Chapter 42

“I thoughtI’d find you here.”

Kayla glanced over her shoulder to find her longtime friend and her firm’s attorney Natalie Bryant.

“How?” Kayla said, sipping her wine.

“It’s rare for you to leave work early, so I figured recent events were weighing on your mind. You’ve said more than once that Blue Cellar’s relaxed vibe helped you think.”

Natalie didn’t know the half of what was replaying in her mind like a stream of bad horror movies. Kayla hadn’t come here to think. She was here to forget. Forget about Linda’s parting words, forget about Ash’s hungry lips, and forget about Vicky’s vacant eyes.

“I didn’t realize I’d become so predictable.”

“Only to me, my friend.” Natalie slid onto the stool next to her and ordered a beer.

“It’s been a rough few days.” Her index finger made swirls in an overlooked water ring left on the bar’s wooden surface.

Natalie grasped Kayla’s hand, halting her repetitive motion. “I’m sorry, Kay. Sometimes I forget you’re as destructible as the rest of us. I should have checked in more often to see how you were doing.”

Kayla squeezed her friend’s hand, taking comfort from the gesture before releasing her and continuing the swirls. Any more than that, and she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.

“You’ve done more than enough. Between you and the rest of the team, I have a refrigerator full of food and enough hearts and hugs emojis to carry me through each day.”

Rather than be reassured, Natalie’s expression became even more concerned. “Let me see your left hand.”

Shit.

“Come on. Palm up.”

When Kayla remained frozen, Natalie reached across her lap and gently unrolled her fingers from their tight ball to reveal four deep crescent marks in her palm.

Kayla’s lie detector.

“Oh, Kay.” Natalie smoothed a finger over the pain points. “You know you don’t have to be the strong one around me. Talk, please.”

Her confrontation with Linda had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Mason had taken her to the office, but she’d managed little more than staring out her window, torturing her brain. She relived every detail of her encounter with Vicky, her devastating discussion with Jillian and the aunties, her confrontation with Tommy, her shoot-out with Seb’s killer, her night with Ash, and her guilt over misunderstanding Linda’s feelings toward her mother.

Could Linda’s anger have been nothing more than the jealousy of an only child losing her mother’s attention?

The vehemence in Linda’s voice when she’d spoken about the State owning Vicky had rattled loose another conversation she’d had with the expectant mother.

Seven months ago, when Linda shared her baby news with Kayla, Jillian, and the aunties, Vicky had been thrilled. Through glistening eyes she’d talked about all the ways she was going to spoil the babe. The Linda before things went wonky would have sent her mother an indulgent smile and an admonishment about spoiling her child. The new, but not improved, Linda had snorted.

Prompting Sybil and Elsie to trade glances before Elsie deftly changed the topic. When Kayla had asked Linda about her reaction later, she’d confided, “The State won’t retract its claws long enough for Mom to see her grandchild, let alone spoil it. She’s going to miss all my baby’s firsts.”

Now, a ripple of awareness tracked down Kayla’s spine. She’d felt it before. Most women had. That moment when you realized you were being watched.

Picking up her wineglass, she casually scanned the room while she took a drink. Her perusal came to a halt on a man sitting kitty-corner from her at the bar. He lifted his chin in that way men do to acknowledge someone in greeting. Only the black-haired Adonis accompanied his with a sexy-as-hell smile.

Kayla returned it. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t? But she immediately experienced an odd sense of guilt. She didn’t understand her reaction until she recalled her night with Ash and her astonishing self-revelation that she was falling for a man who would never be able to accept all of her.

One more heartache to add to the pile.

“Take my mind off the shitstorm that’s my life,” Kayla said. “Tell me about this new guy who likes to muss your hair before work.”

Heat crept into her friend’s cheeks. A biological reaction Kayla hadn’t witnessed since Natalie’s first brush with sex their freshman year of college.

The rim of Natalie’s longneck hovered near her red-painted lips. “We can find something more titillating to talk about than my love life.”

“Nothing comes to mind.” Kayla angled her body toward her friend. “Name?”

“Alexander.”

The name conjured a bone-deep revulsion that Kayla had never been able to overcome. Ever since her run-in with Alexander Brighton her junior year at university, she’d hated the name.

“Good Lord, Natalie. Out of the four billion men in the world you had to shake the sheets with one named Alexander?”

“I knew this would be your reaction, which is why I’ve kept the relationship to myself.”

“Aren’t you reminded of what that asshole did to us every time you moan his name?”

“Did to you,” Natalie corrected. “It was your car.”

“You were as outraged as I was at the time.”

“What he did was shitty, and he eventually paid the price.”

When Senator Brighton had lost the election, the family’s financial resources slowly dried up and Alexander dropped out of college. She knew she should feel some guilt about his interrupted education, but she couldn’t muster the emotion.

“He wasn’t the only student,” Natalie said, “who’d lost their mind after that competition.”

“Are you condoning what he did to my car?”

“I already said what he did wasn’t cool. But the professors in our poli-sci program seemed to take an inordinate amount of glee in pitting student against student during the fundraising project.”

Kayla frowned, then swiveled on her stool until she faced Natalie. “Your Romeo. What’s his last name?”

The attorney froze like a rabbit hoping the eagle wouldn’t spot her munching away in the center of the field. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been seeing this guy nonstop for the past month. It’s time I met my friend’s new beau.”

“And have you react the way you did just now when I introduce him? I don’t think so.”

“I’m a professional at controlling my emotions. I won’t dry heave at the mere mention of the name Alex—.” The name stuck in her throat.

Natalie lifted a brow.

“Okay, maybe you could just mumble his name or sneeze at the opportune time.”

“It won’t matter.” Natalie closed out her tab.

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Her friend stood. “Come on, Nat. Stay for another drink. I’ll behave.”

“It won’t matter because this is who you’ll meet.” She held her phone in front of Kayla’s face.

Staring back at her was an older version of the shithead who’d painted BITCH on her car fourteen years ago. Alexander Brighton.