Grumpy Romance: Chapter 21

KENYA

Sunny prances into my bedroom and creaks the door open. “Girl, you did not tell me your boss was hot-hot!” She fans her face. “His pictures do not do him justice. And he’s so intense. I thought he’d storm into the house and stomp around trying to find you.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t,” I mumble, my voice shaking.

Sunny has no idea how hot Alistair’s temper can get. All he cares about is results, and the journey to getting them? Well, he’ll treat you like a workhorse if it gets the job done.

“It was kind of sad though,” she admits. “He must have run up the stairs because he was dripping in sweat.”

My eyelashes flutter. “He was?”

She nods.

It’s hard for me to imagine it. But then… there’s more to Holland Alistair than his legendary jerk-ish ways.

He’s the kind of man who’ll pay off the medical bills for his driver’s sick wife.

He’s the kind of man who honors someone’s efforts whether they come from a good school, have a fancy degree or not.

He’s the kind of man who’ll work himself into the ground to provide a legacy for his daughter.

He doesn’t show that side to everyone, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen his grumpy expression soften into tenderness. I’ve felt his harsh mouth brushing softly against mine, making my heart flutter and seize. I’ve heard his voice get low and rough when he talks about his wife and his regrets about that night.

“You’re upset,” Sunny mumbles. Falling into the bed, she rolls on her stomach and props her pointed chin in her palm. “Should I have told him you were still here in the city? Should I not have told him you were making mad, passionate love with a half-naked scuba diver in the Caribbean?”

I roll to a sitting position. “You what?”

Earlier, I heard Alistair’s voice and I almost started crying. With every word he spoke, my heart stirred, and I wanted to reveal myself. I knew I had to get away, so I locked my door and put on loud music to drown him out.

I had no idea Sunny would go off the deep end in her attempt to drive him off my scent.

Sunny slants me a giant grin. “All I did was insinuate that you were dating again. I didn’t say anything about a scuba-diver, but I should have! It would have served him right.”

I shake my head.

She leans back. “I have to admit, he surprised me. Given the way the articles talk about him being all about business, I thought he’d be a little more… deadpan. But when I mentioned that you might be with someone else, I thought he’d bust a spleen.” She covers her mouth to muffle the laughter. I have no idea how she can find any of this funny. “He looked like he was about to fly to wherever you were and send that guy into a coma.”

“That non-existent guy.”

“Hey, if you don’t like it, I can call him up and correct the story. He won’t mind.”

“No.” I pounce on her hand. If I go back to Alistair, nothing will change. He’ll still tackle problems on his own. He’ll still treat me like I’m his employee, someone he orders around, instead of someone in the war with him.

Her eyebrows draw together. “Oh, he also brought the weirdest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen.”

“Flowers?”

“He said it was from his daughter.” She huffs. “He’s using the kid to get to you. That’s some next level manipulation right there.”

“Alistair would never use Belle to get what he wants.” I think about the first huge blow-out we had after the Baby Box pitch.

Sunny looks taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“Where are the flowers?”

“Wait here. I’ll get them.” She tumbles out of bed and returns a second later with a cluster of dry flowers that looked like they were plucked by a mischievous four-year-old let loose in the park.

I stare at the flowers and tears prick my eyes.

Sunny studies me worriedly. “Geez, am I missing something? He’s a billionaire, but this thing looks like he picked it up off the street.”

“It was Belle,” I whisper hoarsely. Alistair can afford to buy me a flower shop, but it wouldn’t be worth as much as these flowers right here.

A harsh longing scrapes the center of my heart. I’m unable to breathe, unable to take one more second of the pain.

“Was he… did he seem okay?” I croak.

Sunny’s eyes bug. “What?”

“You said he was sweating.” It’s hard to imagine Alistair looking that sad. He’s usually GQ model ready in Italian suits and perfect hair.

Unless he’s with Belle. At those moments, he trades three-piece suits for a Henley and jeans. His hair falls however it wants to. His hazel eyes sparkle with contentment. My brain conjures the image like it was orbiting around, jumping at the bit for a chance to spring free.

