Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2) (37 page)

Cenia
and Marie joined us with a pitcher of margaritas and four glasses rimmed in
salt. Marie poured the margaritas. Cenia lifted her glass toward Gabi and Marie
as she plopped into the chair across from me. “Just so you know, I have two air
mattresses if you girls feel like spending the night.”

Marie
and Gabi exchanged glances. “Should we order take out?” Gabi asked. Her eyes
sparked with excitement.

“There’s
a good Mexican restaurant just down the street. I’ll track down the menu
after
I finish my drink.” Cenia kicked her feet up on the table and winked at me over
the top of her margarita glass.

It
was my first slumber party in over a decade. The girls kept me up for hours as
they caught me up on all of the drama that I had missed while I was in Paris. I
was excited to hear that Troy’s girlfriend, Sara, had finished school at Texas
A&M and had finally moved to town. We needed another girl to help balance
out the group. Not a single question was asked about Paris, Michael, or Kadyn.

I
didn’t bother taking a sleeping pill when I finally crawled into bed. The
margaritas had proven equally effective at inducing sleep.

*
* * * * *

Cenia
kept me busy that weekend. We shopped for groceries and poured over Internet
listings for potential apartments, condos, and townhomes in Arlington and
Alexandria, although I still wasn’t sure how I was going to come up with the
money. I barely had enough money remaining from my Senate fellowship to repay
Kadyn. A number of bills had been automatically withdrawn from my checking
account in my absence, but I felt terrible that Kadyn had paid my rent and the
remaining bills. I was determined to repay him, and I knew he’d be hesitant to
accept the money in person, so I mailed him a check first thing Saturday
morning.

My
student loans were barely covering tuition and books. I needed to come up with
a deposit and first month’s rent on an apartment, and I wanted to give Cenia
some money for letting me stay with her. I still didn’t have a job, so I found
myself in the uncomfortable position of having to use Michael’s money.

Once
I came to terms with the fact that I would have to draw on that money, I
decided it would be smarter to buy than rent. The housing market was strong in
DC; and if I bought a place, I could always resell it and give the money back
to Michael, or he could simply add it to his long list of properties. Cenia put
me in touch with her real estate agent, who put together a list of properties
to show me the following weekend.

Then
school hit. Nothing could have prepared me for the amount of research, reading,
and writing that was required for graduate school. Each class required four to
six books on average. I could have bought a small country with the amount of
money I forked over for books alone.

I
liked my professors, instantly. I was surprised to learn that so many of them
were retired military. Some had served as mediators to world leaders, and
nearly every one of them had worked on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict at some
point in time. They were a fascinating group of scholars. I quickly lost myself
in my studies and the possibilities surrounding my degree.

It
wasn’t easy carving out time for house hunting the next weekend, but I managed
to look at eight properties. I quickly dismissed the midrise condos in
Arlington. I didn’t like being packed in with so many people, and the smells
that permeated the hallways were nauseating. Some of the townhomes I looked at
were too old. I worried about the repairs that would be required. The one
townhouse that I liked had an offer from another buyer before we even left the
property, but my real estate agent was not easily defeated. I bumped up the amount
of money I was willing to spend, and she promised to have more listings for me
the following weekend.

By
the second week of school, students were expected to fully participate in classroom
discussions. Our professors ran us through a number of simulations where we had
to resolve personal conflicts, work-related conflicts, and ethnic conflicts. We
had yet to explore strategies for resolving conflict, so it was obvious the point
of these exercises was to assess our current strengths and our personal tendencies
toward conflict. After the simulations, we were placed in one of four
categories: avoiding, accommodating, collaborative, and competitive. I was
labeled accommodating, and I felt my label fit.

It
was interesting to see how the other students were categorized. There were less
than fifty students in my program. The majority of my classmates either served
in the military or they worked as civilians for the Department of Defense or the
Department of Homeland Security. Most of these students were labeled
competitive. Twelve students in our program were from other countries. Most of
these students were labeled collaborative. There were only two students who
tended to avoid conflict and only one other student besides me who was labeled accommodating.
Her name was Shae.

Shae
was quiet, like me. We both preferred to study the other students in class and
tended to offer our opinions only when prompted by our professors. She had soft
brown eyes and a warm skin tone. She typically pulled her long brown hair back
with a clip. When I first saw Shae, I thought she might be Hispanic, like
Cenia. Then she wore her hair down. She had the most amazing hair that fell
nearly to her waist in soft waves of brown, auburn, and gold. When she wore her
hair down, Shae looked Hawaiian. Whatever her ethnicity, she was beautiful and
she radiated a kindness that caused everyone in the program to gravitate toward
her. She seemed oblivious to the effect she had on people, which made her all
the more endearing.

I
was a little stressed over not having a job, but I was happy to be back in
school. I found the people in my program fascinating. The studies were diverting
enough to keep my mind off Michael when I was sitting in class or buried in
books.

I
still found myself fighting tears when my mind wasn’t engaged in coursework. Memories
had a tendency to sneak up on me, especially when I was alone. I longed to hear
Michael’s voice and contemplated calling him more than once, but pride
prevented me from picking up the phone.

I
was equally tempted to call Rafael, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate to cry
on his shoulder about how much I missed Michael. As much as I considered Rafael
my friend, he was still Michael’s brother.

I
was still struggling with sleep. The bed was too cold, my arms too empty, and
there was nothing to distract me from the gaping holes in my heart. Sleeping
pills helped dull the pain long enough to fall asleep, but I would inevitable
wake up crying. Cenia would comfort me when I woke up screaming from a bad
dream. I felt terrible about waking her up, especially when she had to get up
so early for work; but I couldn’t control where my mind went once I fell asleep.
I wondered if I would ever heal.

