Filfthy (62 page)

D
erek

S
everal days
in Manhattan is not my idea of a vacation, but I’m not above admitting that I went there in hopes I might run into her.

I was able to find a hotel with a wellness spa attached, and I spent the better part of my stay getting massages and “grounding my center” in these ridiculous yogi-led meditation sessions that were included in my wellness package.

I felt like a moron, and I may or may not have cracked jokes the entire time, but after everything that has transpired the last two weeks, I figured I could use some kind of tranquility in my life.

I left feeling somewhat renewed and refreshed. And for the better part of yesterday, I wasn’t consumed with all things Serena Randall.

At eleven o’clock Sunday morning, I pull into my parents’ drive. They’re not expecting me, but I know the drill. Mom’s been serving brunch at this time for as long as I can remember, and my youngest sisters are in town.

Family time should do me some good.

I spot Demi’s car parked in the street as I head up the walkway, and my father greets me from the red Adirondack chairs on the front porch. Royal sits beside him, looking to be checking baseball stats on his phone.

“Derek.”

“Oh, hey,” I say. “Didn’t see you guys there. Why aren’t you inside?”

“Just came out here to get some peace and quiet.”

Royal rolls his eyes. “Bunch of Gossiping Gabbies in there.”

Dad lifts his hand and pretends to make it ‘talk.’ His narrow gaze moves to mine, and he smirks. “Doesn’t help that there’s a bonus one in the mix today. It’s like a damn sorority in there.”

I look at Royal, then to Dad, my brows meeting in the middle. Royal looks at Dad, and my patience grows thin.

“What are you not telling me?” I hook my hand on my hip just as the front screen door opens.

“I’m supposed to tell you brunch is ready.” Serena spots me and freezes, unblinking.

And my heart stops dead in my chest.

Before I have a chance to react further, she’s gone. The door shuts.

“There’s your answer.” Royal’s tone is half-dry, half-amused.

“What’s she doing here?” I point my question toward the both of them before turning toward my father. “And how are you okay with it?”

Dad shrugs and rises. “Apparently, she’s been holing up with Demi and Royal the last two weeks.”

“Are you kidding me, Royal?” I spit his name. “You couldn’t bother to tell me?”

“I was under strict orders.” His brows lift. “She didn’t want you to know where she was. I had to respect that.”

Dad moves to my side, scrutinizing me, looking like he’s two seconds from preparing another lecture.

Only he inhales, hooks one hand on his belt loop, and then lifts the other to my shoulder, squeezing.

“I’m not always right about everything,” Dad says, lips jutting out. “Most things. But not everything. And as I’ve come to learn, as I’ve gotten older, I don’t give the best advice where hearts are involved.”

He heads inside, and I’m left with Royal.

“The hell does that mean?” I ask.

Royal shakes his head and shrugs. “He’s
your
dad.
You
crack that one.”

My father, who was apparently lingering on the other side of the door, steps back outside.

“She’s a nice girl,” he says, dragging his fingers down the sides of his mustache. He peers over my shoulder, looking up and down the street before clucking his tongue. “It’s not her fault you messed up.”

He disappears.

“In other words, all of this is
your
fault.” Royal smirks, and I could punch him.

But they’re right.

All of this is my fault.

I let it get out of hand.

And I let her walk away.

* * *

T
he women are seated
around the table when we head in.

“Derek!” Mom clasps her hands against her chest when she sees me. “We weren’t expecting you, sweetheart. Come in, have a seat.”

“About time.” My youngest sister, Daphne, stands when she sees me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “Missed you,
dorkus majorkus
.”

I take the seat beside her.

On the opposite side of Daphne is Delilah . . . who sits beside Serena . . . who won’t so much as look at me.

“What, no love for me?” Delilah leans forward, her dark hair pooling at her place setting. She pushes her seat out. “Fine. I’ll come get it since you appear to be allergic to this side of the table.”

Delilah gives me a hug from behind, practically choking me, and Mom motions for Royal to have a seat next to her.

“Can we eat now?” Dad huffs from the head of the table.

“Yes, Robert.” Mom looks at me when she speaks, and I can’t read her. I’m not sure what she knows. What was said about me. What she thinks about Serena. But I’m sure I’ll find out. “Royal, would you say grace?”

I chuckle. Growing up, Royal always hated when Mom asked him to say grace. He’s probably the least religious person sitting at this table, but the last thing he’d ever want is to disappoint Bliss Rosewood. She practically raised him, and she’s the only true motherly figure he’s ever known.

A minute later, food is passed and the clinking of silver on china fills the dining room.

“So, Serena,” Mom says with a warm smile. “Demi tells me you attended Wellesley?”

“I did,” she answers. “I studied Political Science and International Relations.”

Never would’ve pegged for for a poli-sci major. Sure as hell explains her draw to that asshat, Keir Montgomery.

“You’re very brave to want a career in politics,” Dad says, taking a swig of orange juice. “It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“I’m not sure what I was thinking, to be honest.” She chuckles lightly. “In retrospect, it was a bit foolish for me to go that direction. I guess I was following my interests at the time and not thinking long-term. I don’t think I could stomach a life in politics in this current climate.”