“He looked,” Sunny taps a long, delicate finger on the blanket, “tortured. Like someone beat his heart to within an inch of his life. Miserable.” She scrubs her chin. “As miserable as you are.”

I rake a hand over my mouth and let out a shuddering breath. Alistair looking tortured? Miserable? It’s hard to imagine.

He doesn’t need anyone. At least, he’d never admit it. Never let anyone know. It felt to me that all he needed was a toy soldier. Someone he could move up and down without a fight.

I swallow hard.

It doesn’t matter if I’m wrong about that. Doesn’t matter if he’s suffering.

We’re done. Over.

But Belle…

I stare at the bright flowers. Suddenly, I scoop them up and head out of the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Sunny asks, scrambling behind me.

I glance back and forth until I find a vase. Carting it to the sink, I fill it with water.

“Kenya, you’re scaring me.” She frowns. “I know Lord Hotness keeps showing up on our doorstep, begging you to talk to him, but you can’t make it that easy.”

I storm past her with the vase that’s heavier because it’s filled with water.

She steps back. “You can’t let him get to you.”

“Belle sent this.”

She narrows her eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am.” I tenderly take the flowers and place them, one by one, in the vase.

“Fine. Say it is his daughter’s. Given the tender look in your eyes, he probably sent them on purpose. He knows you have a weakness for his little girl.”

I arrange the flowers with care.

“Kenya, are you listening to me?”

“Not really.”

She grabs my wrist and lowers her voice. “You said you didn’t want to play damsel in distress while some rich jerk decided your life for you. You’re the one who said he was a major alpha prick who hadn’t learned to control his caveman instincts. You said that. Not me.”

Yeah.

But turning my back on Alistair doesn’t mean I have to turn my back on Belle.

“Thanks for meeting with me.” I slide my fingers around the mug. It releases a plume of smoke in the air. The scent of strong coffee gives me courage.

Darrel sits straight and tall in the chair across from me. His shoulders strain against a thin white T-shirt. Thick fingers stay flat on the table.

“Honestly, I’m surprised that you reached out.”

“I wanted to call Ezekiel, but his loyalty belongs to Alistair. He wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret.”

“What exactly is the secret? That you’re meeting with me or that you’re back in the city?”

“Both.” My gaze darts away. “I haven’t actually left the city.”

His green eyes widen to the size of emerald pools.

I offer a strained smile. “Surprise.”

“Alistair was so sure you were gone. He almost stormed the Baby Box offices, looking to pick a fight with Walsh. Bernard had to drive him to my practice so I could calm him down or he’d be spending the next few months in jail.”

Stricken, I tighten my fingers on the cup.

Darrel lets the quiet linger and I realize that, with him, there’s no awkwardness in the silence. It’s different with Alistair. His silences are thick. Pulsing. Full of crackling, raw energy. Even his quiet moments are loud.

Darrel is a different kind of powerful. The kind that sneaks up on you when you feel that you’re most invincible. It isn’t loud or aggressive, but it’s just as potent.

“What are you doing now?” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m guessing you’re not at Baby Box. If you were, someone from Belle’s Beauty would have seen you and reported it to Alistair.”

“No, I decided not to take that deal.”

“Not enough money?”

“It wasn’t the money. Or the position. Or even Walsh.” I blink rapidly. “It was me. Thanks to the hefty paychecks I got from working with Alistair, I finally had a chance to stop running around frantically trying to pay the bills and really think about what I want to do with my life.”

“And what did you discover?” His words are patient. His eyes are fully focused on me. He’s probing and yet I feel completely at ease.

“My first love is Literature. Even when I was writing those reports for Alistair, it leaked out. He scolded me for it once.” My lips curl up unconsciously. “He called my report ‘flowery’. I was so offended at first, but I realized it was a kind of compliment.” I drum my fingers on the table. “I didn’t have the right references before, but with the power of Belle’s Beauty on my application, I got called back for interviews at some of the biggest publishing houses in the city. I received an acceptance letter yesterday. I start next week. As an assistant editor.”

“Good for you, Miss Jones. I’m glad you get to realize your dreams.”

“Yeah.” My fingers slide over the rim of the cup.

He continues studying me. “Miss Jones.”

