Say You Still Love Me: Chapter 23

I’m absorbed in monthly financial reports when knuckles rap twice against my glass door. I look up, expecting my dad.

When I meet Kyle’s golden eyes, I can’t help the wide grin that erupts.

“Good morning, Miss Calloway,” he says in his calm, professional tone. He holds up a small rectangular box. “You have a package.”

I lean back in my chair, taking in the sight of his hard body in that uniform. I watched him dress for work from the comfort of my warm bed at five thirty A.M.—as I have all week. It’s become routine—we part with a kiss and then I study the clock all day, counting down the hours until we’re home and we can be just Piper and Kyle again.

“Mark just stepped out to grab coffees.”

Kyle strolls in casually, coming around to my side of the desk, to set the box down. It bears my brother’s store label. “I know. I saw him and Renée leave.”

“You could have given this to him to bring on his way back.”

“I could have. I wanted to see you, though.”

“Really.” I can’t help but stare at the way he’s standing so close to me, his belt buckle and those fitted pants at eye level, the strain behind the zipper taunting. My body begins to stir. I tip my head up to find him peering down at me with heated eyes.

And, I’ll admit, as much as I can’t wait to be Piper and Kyle at home, playing senior VP and the security guard in the office garners a high level of thrill.

“Busy?” he asks.

“Always.”

His eyes flip to the numbers on my screen. “That looks . . . enthralling.” The boredom in his voice says otherwise.

I sigh. “This part isn’t, exactly. But what all these numbers and plans and meetings turn into at the end is . . . spectacular.” Skyscrapers and condo buildings, homes and jobs for thousands. A mark on an entire city.

He eyes me strangely.

“What?”

“You work a lot.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He bites his lip. “Your ex paid me a visit today.”

“What did he say?” I ask warily. It’s been four days since David found out about Kyle and me, and he has been oddly subdued. He’s made no mention to me about it. He’s walked past Kyle without acknowledging him. All in all, he’s been very un-David-like, and it’s beginning to worry me. “He didn’t say anything. He just stood there and stared at me.”

“Stared at you.”

“For ten or twelve seconds, until Gus stepped in and asked if he was okay. And then he left.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll see what’s going on in that child’s brain of his.”

Kyle nods slowly. “Are you going to be late again tonight?”

“Probably. I’m sorry. Things are nuts right now.”

“Okay. Just let me know when you think you’ll be home and I’ll come down.”

A forty-five minute transit commute home, only to head back down two hours later? I sigh. “Why don’t you just bring a bunch of clothes with you so you don’t have to keep going back and forth after work? You can use the building’s gym. I’ll give you a key.”

His eyebrows spike. “You’ll give me a key?”

Unease settles in my spine. “Is it too soon?”

He hesitates. His long eyelashes bat as he blinks. “I don’t know. Is it?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, reaching forward to drag my nail along his thigh. “All I know is that I love being with you every night.” There has been no question or hesitation so far. Kyle finishes his shift at six and goes home to work out and change. He’s back downtown by the time I’m home from work. It’s only been a few days and yet the very idea of Kyle not staying a night, of us not waking up with our naked limbs tangled together, makes my chest tighten.

“Same.” His voice is husky.

“Okay. So . . . maybe we shouldn’t worry about moving too fast or too slow. Maybe we should just do whatever feels right.” Because, though it has only been a few days, Kyle and me have been years in the making.

His lips twist into a smile. “I’ll bring a few days’ worth of clothes with me tonight.”

My heart skips a beat. “Good.”

His eyes graze my lips. “It’s killing me not to kiss you right now.”

The tension in my office is escalating quickly. For once, I’m glad I’m in a fishbowl. If this were my father’s office, we’d likely be on my desk by now.

“Think about it all day and save it for tonight.”

His jaw tenses and I chuckle, reaching for my envelope opener, to run it through the sleek brown kraft-paper packaging. “What could Rhett have sent me now, I wonder. Oh, also . . . before I forget, I was asked to pass along this message.” I pause my unwrapping to reach for my phone and find the text from Christa to read aloud: “If your boy toy is going to be wandering around the kitchen in the middle of the night, can you ask him to put on some clothes. Thanks.”

“I had clothes on!”

I give him a look.

