BOUGHT: A Standalone Romance (9 page)

When I hang up, I look at Connor. “We should get going. I really need to go see them.”

“I told you we have a lot more to do today.”

“What more could we have to do?”

Connor’s eyes narrow. “We need to go over everything, at least one more time.”

“Connor, I have to go see my son. I know you’re nervous, but honestly, what we haven’t worked out by now we’re just going to have to wing. Besides, we’ll have time tomorrow on the plane, right? It’ll be fine.”

I jump as Connor slams his hand on the table. A few people glance over at us. Leaning forward, trying to keep my voice down, I speak from between tightly gritted teeth.

“What is your problem?”

“You blow me off all of the time. You haven’t taken this seriously since the beginning. I don’t even know why I’m paying you. I would have been better off paying a hooker. At least I would have saved some money.”

I freeze. It feels like I’ve just swallowed a razor. How can he be so cruel? I stand up quickly, trying to swallow the pain that I can feel building up inside of me. The room is going blurry, and I can tell what comes next, but I refuse to let him see me cry. Instead, I turn on my heel and storm out of the restaurant.

I can hear Connor calling after me, but I’m too busy dialing for a taxi. There’s nothing to do once I’m outside but wait. Sure enough, Connor jogs out a few minutes later. Turning my back to him, I wipe at my eyes, looking for the taxi.

“I didn’t mean that.” I ignore him until he places a hand on my shoulder. “Angela…”

“Don’t touch me!” I pull away from him, my fists balled up so tightly that my nails are digging into my skin. “What is wrong with you? Do you always just have to go around trying to hurt people?” My words were getting stuck in my throat, the tears impossible to stop. “You know what? I don’t care. Don’t talk to me, don’t call me, don’t text me. Just, don’t. I’ll be back in time to pack and get this over with.”

As my taxi stops in front of me, I hop in. I try not to look at Connor, but I can feel his eyes burning into me. The look on his face is one that I’m not familiar with. He looks genuinely sorry. Then again, Connor seems used to getting his way. I turn to the driver to give him my address, and we’re off.

I wipe my face, knowing that my makeup must be smudged. When I look up, the driver is handing back a Kleenex. I take it tentatively, thank him and wipe my face clean. By the time I reach the hotel where Mary and Kyle are staying, I’ve racked up a big bill. I wince as I pay the man before I slide out of the taxi.

Instead of taking the elevator up to the sixth floor, I take the stairs. It gives me time to think as I approach their room. Standing outside, I take a deep breath. My heart pounds against my chest. I’m a runner, it’s what I’m used to, and the urge to run away is still very strong. I force myself to raise my hand and knock.

Mary appears in the doorway. The smile on her lips fades quickly. She looks behind her, then steps out into the hallway. I can see the concern etched on her face.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” I say quickly. I checked my reflection before I came up, but apparently there’s something that Mary can still see. “I just had a hard morning. Where’s Kyle?”

“He’s inside on that game of his. Come on in.”

Mary steps out of my way, and I walk into their room. It’s a lot bigger than I thought. It includes a small kitchen, and two beds are situated in front of a television. Off to the side are a table and couch. Kyle’s lying back on the couch, his feet perched on the arm of it as he plays his game.

“Feet off the furniture,” Mary admonishes as she closes the door behind us.

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Kat—Angela’s here. Why don’t you come say hi?”

Kyle glances up at me. I feel a smile spreading on my lips. Even though I’m nervous, I’m happy to see him. He gives me a small wave before turning back to his game. Well, it’s a start.

“I was just getting ready to make dinner.”

“What are you making?” I ask as I follow her into the kitchen.

“Homemade ravioli. It’s Kyle’s favorite,” she says with a little wink.

I mentally make a note. “I don’t know how to do that. I usually just eat takeout.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you, and I’ll give you the recipe.”

I wash my hands as she pulls out the ingredients. As I look through everything on the counter, I can’t find the ravioli. “I think you’re missing the ravioli.”

Mary laughs. “No, we make those from scratch. I already made the pasta earlier, so we just have to cut them out, fill them, and boil them.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“Trust me, one bite and you’ll see why it’s worth it. Kyle, come help us out. He’s really good at picking out the different fillings.”

Kyle sets his game down and shuffles over to us. As he washes his hands, I can see bags from their shopping leaning against the wall. For a moment, it makes me think about Connor, but then Kyle starts to help us cook and I’m fascinated. He’s quick, efficient, as I struggle with mine.

“How are you doing that?” I mumble as he drops another ravioli into the boiling pot.