“Mm?”

“Why did you call me out to speak today?”

“It’s about Belle.” I glance down. “Is she okay?”

“You should ask Alistair more than me.”

“I know, but…”

His hard expression softens a smidge. Folding his hands together, he leans forward. “Belle asks about you often. It’s getting to the point that Alistair is running out of excuses she’ll buy.”

My heart lurches and I feel like I’m free-falling. “Really?”

He nods. “They both miss you very much.”

“You said both.”

“I meant it.”

My phone buzzes.

Glumly, I lift it and scroll to the new text.

Holland: Belle is refusing to eat until she talks to you. I know you have every right to ignore me, but please, Kenya, can you spare some time to talk to her?

I blink in shock.

Darrel hikes both eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Alistair is…”

“He’s what?”

“He’s begging me.” I turn the phone and show the message to him. “He said please.”

Darrel’s jaw clenches. I can see the fight in him. The split between being an uncle and being an objective party.

“It’s your choice, but if I can speak for Belle, I think she’d appreciate a simple video call.”

“I’ll call.” How can I not when Alistair is pleading with me for the first time in his life?

“He’s changing, you know,” Darrel says quietly. “You forced him to confront the parts of himself that need fixing. Maturing. He’s come to a few realizations because of it.”

“This isn’t about getting back with Alistair. I just want to make sure Belle is okay.”

“Alright. I respect that. I won’t get involved in your relationship, but I thought you should know.” He nods to the phone. “That he’s willing to beg for the people he loves. And you’re counted in that number.”

I crush my napkin into a ball. “Thank you for seeing me today, Darrel.”

“Of course.” He rises to his full height and grabs the bill. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Wait.”

He turns and glances expectantly at me.

“Can you… not tell anyone about this? About us meeting?”

“No one will find out your whereabouts from me.” His smile is grim. “Trust me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

I nod because I believe him. His shoulders are that broad. His face is apathetic. He looks like nothing gets to him, and it makes me wonder what would shake that stony personality.

When Darrel’s gone, I respond to Alistair.

Kenya: I’m free today. When you get home, let me know and I’ll call her.

His response is instant.

Holland: I’m home now.

My eyes almost pop out of my face. He is? Since when does Holland Alistair take Saturdays off? He doesn’t understand the concept of a weekend. He’s always at work making people’s lives miserable.

My phone lights up with an incoming video call.

In a panic, I scramble around to find a part of the cafe that won’t give my location away. I’m moving so jaggedly that my thumb swipes against the screen and I accept the call.

Mortified, I lurch to my feet and walk backward, searching for the nearest blank wall. My smile is nervous and my voice shakes when I say, “Hey, Belle.”

“Miss Kenya!” Her pretty face fills the screen. A slight flush coats her cheeks and I wonder if she’d been crying.

“I’m so happy to see you.” I settle into a chair by the wall and hope it’s not too noisy in the room. The cafe is relatively empty, but the whirr of coffee machines makes it sound like a factory.

“Did you get my flowers?”

“Mmhm.” A genuine smile spreads on my face. “They were so pretty.”

“Daddy says you’re far away.”

“Uh…”

“But it’s not like mommy. Mommy’s in heaven. I can’t see her, but I can see you.”

My heart turns over like a long-jumper knocking down all the hurdles. Can this child be any more precious?

“Yes.” I bob my head. “Yes, you can see me whenever you like.”

“Yay!” Belle does a cute dance.

The phone shifts and rattles.

Alistair’s deep voice rings out, “Be careful, Belle. Mind you fall off the bed.”

I stiffen.

“Daddy,” Belle yells cheerfully, “come and see Miss Kenya.” Her little fingers reach for the phone and the scene gets chaotic again. A moment later, Alistair’s handsome face appears on screen.

I didn’t think I had enough of a heart left to shatter, but I find that what’s left of it explodes out of me. At the sight of him, my hands shake. If I don’t get myself together, I’ll have to call Darrel to schedule a session.

“Hi, Kenya.” He says my name lightly. Reverently. Like it’s too special to be pronounced above a certain decibel.

It just about undoes me. “Alistair.”

