my mind. Kate was the calm in my storm. Without her, I was only pretending to keep my shit together.

  My food cooled, but this damn survey… They’d surveyed oil companies all over the northern US and Canada. If I was the only CFO who didn’t respond, it wouldn’t look good as to what King Oil took seriously as future concentrations. I could just see our name called out on the report sent out to investors. But the questions required more of an essay for an answer than a short response and Kate was almost done eating.

  I had to apologize. “I’m really—”

  “Oh, that’s my ride.” She laid a twenty on the table by her plate.

  The survey was forgotten and the apology froze on my tongue. “What ride?” Why was she paying?

  “You’re busy.” She slipped out and grabbed her winter coat.

  She was heading to the door before I’d gotten up and left my untouched meal behind.

  “Kate.”

  She was out the door.

  The twenty wasn’t enough to cover our meal and tip, but I’d make it right after I talked her into staying. “Kate. Don’t leave.”

  She paused with her hand on the door. “Aiden.” My name came out in tired exasperation. Like she was physically exhausted because of me. “You need to find a reason.”

  I lifted my shoulders and shook my head. A reason for what? But the defeat in her eyes left me tongue-tied. I’d messed up and didn’t know how.

  She opened the door and asked the driver to wait a minute, then turned to me. Wind ruffled her hair. My hands itched to bury themselves in her silky strands.

  She stuffed her hat on her head. “Between the trust and your work, I don’t know what to think about us. You asked for more time, but for what?” She lifted her chin toward the restaurant. “So I can watch you on your phone for the next fifty years? So you can work so hard you have a heart attack like your dad? Tonight, you said you had no reason not to be working.” She stepped closer and cupped my face, her hands
warm despite the cold weather. “You need to find your reason.”

  She released me and put distance between us. “Can you unlock the pickup so I can grab the groceries?”

  I didn’t respond but went to the pickup and retrieved them for her. She managed not to touch my fingers as I handed the bag to her.

  “Everyone depends on me. Everyone at the company depends on me.” I should’ve kept my mouth shut. She should be my priority and I’d just admitted that I worked so hard for everyone else.

  “Do you think what they need out of you is to never see you?”

  “It’s how I can best serve them.”

  “And what about yourself, Aiden? What do you want?”

  The answer came easy. “You.”

  Sadness darkened her eyes more than the night sky. “You have a funny way of showing it. Good night, Aiden.”

  And she was gone. I had to go in and leave more money for the food. Take my entree to go. I wasn’t hungry.

  For once, I had been honest with my feelings, and it had done no good. Too little too late.

  I’d asked her for more time and then wasted what she’d given me, just like I had the last four years.

  Chapter 11

  Kate

  * * *

  Light streamed through large picture windows. The ceiling was arched, lending an openness to the space that would’ve been smothered with regular-height ceilings. The apartment’s open floor plan did the same. A spacious island and ample counter space were inviting, and each of the two bedrooms was large and square.

  For a moment, I was alone in the living area. I closed my eyes. Traffic buzzed outside those massive windows. The muffled echoes of slammed doors resonated through the walls. Voices carried down the hall.

  No matter how beautiful, it was still an apartment. Way more sizable than the hole I’d lived in after I’d gotten my master’s and landed the job at the library. But an apartment all the same.

  The manager of the complex exited the farthest bedroom he’d sworn would make a plush office when he’d learned I didn’t have kids. Another office. Yay. He’d stepped away and taken a call. I’d let reality sink in and rob my good mood with it.

  “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. Kurt was a nice guy. He hadn’t given off any creepy vibes. And I’d been watching for them, since I was a single woman looking for a place to live where I wouldn’t be the only one with access to the front door.

  “No problem. It’s nice.”

  He strode through the room, his stockinged feet sinking into the high-quality carpet. “The third-floor units really are the best. We can utilize the area around us better without running into another unit.”

  I agreed. But there were still three other units around me. One next to me, one across the hall, and one playing heavy bass music under me.

  I missed my house.

  Kurt was oblivious to the noise. For an apartment, it was minor. The place I’d lived in when I’d met Aiden had been party central for anyone around drinking age. My neighbors had been nice guys, but they’d loved company and drinking until my alarm clock went off in the morning.

  Kurt dug into a folder he carried with a clipboard. “The application process is all online nowadays, but I’m old school.” He flashed a congenial smile. “I’ve printed off the application so you can read all the fine print.”

  And so I had a sheaf of paper floating around that’d keep me from forgetting this apartment was available for half my salary. Kurt was nice, but he was still a salesman of sorts.

  It was a fine place though. The building had an elevator and was close to the gym I was considering joining, though I couldn’t yet bring myself to do more than purchase daily passes.

  Foolish optimism, or abject denial. I couldn’t decide.

  He pulled out a three-page document that was stapled together. “We do ask for references.”

  I held in my groan. What was I going to do, have Aiden tell him that I was a decent roommate? That I paid for my half of the grocery bills? I stuffed the panic down. It hadn’t been that long since I’d lived in an apartment.

  “Another reason why I print out the application,” he continued. “It’s a lot of information we don’t have at our fingertips if we’ve lived in one place for a while.”