He shrugs. “I’ll put on track pants next time.”

“Thank you.” I pick up the note that sits on top of the wrapped gift. A housewarming gift. I pull back the tissue paper. And gasp. “I totally forgot about this!” Inside the box I find a picture of my parents, Rhett, and me, on the bow of my father’s old yacht. I’m around ten, with bangs and a blue ribbon pulled through my hair. Rhett looks like the token prep school student who he used to be. Dad and Mom stand arm-in-arm. We’re all wearing crisp white-and-navy-blue outfits, and grinning.

The frame itself is made of old bicycle chains. Another of Rhett’s creations, no doubt.

I set the frame on my desk and smile at it. “Look how happy we were.” I sigh. “So long ago now.”

“Do you miss having that?”

“Honestly? I forget what it’s like . . . But both of my parents are happy with other people, so I guess I should be thankful for that, right?”

Kyle nods, his eyes on the picture but his gaze far off.

“Do you ever miss your family?”

“I miss certain moments with my mom, yeah,” he admits after a moment. “It took officially cutting them off to really feel it.” He smiles sadly. “Holidays are weird.”

I smooth a hand over his hip. “Well, you and Jeremy are welcome to come out to Martha’s Vineyard to watch my aunt Jackie get bombed and let me kick your ass at Monopoly.”

“Sounds like fun.” His fingers entwine with mine. “Just one kiss and then I’m gone?”

I tsk. “You’re still that same little boy stealing kisses, aren’t you?”

The crooked smirk he gives me sends my blood racing. “Do I look like that same little boy?”

“No. You do not.” And yet he’s still my Kyle.

I’m about to agree to a kiss when Renée breezes in, announcing, “Grande double macchiato!” in that impossibly charming Southern twang.

Kyle steps back, breaking our touch a split second before she looks up.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. The coatrack blocked you.” She cringes. “I should have knocked. That’s a bad habit of mine. Mark had to stop on the third floor, so he asked me to deliver.”

“It’s fine, Renée. Security just came to drop off a package for me.”

“And now I’d better keep doing my rounds.” He clears his throat. “Miss Calloway.” He strolls out, nodding once to Renée.

Her eyes trail him with interest as she watches him go. “So what’s his story?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he single? Is he a nice guy? ’Cause dang . . . He’s somethin’ to behold every morning on my way in.”

He’s mine.

Clearly she didn’t notice Kyle pulling away, and didn’t sense the tension crackling in my office. It’s not that my office isn’t electrified by it. But I’d bet money she would never assume that a woman in my position would be with a man in his.

I force a smile. “He has a girlfriend.”

“Is it serious? Like, how long have they been together? Weeks, months . . .”

“Years.” Thirteen years. With a lot of missed time to catch up on.

“Well, doesn’t that sound sweet.” Her words are in stark contrast with the way her shoulders sink with disappointment. “Guess I’d better get my nose away from that scent, then.”

I smile at her choice of words. I’m not surprised Mark is infatuated with her. Renée would be hard not to like. “How’s working with David going so far?”

“Oh.” She waves a manicured hand. “He’s a dream.” She laughs at my raised eyebrows.

“Between you and me, after what Mark told me, I was expecting a lot worse. Of course, he’s a giant man-baby, but he just wants to be taken care of. Lucky for him, I like taking care of needy people.”

“Well, then, you are a stronger woman than me, because I have no patience for that man,” I murmur, savoring the first sip of caffeine.

“I just have different aspirations, is all. Look at you! You’re gonna be runnin’ the world soon. You don’t have time for that sort of thing. But me . . . I’ve had my wedding dress design since I was seven. I’ve already got my three kids’ names picked out and the color of their nursery and I can’t wait to join the PTA. It’s my jam.” She shrugs. “This is just a job for me. A great job, don’t get me wrong! But the part I like most about it is taking care of someone and making his life easier.” She pauses and then her eyes widen. “Oh my Lord, it sounds like I’m trying to marry my boss and have his babies, doesn’t it?”

I burst out laughing. “It sounds like you know who you are and what will make you happy. I’m impressed.” Even if it doesn’t look anything like my life plan. To be honest, I don’t have names or nursery colors picked. I have “children” penciled in for my thirties—mid to late thirties, the way it’s looking now—but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. David and I had talked about starting a family, but it was always more in passing, like, “Sure, we’ll have one, eventually, when it works for us.” We were both more focused on the Calloway world—the only real thing we had in common.