I try not to let my longing show. If we were together, if we didn’t end the way we did, he would growl at me to say his name. And I would pretend to ignore the request until he least expected it.

But we aren’t together.

And I’m determined not to fall for that strong, hypnotizing hazel gaze.

Belle turns the phone away from her dad. “Miss Kenya, when are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” I say as cheerfully as I can. “But don’t worry. You can call me whenever you miss me.”

“Really?”

“I’ll always answer.”

“You promise?”

An ache claws at my stomach. “Promise.”

Belle just about vibrates with excitement. Her smile blossoms and her chubby cheeks press against her eyes.

“Alright, Belle. Miss Jones has things to do. Say bye.”

“Bye.” Belle gives me a gleeful wave.

I return it. “Bye, Belle.”

“I’ll call you again, Miss Kenya! We can have tea!”

“That sounds lovely,” I croak.

Alistair turns the phone on himself. With darkening eyes, he mouths, “Thank you.”

I nod and sign off.

My head is heavy, and I feel like my entire world is spinning out of control. I was doing so well staying away from them. From him. But now that I’ve gotten a little taste, I’m like an alcoholic falling off the bandwagon.

I know this high is just a fantasy. And maybe it’s all going to crash and burn. But if I can keep Belle and Alistair in my life, in this tiny way, maybe it won’t hurt so much when I finally have the strength to leave them behind.

That phone call is one in a line of many.

Turns out, if you tell a four-year-old you’ll answer every call, she’ll call… a lot. And since I made a promise, I always try to answer.

Sometimes, I’m caught up at work and I can’t get to her.

Being a professional editor at a publishing house is not the romantic experience I imagined. I thought I’d be curled up with a best-seller-in-the-making, sipping hot coffee and marking words with red ink.

Turns out, I’m married to the printer again. And there are no manuscripts except the ones that are tossed into the slosh pile.

In a publishing house, the deadlines are fast-paced, the pressure to create a best-selling package is fierce, and it’s almost like my stressful job at Belle’s Beauty.

Except my boss isn’t a crazy gorgeous man with eyes that spear you in the gut. She’s an older woman with very high expectations and a passive aggressive personality that makes life difficult.

Because of my managing editor’s snide remarks, I’ve come to appreciate Alistair’s gruff and upfront personality. He doesn’t mind hurting your feelings to your face, which sucks. But it’s better than being insulted behind your back and undermined in quiet ways. I can’t believe I miss Alistair’s leadership style, but it’s the truth.

Right now, everyone is even more anxious because of the upcoming merger. Ownership is changing hands, and no one at the publishing house is sure if they’ll still have a job when the dust settles.

My managing editor is taking it out on me and, because of her, I finally understand the difference between a boss who’s hard on you to get the best results and a boss who’s hard on you because she has raging insecurities and a vindictive spirit.

Since it’s been crazy at work for the past few days, I’ve started to call Belle during her bedtime.

Sometimes, she’s asleep and it’s Alistair who answers me. Although I know I should probably hang up the phone, I ask him about Belle, he asks me about my day, and it usually turns into a conversation that lasts all night.

It’s been happening more and more often lately.

I’ll call to ask about Belle.

He’ll answer.

And then the conversation will spiral from there.

I know I’m playing with fire. And it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Alistair is leaning on my love for his daughter to keep my heart hooked on him.

But I can’t deny that it feels good to bounce my thoughts off him. Especially when I’m stressed out and have my back against the wall at work.

It’s not that I don’t have other support. Sunny jumps on my side because she’s the most amazing best friend a girl can ask for. But agreeing with me all the time isn’t helpful.

Alistair doesn’t suffer from that issue. He’s brusque and rough. Every problem I hand over to him is met with a cold but tactical solution.

Sometimes I want to apply his advice. Sometimes I don’t.

But I’ve come to find out that his insights are invaluable and always offer a different perspective.

He’s an asset in my life.

And he still makes my heart race.

Thankfully, there’s a built-in boundary between us. The fact that he thinks I’m overseas is a wall that he can’t climb.

I’m safe.

For now.

A few days later, I arrive home and notice Sasha’s vehicle in the parking lot.