  Astute Kurt. I’d given him my maiden name when I’d called. No reason to do differently until I was actually signing legal documents. But my trepidation at looking at new places must’ve shone like a lighthouse beacon. Add in the lack of enthusiasm over the beautiful apartment and he’d figured my situation out. I accepted the papers from him.

  He folded his hands in front of him. “Any questions? Would you like to see another unit?”

  “No, I’ll think on this.”

  He rubbed his temples, one of the many nervous tics he had. “These do tend to move fast—when they’re open.”

  A kind, and anxious, fellow. Still a salesman. “I understand.”

  Beaming, he stuck his hand out. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. McDonough.”

  “Thank you, Kurt.” I’d told him to call me Kate. Mostly because hearing my maiden name only reminded me that I’d been too chicken to give him my real name.

  I parted ways with Kurt, relief melting off my shoulders the farther I got from the massive apartment building. Tossing the papers in the back seat, I slid behind the driver’s seat and heaved out a long breath.

  This was the first apartment I’d looked at since I’d left my house, and I’d hated the experience.

  Aiden had asked me for time, but we weren’t much different than his cattle: going through the chutes and coming out the other side in a pen that looked exactly the same. Except Aiden and I weren’t even going through the motions anymore. He hadn’t called me since I’d ditched him at the Thai place.

  My phone buzzed. No one called me except for Aiden, but when I glanced at the phone, it read Dad.

  “Hey, Katie-bear.” My nickname had survived the divorce. My brothers shunned most things related to our father, but Katie-bear had stuck. “I’m coming through tomorrow, late morning. You free?”

  Dad’s visits were normally bittersweet. I was happy he called me, then the guilt set in. A little resentment that he only hit me up when he was coming through town for his job. Today I expected a bigger hit of bitterness, but it didn’t come. Tomorrow he’d be saving me from a day of figuring out how to stay out of Mom and Randall’s way. They didn’t get much time together when they weren’t exhausted. They didn’t need a mopey daughter to deal with.

  “Sure. Tell me when and where.”

  “I’ll know better when I stop tonight. I’ll message you. Love you, Katie-bear.”

  I hung up, a smile playing over my lips. It faded seconds later. I could feel bad about how Dad only called when his route took him through town, how he was another man in my life with hurtful priorities. But this time it was about my brothers. Dad never called them. He’d send a Christmas card to Jason and Matt, include some money for the kids. The effort of facing their wrath and answering for his behavior kept him from two-way communication. I’d seen what that kind of behavior had done to my brothers. How they’d acted out as kids. The anger they still carried as adults.

  I’d seen the effects from the perspective of a child and an adult. I’d observed it and acknowledged it on an unconscious level, until now.

  Before the wedding, Aiden and I had discussed having kids. I’d wanted a family. I’d been bearing down on thirty, I’d been getting married, and I’d felt it was my time. He’d asked me to wait for a while. Work and all that. I’d waited. More unconscious acknowledgment. We weren’t going to have kids. We were never going to have kids.

  Work and all that.

  I didn’t want my kids to feel like my brothers did. If I stayed with Aiden, would he change his mind? If he didn’t, then what?

  The bustle of the café, and the constant stream of vehicles and semis outside the five-foot-tall picture windows, made it easier to tell my dad about the las
t month of my life.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that, kiddo.” Dad took a long pull from his black-as-tar coffee and pulled his teeth back like the cup was half filled with vodka. He’d quit drinking shortly after he and Mom had split, and no coffee was safe around him. If they figured out a way to give it via IV, he’d be first in line.

  “It is what it is.” The good thing about spilling my story to him was that he never got overly emotional. If he wasn’t going to ooze sympathy and give me a hug, then I wouldn’t cry while telling him.

  His smile was small, crinkling extra lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen them, along with the additional gray at his temples and the widening thin patch of sandy-blond hair on top of his head. “Just like your mom.” I shot him a questioning look and he elaborated. “You aren’t going to put up with anyone’s bullshit.”

  I wished that were true, but pride sang through me anyway. Was this why I couldn’t cut Dad out of my life entirely? His scraps of affection made me feel special. I hadn’t wanted to marry a guy like my dad. But I’d married one who made me feel the same way. A guy who put his life and everything in it first, but when he turned that focus on me? Addicting.

  Our food arrived and Dad dug into his omelet and hash browns. I used a fork on my jumbo double chocolate muffin. I’d backed off this type of breakfast, the kind that was actually a piece of cake in disguise, but since leaving Aiden, I had it at least once a week. Maybe two. Or three.

  I finished before Dad did and dug out my phone. “I recorded some of the kids’ wrestling matches. Want to see?”

  “I hate to rush off.” Dad pushed his plate away and dug a couple of twenties out of his wallet. “But I gotta be in Bismarck by tonight. Send them to me and tell the boys I’ll catch them next time?”

  I never told my brothers anything of the sort, and I wouldn’t wonder if he’d watch the videos. Wrestling was Randall’s thing and Dad probably harbored some bitterness of his own. “Sure. I might stay and finish my Diet Coke.”