I have no idea if Kyle wants children, I realize. The topic never came up at Wawa beyond talk of condoms and birth control to avoid having them. We were too young then.

But now, I’ve jumped off another cliff to be with him and I have no idea what I’ve landed in. I’m ready to hand him a key, but what kind of life does Kyle see for himself? He’s already making comments about how much I work. What if he wants a Renée?

I will never be a Renée.

“You okay, Piper?” She watches me carefully. “You literally just went from laughing to dead silent, like that.” She snaps her fingers.

“I’m fine.”

She hesitates. “Do you miss being with David?”

“No. Not at all. I was never meant to be with him.” I toy with the paper wrapping from the package. It’s foolish, but I can almost feel Kyle’s hands on it.

Speak of the devil . . . David pops his head into my office then. “Renée, I need you now.”

“And I need you now,” I demand.

“I don’t have time—”

“Two minutes.”

“She sounds like her father,” he mutters, handing Renée a folder. “Meet me in my office.”

Renée marches out, her calf muscles bulging from her high heels.

“What is it?” David asks, and he has the nerve to sound annoyed.

“What was that stunt earlier today in the lobby?” I ask calmly.

“What stunt?”

I glare at him.

“Oh, so he ran up here and cried to you? What kind of man are you with?”

“David!” I snap. “What were you trying to do?”

He begins pacing around my office, his hands on his hips. “I know I was joking around about it because it was funny at first. Shocking. It didn’t really hit me until after I got home and replayed what you said, and how you said it.” He stops in front of my desk. “You’re in love with this guy, aren’t you?”

I purse my lips.

That’s answer enough for him.

“Fuck . . .” David sighs heavily. “I guess, I don’t know. In the back of my mind I thought you’d be so focused on taking over for your dad that you wouldn’t have time to date, and then eventually you’d wake up and realize I’m the guy for you and we’d get back together. I did not see this coming. The last few days have been . . . weird for me.” He frowns as if replaying them in his head. “I almost told Kieran everything on the green today.”

“You what?” I hiss, my body going rigid, the urge to run for the lobby, to protect Kyle from what’s about to come, overwhelming.

He holds his hands in the air. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

I sink with relief into my chair.

“So I want you to know that I’m not okay with this, and I’m probably going to be a dick every once in a while because I’m not okay with it.” He frowns. “But I won’t tell Kieran. I don’t want him to do something that would hurt you.”

My annoyance with David softens. Words like that don’t come easily for a man as self-absorbed as he is. “Thank you for the warning. But please don’t harass Kyle. It’ll make people talk.” Thank God Gus is already aware of our relationship.

“I was just letting him know that if he hurts you, he’ll have to deal with me.”

Kyle and David are the same size, but something tells me Kyle would win that fight. I bite my cheek to keep the laughter at bay. “You’re still an idiot. But that might be the most considerate thing you’ve ever said to me.”

His lips twist as his gaze drifts across the way. “Maybe I should start screwing the help, too.”

And . . . he’s back.

“I think that’s a great idea. She already has your children’s names picked out.”

“What?” Panic flashes across his face.

“I’m kidding. Now go away so I can work.”

Except now my focus is splintered between pie graphs and babies.

“Hello?” I holler, kicking the door shut and slipping off my shoes. I’m exhausted, it’s a quarter to ten, and I told Kyle I’d be home two hours ago. The kitchen and living room are empty. He’s not in our bedroom, either, I note with dismay.

I’m just about to call his phone when I catch movement on the patio.

I smile. Kyle, Ashley, and Christa are standing beneath a canopy of lights strung from every corner.

“There you are,” I murmur, wandering out to wrap my arms around his waist from behind. His cotton T-shirt is soft against my skin. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

His fingers graze mine. “That’s okay. Ash put me to work as soon as I got here.”

“It looks great.” Outdoor furniture, surrounded by gauzy curtains and tall palms, fills the formerly empty patio.

“See, Christa? Piper thinks it looks great,” Ashley says, in a way that tells me Christa’s had a few criticisms.