My entire body floods with anxiety. Her wedding is right around the corner. What is she doing here?

I keep my head down and try to shuffle past her without notice, but I fail terribly. Sasha’s car door flies open, and she leaps to the sidewalk.

Moonlight spills over her wavy brown hair and brown eyes glistening with tears. She grips the top of her door, her manicured fingernails exquisite against the green paint of the car.

“Kenya, can we talk, please? Just hear me out this once.”

My feet slow to a stop on the sidewalk.

She’s still your sister, I tell myself.

Hesitantly, I turn and face her again. She stays by the car, a tear dripping down her cheek and her eyes searching mine in desperation.

After breaking up with Alistair, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk to Sasha, so I blocked her number, ignored all the messages from Felice and basically stuck my head in the sand.

But no one can outrun the lessons they’re meant to learn.

I stalk over to her car.

She slams the door shut and steps toward me. “Let’s go upstairs—”

“No way. Sunny will kill you if she sees you.” I gesture to her car. “We do this in there.”

She looks like she wants to argue.

“Take it or leave it, Sasha.” I tap my fingers on the windshield. “What do you want to do?”

She unlocks the door, slides in and pops the passenger door open for me.

I get into the car and stare straight ahead. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, wiping at her eyes. “Nothing.”

My scoff is less than gentle. It’s not hard to understand why I’m short on patience. In a few days, my backstabbing sister will marry my backstabbing ex. I can’t seem to find my compassion.

“I’m not an idiot, Sasha, so don’t treat me like one. What’s wrong?”

She rakes her fingers through her hair. “Nothing.”

“Really?” I hiss. “I guess random crying is totally normal. Since you’re fine, I don’t need to be here.”

“Wait. I… it’s not random…”

“I know. There must be a reason for—”

“… It’s hormones.”

Her words sink in.

I whip my head around. “Hormones?”

She nods. Swallows. “I’m pregnant. Drake and I.”

The pieces click into place.

Felice was so frightened about Sasha’s health. It wasn’t just about the cancer returning. It was about the baby.

And no wonder Drake married her right away. He’s always felt a strong sense of responsibility to family. He wanted to be nothing like his dad who walked away from his mother.

It also explains why the wedding is happening so quickly.

I press into my chair, my mind whirling with thoughts.

“I know what I did was messed up, but I cared about Drake. And he loves me. We’re going to have a family. Why can’t you be a part of it?”

This can’t be happening. My sister isn’t here berating me. Again.

She betrayed me. Stomped on me.

And it doesn’t matter.

I’m expected to suck it up and be her lady-in-waiting like I’ve always been. Like I did gladly.

“Sasha, you better stop now.”

Her eyes glint with determination. “I heard you were messing around with that billionaire boss of yours. You’ve obviously moved on.”

My patience drops into an abyss of frustration.

She leans forward. “See? You were with him even though you knew the stakes of being found out. You loved him so much you couldn’t stay away. Don’t you understand me now?”

“I’m not dating my boss,” I spit.

“But you were.”

“It’s over.”

“So you played the game and you couldn’t handle it. You got screwed over. See? You can’t control your heart, Kenya. None of us can. Love has a way of making even the craziest things feel right. You see where I’m coming from now?”

“It’s not the same thing,” I spit. “Don’t you dare try to compare what you did with Drake to me dating my boss.”

“Are you still angry, Kenya?” Her lips purse on my name. “Do we really have to drag it out for this long?”

I stare straight ahead. The night is still. Nothing moves except for the trees bending with the wind.

“Family isn’t about flesh and blood.” I hear Alistair in my head.

“You know,” I whisper, “I’ve always regarded you as my sister, even though we weren’t related by blood. I was willing to give up everything to be there for you because that is what family does. But if I’m the only one giving up everything and you’re the only one taking, that’s not family.” My eyes swerve to hers. “That’s ownership. You keep expecting me to cave to you because that’s the way it’s always been. And you can’t accept that you’re not getting your way again.”

She slings an arm over her stomach. “Kenya, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a family. You’d seriously turn your back on me and my child?”