“You can’t overstuff them,” he says casually. He eyes mine. “Like that.”

I look down into the pot to see that my ravioli has burst. There’s meat and ricotta floating in the water. Kyle starts to laugh, and I can’t help but to join him.

“Okay, so I’m not very good at cooking.”

“You’re awful,” Kyle confirms with a nod. “It’s okay, I’ll help you.”

For the second time in one day, my eyes mist up. Gently, I rest a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug it away, doesn’t pull away from me. I can see him blush a little. The urge to hug him tightly washes over me, but I know that would be moving too soon.

“I’m going to get my prescription from the store,” Mary announces suddenly. We both glance up at her.

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?”

“No,” she says with a wave. “I’ve got it. I’ll take my time. You two keep working on dinner. Kyle, start the sauce soon.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Mary kisses his forehead before she gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Once she disappears from the room, silence fills up the space. I wonder if Kyle feels as awkward as I do as I press down the edges of the ravioli with a fork.

“Can I ask you something?” Kyle bursts out. I can tell that the question has slipped out of his lips before he fully thought about asking it. It’s something that I do all of the time.

“Sure.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Go ahead.”

“You’re my real mom, right?”

“What does Mary say?”

“She says yes, but I don’t know. Everyone’s lied to me for a long time,” he says angrily.

I lightly rest my hand on his shoulder. “Kyle, Mary’s your real mom. I’m your birth mom, I had you, but she loves you so much. They lied for me because I asked them to.”

“Why would you do that?” he demands.

“Well, to protect you.”

Kyle scoffs. “Protect me from what?”

I sigh as I drop the pasta into the pot. “There’s a lot that you don’t know. I want to tell you, but some things should wait until you’re older, I think.”

“Like why you gave me away.”

It isn’t a question; it’s like he’s stating a fact. I recognize that same choked, sad tone. Guilt eats away at me, but how can I explain things to him? How can I tell him that his father is an abusive, sadistic bastard and that I was afraid he would hurt my child the same way he’d always hurt me?

“One day,” I say quietly, “I will tell you everything. I promise. I’m sorry that I gave you up. I never wanted to. I loved you before you were even born.”

Kyle turns away from me, but I see him run his arm over his eyes. I decide not to notice it and don’t say anything. When he turns back around, he’s focused on the food in front of him. At first, I think he’s still pissed at me, until he finally speaks again.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you to tell me. I’m still kind of mad about it though…” He trails off.

“You have every right to be. I’m going to make it right.”

We work in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. I can almost hear the two of us thinking. When Mary gets back, we’re already working on the sauce, the room filled with the smell of garlic. She picks up the spoon and tastes it before she nods.

“You two work well together. Let’s eat.”

“Can I pick a movie to watch?”

“Normally, no,” Mary says, and Kyle looks disappointed. “However, I think it will be okay just for tonight. What do you think?” she asks me.

“A movie would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Kyle takes off for the flat screen TV that’s sitting on the wall.

“How’d things go?” Mary whispers.

“Great. They went great,” I say with a smile.

She seems to relax as we make plates of food. Instead of sitting at the table, we sit on the two beds and eat as we laugh at the screen. I can’t remember ever feeling so much like a family with someone, not since I was young. I stay for the movie and ice cream. By then, I can tell that Mary is exhausted.

“I’m going to get going.”  

“Oh, no, stay.”

“I wish I could,” I say, “but I have to get ready for my flight tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?”

“All the way to New York. It’s where Connor’s family is from. I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

Mary nods. We hug at the door before I turn to Kyle. He looks around awkwardly, shuffling around from foot to foot. I smile softly before I hold out a hand to him.

“We don’t have to hug just yet. It was nice cooking with you.”

Kyle looks slightly relieved as he shakes my hand. I wave to both of them before I turn to leave. I decide to take the elevator down this time. My feet are hurting from the shoes, and I want nothing more than to trade them for something comfy, but I’ll have to get back to Connor’s place first.

Stepping outside, a slight chill runs over me. The sun went down a long time ago. The streets are nearly empty. I make my way to a lit up convenience store that I can see glowing down the block. I pull out my phone, thinking that maybe Zoey can give me a ride.

The phone is ringing as I cross the street quickly and freeze. My breath catches in my throat, heart pounds against my chest. I can feel myself go cold. Maybe I’m just tired, or maybe it’s too much stress. Quickly, I rub my eyes, but the picture in front of me doesn’t change.