“We need to move that end over by a foot,” Christa directs, pointing to a far corner, waving the staple gun toward Kyle.

He shifts in my arms and leans down to kiss me. “Your dinner is probably cold by now.”

“I know. I’ll heat it up in a bit. I need to talk to you first.” I hook my finger through his belt loop and tug, leading him inside and down the hallway, all the way into my bedroom.

He smirks. “So, is talking code for—”

“Do you want to have kids?” I blurt out.

Kyle’s mouth drops open. “Uh . . .” He pushes my door closed behind us. “Eventually.”

“How many?”

He hesitates, frowning. “What’s going on, Piper? Where is this coming from?”

I sigh. “Renée.”

“Renée knows about us, too?”

“No. We were talking about life and she started talking about her three kids—”

“She has three kids? Wow. You’d never guess.”

“No! But she knows she wants them. She’s got their names and nursery colors picked out, and everything!”

His eyebrows arch. “Renée sounds a little bit intense.”

I let go of his belt loop and begin pacing around my room. “I know. But she made me realize that here we are, falling deep and fast into this relationship. I’m ready to hand you a key after not even a week together, but I don’t really know you!” Worries that have been simmering all day bubble to the surface now, and I can’t keep the panic from my voice.

“Yes, you do, Piper.”

“I don’t, though. Not anymore. I’m not talking about the little things, like your favorite color or your favorite song, or that you broke your arm when you were six, or that you love jumping off cliffs.” All the small, seemingly important Kyle-facts that I collected over that summer. “I’m talking about the big things.”

He slides his hands into his pockets. “You know about my family. I don’t tell anyone about them, Piper.”

“Yeah, but it’s not even that. I’m talking about the things that will make or break a relationship. Things you don’t talk about when you’re sixteen and skinny-dipping and racing around in golf carts. And I am terrified that once we start finding out all those things about each other, what if we don’t work at all?” What if my mother is right?

Kyle sighs heavily. “Okay.” He reaches for the door.

My anxiety flares. “Where are you going?”

“Relax. I’ll be back in a minute. Just . . . get changed.”

I watch him stroll out the door, wondering if unloading on him like that was the best way to approach this conversation. It’s too late now.

By the time I’ve washed up and pulled on my lounging clothes, Kyle is shifting furniture around the little seating area. I catch the smell of warmed Mexican food and my stomach growls in response.

“Hang out over here with me for a while,” he beckons.

Not until I reach the armchair do I see the tattered blue sleeping bag spread out on the ground, the woven flannel interior faded. No way . . . “That’s not the same one from camp.”

“The one and only.” He smiles and drops down on his knees on one side. “Don’t worry, it’s been washed.” He holds a hand out for me.

“Who knew you were so nostalgic?”

He peers up at me, sincerity shining in his beautiful eyes. “You knew.”

I scan the leather band around his wrist, the tattoo engulfing his arm. “Yeah, you’re right.” I did know that. I settle down next to him, accepting the plate and one of two glasses of red wine. “You drink wine now?”

He chuckles. “Eat, before it gets cold again.”

I marvel at the softness of the worn flannel under my bare feet as I take a mouthful of Spanish rice and chew slowly.

“Yes, I would like to have kids.” Kyle swallows. “Eventually.”

“How many?”

“I figured I’d start with one and see how that goes. Well, unless I end up with twins right off the bat.” He eyes me warily. “Do you have twins in your family?”

I shake my head.

“Me neither. So . . . one to start. Then maybe a second, so I can pit them against each other. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“You wouldn’t do that. Well, maybe you would.” I laugh, but I don’t miss the underlying message there—he’s talking about us having kids. Together.

My heart skips a beat. Maybe I’m not crazy to have these thoughts sitting heavily in my mind so soon.

He hesitates. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

“I think so. Eventually. I just don’t know how I’m going to fit them into my life.”

I get a soft smile in return. “That’s because you don’t fit kids into your life, Piper. You fit your life around them.”

“How, though?” I push my food around on my plate with my fork. “How do I fit building a twenty-five-story condominium complex around soccer practice and school bake sales?”

“I don’t know. A supportive spouse? A nanny? Good employees?”

“Like Tripp?”