My heart pounds. I resist the guilt that wants to creep into my resolve and take a bite out of it. I’ve always given into Sasha. Always. It’s one of the reasons she thought sleeping with my boyfriend wouldn’t affect us.

I lift my chin. “I love you, Sasha. You are my sister and we will always have our memories together. We’ll always have our history. But I will no longer allow you to use me and mistreat me. I will no longer allow you to walk all over me and tell me I should accept it because of love. This isn’t what love is. And this isn’t what family is.”

“Kenya, please.” She reaches out and grabs my hand.

I shake her off. “I will not be anywhere near your wedding, so don’t look for me and don’t expect me to change my mind.”

Big tears roll down her face. One after the other.

I stay motionless in the passenger seat. “Now, I’m going to call a taxi for you and you’re going to let them take you home because you’re not driving in this state. That’ll be my last act as your sister.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice flays through the air with venom. “Why are you being such a b—”

I smile and cut her off by grabbing my phone to call a taxi.

She trembles like a hurricane, her chest rising and falling.

I shove my door open. “The driver will be here in ten minutes. I recommend you take care of yourself. For you and the baby.” My eyes drop to her stomach. “Have a nice life, Sasha.”

When I step out of the car, I hear the horn honking in short bursts. Sasha is slamming her hands against the steering wheel and crying. Through the tinted windshield, I see her wedding ring glint.

Heart heavy, I drag myself up the stairs even though a part of me still wants to run down to my sister and make all her problems go away.

Sunny scrambles to her feet when I walk into her apartment. “I saw Sasha. Say the word and I’ll go down there with my bat.”

“She’s pregnant,” I say wearily.

“What?” Her jaw drops.

I lift a hand. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Sunny watches me worriedly as I plod to the bathroom and sink against the wall. Tears well in my eyes and fall down my cheeks.

I’m a horrible person.

I’m awful.

She’s pregnant. She needs me. I should be there for her no matter what.

Doubts creep out of the shadows and attack me like little bugs. They crawl all over my skin and dig into my hurts until they’re burning.

At that moment, my phone rings.

It’s Belle.

I quickly dry my cheeks and beam at her. “Belle, hi baby!”

“Hi, Miss Kenya.”

“What’s up?” My voice is stuffy.

Thankfully, I don’t have to say too much. She starts chatting about her day and takes over the conversation.

I manage to smile and nod at the appropriate points. She seems satisfied.

After a while, Alistair gently pries the phone from his daughter and tells her to go and help Mrs. Hansley with dinner.

“Okay.” She pops up cheerfully, her two ponytails swinging. “Bye, Miss Kenya.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

I expect Alistair to end the call, but he studies me with a sober frown. “Were you crying?”

“No.”

“Kenya.” The way he says my name, all tender and sweet like that, almost starts the waterworks again.

I rub my forehead, unable to hide my emotions. “Sasha told me she’s pregnant.” One tear pops out of my eye. “She asked me to be a part of the baby’s life and I told her…” A sob cuts my words short. “I told her no.”

“Kenya.” His voice is a rumble. “Damn, I wish I could hold you.”

Call me an idiot, but I wish he could too.

“Tell me I made the right choice. Tell me I’m not an awful human being.”

“You’re not an awful human being, Kenya, but you are human.” He sighs. “How you feel right now tells me if you’ve moved on. And if you’re still hurt by her, then you’re not fully healed. You have the right to demand distance until those wounds are healed. No one should have the authority to force your healing.”

I sniff, lifting my head. “You’re saying no one should be forced? You?”

He laughs. “I’m learning.”

I smile.

“When you’re finally healed, you’ll move on. You might even let her back into your life again and forgive what she did.”

“I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

“Well,” his lips inch up slowly, “if you have somebody else that you love, someone who loves you even more in return, it might be easier to deal with the hurt. My suggestion is to let go and focus your love and attention on that person.”

I laugh. Who said this man wasn’t good at sales?

“Alistair, are you trying to pitch yourself to me?”

His smile flashes across his face and almost takes my breath away. “Kenya, it just so happens that I have a trip out of the country soon. I’ll be in your area next week.” He leans closer to the camera. “If you’re willing, I want to see you.”