He’s standing in front of the store, staring back at me with wide eyes. I can hear my breathing, loud and halting, but I could swear that I’m not breathing at all. My head feels light, and somewhere distant I can hear a woman’s voice echoing. She’s calling my name, there’s panic in her voice, but I can only focus on one thing.

Nathan.

I don’t know what to do. If I run back the way I came, I’ll be going through a dark area, and I can’t move too fast wearing high heels. I could push onward, but I can’t bear the thought of being anywhere near him. My phone starts to ring, and it harshly brings me out of my head. I look down to see Zoey’s face.

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Zoey, he’s—”

I stop as I glance up. Nathan’s gone. Where he’d been only moments before is now an empty sidewalk. I glance up and down the street, but there’s no trace of him. Zoey’s calling me again, impatiently. The fear in her voice makes me concentrate again.

“I’m okay. I’m fine. It’s just dark and I got spooked. Do you think you could pick me up? I’m in the neighborhood of the loft.”

“Of course I can, but what happened? You sounded so scared.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going into the convenience store. The one up the street from the Sunflower Hotel. I’ll wait for you inside.”

Zoey still sounds apprehensive. “Well, all right. I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up the phone before walking slowly to the store. Every small sound, every gust of wind makes me flinch and scan my surroundings thoroughly. When I step into the lit store, I don’t feel any sense of comfort. Instead, the clerk watches me with a raised brow as I check aisle after aisle to be sure Nathan isn’t still lurking inside. When there’s still no sign of him, I sigh heavily.

“Pack of Marlboro’s,” I tell the graying man behind the counter.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I mumble as I take the pack and step back outside.

“Your mind is just playing tricks on you. All of this stress can’t be healthy.”

Pulling out my book of matches, I strike one before I light up the cigarette. I blow rings of smoke into the night time air until a familiar car pulls up alongside me. Zoey rolls down the window before she gazes around me.

“Come on, let’s go.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I slip into the car, my heart now only slightly pounding and my hands only slightly shaking. As we pull off, I toss the cigarette out of the window and slip another from the pack.

“Okay, you’re chain smoking. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Angela,” she says, a warning tone to her voice.

I sigh. “I just… It’s really stupid. I thought I saw Nathan. When I looked back up, though, he was gone. He wasn’t in the store, and I didn’t see him walking down the street in the other direction. My brain is making things up.”

Zoey shook her head. “I don’t like it. You need to be more careful.”

“I will be.”

“I mean it!” Zoey shakes her head, and I can see how upset she is. “Don’t go out this late until he’s dealt with. I care about you, and he’s not stable. Please, listen to me, just once.”

I nod. “I will.”

We drive to Connor’s place in silence. When we reach his place, she gets out with me and gives me a tight hug. I walk up the stairs to the now quiet mansion before I turn back to wave at her.

As she pulls away I realize that I was so terrified I didn’t get a chance to tell her about what happened with Connor. The thought of him for the first time since the afternoon makes me cringe. I really don’t want to have to see his face.

I ring the doorbell, and it’s opened by a woman with long black hair and a serious gaze. She lets me in, locking the door behind me. Walking up the stairs, I try to be as quiet as possible. I make it to the room without running into Connor, which isn’t strange considering how big the place is. I close the door, throwing the lock before I turn to my bed.

All of the things we’d shopped for that afternoon are stacked neatly on the bed. I pull the top off of the purple box and sigh. Running my fingers over the material, I can’t help but wish Connor would at least try to be a little more civil. I think back to the moments when he’s sweet, funny, but he shifts to demanding so quickly that it often leaves me dizzy.

There’s a knock on my door, and I pause. For a moment, I don’t say anything. I may have to be nice to him tomorrow when we get to his parents’ house, but for now I don’t want to see him. The knock comes again.

“I know you’re here. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you talk to me. I just wanted to let you know that our flight is tomorrow at 10 am. We’ll change at my apartment there, and I’ll drive us out to my parents’. It’s kind of a long drive. Once we get there, everyone will be there for my sister’s rehearsal dinner, so you’ll have to jump right in.” He’s quiet for a moment. “And I’m really sorry I said that to you. I shouldn’t have. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As much as I don’t want to pay him any attention, I can help but smile a little. He’s trying to be nice, not pushy. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know him, and I know he was probably dying to push inside of the room and take control of the situation, but he was trying not to.

I push off my clothes before I pack for the airport. When everything is neatly arranged, I slide into the bed with a heavy sigh. I’m exhausted. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I feel my eyelids growing heavy. There’s a nervousness in the pit of my belly because, despite my earlier words to Connor, I am very nervous about tomorrow.