*
* * * * *

Cenia
hosted a Super Bowl party at the end of January. She promoted the event as a
chili cook-off. Her advertising scheme proved extremely effective given the
competitive nature of our friends. The men were responsible for cooking the
chili, and they weren’t permitted to consult with any women on their recipes.
The women were responsible for appetizers, cornbread, drinks, and dessert.

I
was really nervous about the Super Bowl party. I hadn’t seen any of the men
from our circle of friends and doubted they would be as forgiving as the women had
been. This would also be the first time I saw Kadyn since Thanksgiving. As
unfair as it was, I was praying he wouldn’t bring a date.

The
parade of manly-men carrying Crock-Pots into Cenia’s condo proved far more
entertaining than the Super Bowl. The fact that they had even purchased Crock-Pots
was a testament as to how serious they took the competition. Roger arrived
first. Cenia and I found the spicy aroma of his chili impossible to resist. We
trailed behind him as he set the Crock-Pot in the kitchen and immediately stole
a few bites. Roger waited for our reaction while we tasted his chili.

Cenia
smiled and gave him a kiss. “You did good, honey.”

“Yeah,”
I agreed. “I can’t imagine topping that.”

Roger
squeezed my shoulders as he draped his arm around me. “It’s good to have you
back, Krissy.”

Kadyn
walked into the kitchen before I could respond. As soon as he found a place on
the counter for his Crock-Pot, he pulled me away from Roger and gave me a big
hug. “You need to taste my chili before you say that.”

I
blinked back tears as I grabbed another spoon to give Kadyn’s chili a try. “Bacon?”
I asked.

He
nodded. “Yes, along with sausage and ground beef.”

Kadyn’s
chili was flavored with barbeque sauce where Roger’s chili was truly spicy. I
preferred spicy, but I gave Kadyn two thumbs up anyway.

“I
called your dad,” he confessed. “He gave me a few pointers.”

I
laughed. “That explains all the meat.”

Kadyn
and I scooted out of the kitchen to make room for Phil and Matt. “So, how’s
school?” Kadyn asked as we walked into the living room.

“Good.
I really like the program and the professors. My classmates seem nice, but the homework
is brutal. Now I know why they discourage students from working full time jobs.
I’m not sure how I’m going to juggle everything when I start working again.”

Kadyn
sat on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. “Have you had any luck finding
a job?”

I
propped my knee on the couch so I could face him. “No. I’ve been limiting my
search to government jobs, but I’m going to start looking into some non-profits
and NGO’s this week.”

Kadyn
waved at Mason and Gabi as they walked in and headed toward the kitchen. “Have
you found a place yet?” he asked as his eyes returned to me.

I
shook my head. “No. I haven’t had much luck finding anything in my price range.
Cenia hooked me up with a real estate agent. She’s showing me a townhouse in
Old Town tomorrow.”

Kadyn
glanced up at Mason as he joined us. “Just as long as you pick a place with a
good security system.”

Mason
sat on the other end of the couch. He pulled Gabi onto his lap. “You should let
Kadyn or me take a look at the security system before you decide on a place.”

I
nodded. “Thanks, Mason. I think that’s a great idea. It would certainly give me
some peace of mind. Gabi told me you’re pinning on Major. Congratulations!”

Mason
shrugged. “Looks like I’m in it for the long haul. You’re coming to the
ceremony?”

I
smiled. “As long as you don’t mind. I would really like to be there, Mason.
With everything you’ve done…” Tears suddenly pooled in my eyes.

Mason
looked alarmed at the sight of my tears. “It was nothing,” he mumbled
uncomfortably.

Marie
and Phil joined us. I swallowed my tears as Phil pulled me up for a hug. “Hey,
Kri. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s
good to see you too, Phil.” I smiled at Marie and gave her a hug.

Gabi
hopped out of Mason’s lap. She gave Phil and Marie a quick kiss on the cheek. “What
kind of chili did you make, and why did you bring noodles?”

Phil
chuckled. “I made Cincinnati Chili. You’re supposed to serve it over pasta with
cheese, onions, and crushed oyster crackers sprinkled on top.”

Cenia
strode out of the kitchen with a glass of wine. “Okay, the Super Bowl is
starting in fifteen minutes, so let’s get the logistics out of the way. There
are small sampling cups and plastic spoons on the counter, so you can sample
each kind of chili. Once you find your favorite chili, you’re welcome to dish
up a bowl. Appetizers, cornbread, and dessert are on the table. Wine is on the
counter by the wine glasses, beer is in the fridge. Feel free to serve yourself.
There are small strips of paper, pens, and a plastic bowl in the kitchen. Be
sure to vote on your favorite chili before half-time. I’ll announce the winner
then.”

Matt
popped his head out of the kitchen. “Wait. What’s the prize?”

Cenia
laughed. “Bragging rights, of course!”

We
really only watched the first and fourth quarters of the Super Bowl. The
commercials and the chili garnered more attention than the second and third
quarters of the game. Phil’s Cincinnati Chili was really good, especially with
the pasta, cheese, and onions added in. Matt’s chili included only two
ingredients; ground beef and cumin. This inspired a rather lengthy debate on
whether taco meat could even be considered chili. Mason did an amazing job, especially
for a guy who primarily cooks frozen pizza. He added pepperoni to his chili and
insisted we sprinkle diced dill pickles on top. The bizarre combination tasted surprisingly
good. Roger’s chili had habanero peppers, jalapenos, diced tomatoes, and four
different kinds of beans. His chili was my favorite, but I couldn’t bear the
thought of voting against Kadyn.

Roger
won the title for best chili in the end. Kadyn came in second place. As they
filed out of Cenia’s house with their Crock-Pots in tow, each of the men
promised to up his game for the next Super Bowl party. The chili cook-off was
now slated as an annual event.