“
C’est la vie
.” Daphne sighs, pushing her food around.

“Live and learn,” Demi says. “There’s always grad school.”

“Serena, Demi also tells me you’ve been living in the city,” Mom continues. “How do you like life in New York?”

By the time she starts to answer, I find myself staring at an empty plate. I’ve scarfed down my food like a goddamned heathen in my feeble attempt to focus on anything but the fact that Serena’s sitting mere feet away.

“New York is a very vibrant city,” Serena says. “Fast-paced. Cutthroat. The kind of place you could find yourself and then lose yourself all over again.”

Daphne leans back in her chair, her hand on her heart. “
Poétique
.”

“I feel like I need Google translator with this one over here.” Royal points to Daphne.

“Oh, hush.” Mom swats Royal’s arm. “She’s been enamored with the language since she was a little girl.”

“Two semesters later, we have our very own foreign exchange student.” Delilah snickers.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as Serena leans closer to Daphne, placing her hand on her arm and winking. “
J’aime Paris
.”

I pour myself a second glass of orange juice that I don’t need and grit my teeth through the duration of our brunch. When everyone’s finished and the kitchen becomes a commotion of chatter and stacked plates and running water, I disappear into the basement, into my childhood bedroom.

* * *

I
t always felt bigger growing
up.

Sitting on the floor with my back against the closet doors, I plunk the strings of the acoustic guitar I begged for at fourteen. Dad paid for lessons for three years, but I gave it up when sports became a bigger focus for me my junior and senior years of high school.

Strumming a simple chord, I marvel at the fact that it returned so easily to my memory. Guess my head isn’t stuffed with law and order after all.

The door handle jiggles, and I glance up. Royal pops in, shutting the door behind him, and takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

“Are you hiding?” he asks.

“Nope. Just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Mmm, hmm.” I feel him watching me. “What are you playing?”

“Nothing. Chords.”

“That thing used to be twice your size. Now it looks like a little ukulele in your arms.” Royal snorts. “That shit’s adorable.”

I push it aside, placing it back on its stand, and slip my hands behind my head, interlacing my fingers.

The sounds of women’s voices waft from the other side of the door, and Royal and I exchange looks.

“Why are they coming down here?” My face scrunches. This feels like high school all over again.

The basement was always my area, but my sisters and their chatty little girlfriends wasted no time staking their claim. After many a blowout, my parents declared the family room neutral and shared territory—a bitter defeat I never quite got over until it was too late to matter anymore.

“Third door on the right,” I hear Delilah call out.

A second later, my bedroom door bursts open, and a slack-jawed Serena stands frozen in my doorway.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” she says after several seconds of tongue-tied silence.

“
Third
door,” I say, pointing. “This is the second.”

She lingers, caught in my stare.

Royal glances from her to me before running his palms along his thighs and standing up. “Well, this is where I leave you to work out whatever the hell you need to work out. Sorry, guys, but that brunch was all kinds of awkward, and I blame the two of you.”

He squeezes behind Serena, prompting her to step inside my room, and he pulls the door closed behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I had no idea you were going to be here today. Demi said—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Serena tugs on her lower lip, holding it between her teeth and drinking me in like it’s been years since she last saw me.

“Is it true?” she asks. “Did you really go to New York?”

I rise, because it feels incredibly juvenile to have a discussion of this nature while seated on the floor. This isn’t fucking high school.

Serena watches me, her breath hitching as I move closer.

“I plead the fifth,” I say.

“You were looking for me.” She isn’t asking. “Why?”

“To be completely honest,” I rake my hand along my jaw and move closer. “I don’t know why I wanted to find you or what I was going to do once I did. I think I just needed to see you one last time.”

“One last time?” Her pretty face tilts, her eyes locked on mine.

“Whatever we had ended the day you walked out and never came back,” I say. “I just wanted to see if I’d still feel the same when I saw you again.”

“Same as what?”

“Same way I felt the first time I saw you,” I say. “And I needed to know if I’d imagined all of this. If it was all in my head.”

Her chin tucks, and she rolls her eyes, releasing a breath of a laugh. “You didn’t imagine anything, Derek. It was real. All of it.”

“How do you know? How do you know it’s not chemical reactions and ego and the kind of bullshit that makes intelligent people do stupid things?”

“Because of the pain.” Her gaze lifts to mine. “The physical pain of knowing you hurt someone you cared about. That means it’s real.”

I exhale slowly and then breathe in the intoxicating scent of her sweet citrus perfume permeating from her sweet, soft skin.

I
want
to kiss her.

I
need
to kiss her.

I need
her
.

Before I can stop myself, my fingers are in her hair, my mouth on hers. The only thing I can do in this moment is quiet my thoughts and do what feels natural.

She doesn’t fight it. She melts. Her body caves, accepting the force of the kiss as we stumble back to the twin bed centering my childhood room.

“You’re a fool.” Serena slips her fingers through my hair, and I feel the shape of her pretty lips bow as she kisses me. “A damn fool.”

I don’t disagree with her.

If falling for her makes me a fool, then I’m guilty as charged.