The morning comes much too early. I want to cling to the bed, sleep in, then maybe take another long, hot shower. Even though I’d turned in early the night before, my dreams had been plagued with nightmares of Nathan. I woke up so many times that I lost count. By the time it’s time to go, I’m groggy and cranky.

The knocking on my door persists as I pull myself out of bed. I drag myself to the door, sheet wrapped around my body tightly as I try to tame my wild, dark hair. Pulling open the door is a mistake, because Connor instantly barges in. He’s wearing only a t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers.

“We have to get going.”

“It’s only eight,” I groan.

“We still have to get the bags downstairs, you have to get dressed, and there’s the drive to the airport. It’s always a mess. Move quickly.”

“Same old you,” I mumble under my breath.

He casts a glare in my direction as I head off to the bathroom. The warm water is inviting as always, but I know if I stay in it for too long more knocking will commence, and that I don’t want to deal with. Quickly, I shower, wash my hair, and step out.

I picked out my outfit the night before: comfortable blue jeans, a black tank top, and a purple, light jacket. Knowing we’ll be in the air for a few hours, I apply light makeup and pull my hair into a ponytail. By the time I’m done, I walk back out into the room to see a large man carrying my bags out.

“Ready?” Connor asks.

I nod. “Sure. Let’s go.”

The same man who loaded our bags drives us to the airport. He helps us get our bags inside and checked before we head through security. I didn’t realize how long it was going to take us, even with first class boarding. By the time we get through security they’re already calling us to get to our seats. I pull my bag up my arm a little higher before we push onto the plane.

First class isn’t new to me, but I do enjoy it. I sit down in the oversized chair, thankful that I don’t have to deal with the cramped quarters behind. I push my bag under my seat before I get buckled in.

My favorite part of flying is the takeoff. The feeling of weightlessness coursing through your belly as you watch the world fall away is one I’ll never get over. Before I know it, we’re moving, and I’m glancing down at the ground, watching it disappear as we head into the clouds.

Connor insists on quizzing me last minute. I go along with it, but I’m having a hard time not being pissed off at him still. To make things go more quickly, I answer each question with short, precise answers until he gives up on asking me anything else.

For the rest of the plane ride, I’m left alone. I slip my earbuds in before I lean back in my seat. Sleep comes easily, but it’s hard staying asleep. I jump up, my heart pounding, looking around wildly for that old familiar face. Every time I do, I quickly remember where I am. The cycle repeats itself until I’m being shaken awake.

“We’re here.”

I force my eyes open and glance out of the window. We’re safely on the ground. I yawn as I stand up and grab my bag. We make our way through the terminal to the world outside. This airport is even busier than the one back home, filled with people bustling back and forth with phones pressed up against their ears.

Outside, there’s a car waiting for us. The man standing outside of the back door pulls it open for us, and we step inside. It’s not a far ride to Connor’s apartment, and each minute seems to bring us closer to the moment that I’ll have to impress these people who seem to be from a completely different world than me.

Connor’s apartment is huge. I don’t know why I’m surprised by that; I should have expected it after seeing his house. He directs me to the second bedroom, where I slip out of my clothes and take a quick shower before getting dressed. I save the lavender dress for tomorrow, the wedding. I go for a baby blue dress instead. It stops under my knees and is soft and delicate. I let my hair down, and it falls in curled ringlets. It only takes me a moment to brush it out straight. Going through my bags, I pull out the shawl that goes with it, drape it over my shoulders, and fix my makeup.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you something,” Connor says as I step into the living room. He’s fixing his tie in the mirror. “My parents think your name is Katie. So can you go by that?”

“Why do your parents know my real name?” I ask as I glare at him.

“It was a mistake. I heard Mary say it so many times that it got stuck in my head. When my mom called me the other day, I told her I was bringing you, and ‘Katie’ slipped out.”

I sigh. “I hate that name.”

“It’s just a few days.”

“And the nightmare’s over,” I mumble.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He looks himself over in the mirror. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.”

I nod before I grab my clutch. The elevator drops down to the garage, and he hits the alarm on a car. Instead of the practical little BMW, we’re standing in front of a sleek, red Porsche.

“Nice car.”

Connor grins. “I don’t get to drive her that often, but she’s my favorite.”

He holds open my door, offering his hand to help me in. I take it tentatively. When he’s sure I’m safely inside, he closes the door and jogs around to his side. Before long, we’re pulling onto the street.