Kyle shakes his head but chuckles. “I want to knock his teeth out every time I see him. You need to get rid of him now.”

I groan. “I’m still waiting on that damn report from the phone company, and who knows if that’ll give me anything. I don’t want to talk about Tripp right now, though. But my dad . . . I think of how hard he’s worked all his life and how hard I work now, and I just don’t see how I can manage kids. As it is, I feel like a kid playing dress-up at an adult party most days. Like I don’t belong in this world.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I’ve always been afraid that someone will agree with me, that saying the words out loud will make them true.

“Security guards hear and see a lot more than people give them credit for.” Kyle leans back against one of the armchairs. “Do you know what I see when I’m in that building?”

“Old men staring at my ass?”

“Yeah, not gonna lie—I want to punch a lot of your employees out.” We share a laugh and then Kyle’s expression turns serious. “But it doesn’t happen as often as you think. More than that, I see people sitting up straight when you enter a room; I see their eyes glued to you when you speak. When I hear your name floating around, it’s said with respect.” He smirks. “Sometimes with a bit of fear.” He pushes a strand of hair off my face. “And I see a woman who has I don’t even want to know how much money to burn, busting her ass all day and coming home exhausted at night to the penthouse condo that she’s welcomed her camp friends to live in rent-free, and having conversations about kids with new assistants, and stopping to greet the old security guard at the front desk when everyone else is too busy to look up. Do you know how happy that makes Gus?”

“I’ve known him all my life, is all.”

“No, it’s because you’re still you. You’re still the same kind, generous, down-to-earth girl from Wawa who cares about people no matter where they fit. Hell, you could be sailing around in a yacht, or drinking fucking lattes in a courtyard in Paris or whatever it is you rich people do, and yet here you are, working hard doing something that’s important to you, trying to please your father, with bags under your eyes, eating takeout on a Friday night.”

“You saying I look like hell?” I tease, cutting off a sliver of the chicken enchilada.

“No, I’m saying I know you. I might not know everything you want in life, and everything that’s happened to you over the past thirteen years, but you’re still the same person in here.” His hand settles on my chest, over my heart. “The rest . . . we can figure out along the way.”

I nod, the confidence in his words a balm to my earlier panic. Panic that arose, I realize, because I want this—us—to work out so badly.

“So . . .” Kyle’s hand falls away. “We both want kids eventually. Sounds like we’re okay on that front.”

I smile, feeling foolish for how I ambushed him with the topic. Though he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. “Sounds like it.”

He taps my plate, prompting me to eat. “What else are you worried about?”

“I don’t even know. Is there, like, a checklist we should go through? I mean . . . Religious beliefs?” I throw out.

“Love is love.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Tom and Doyle forever.”

I laugh, recalling the shy and secretive counselors. “Politics?”

“I did not vote for him.”

“Same. Uh . . .” Worry laced my mood all day, but now that I’m here, talking to Kyle, I realize that I have nothing to worry about. He’s right. I know Kyle. “All-inclusive beach resort or tours? Which would you prefer?”

He frowns. “Really? That’s a relationship deal breaker?”

“It is if you expect to drag me around smelly, hot cities on all-day bus tours with strangers as a vacation.”

Kyle’s head falls back onto the chair, the jut of his throat looking especially delicious at that angle. “Well then, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say option A. What else is there? Come on, ask. We’ve got all night.”

“All weekend.”

His head flops to the side. “I get you all weekend?”

“If you’re good.”

I get a cocky grin in return, his eyes alight with mischief. “When have I ever not been?”

“We’re recommending that we go with KDZ for the Marquee,” Serge says as the last slide of the thirty-minute PowerPoint pops up on the screen, stating exactly that. “The financials are competitive, KDZ’s timeline works better with ours, and their record with condo conversions may be short, but it’s solid.” Three other heads bob along with him.

After combing through and analyzing both construction proposals, the Marquee’s project development team of experts is giving their official stamp of approval.

And it’s not for the one I want.

I grit my teeth, feeling my father’s heavy gaze settle on me.

“Good work, guys. I agree wholeheartedly. Thank you.” Tripp smiles and nods, dismissing them.

Serge and the team quietly file out, to give the executive team a chance to discuss this decision.

Tripp adjusts his tie and flashes a smug smile my way before turning to my father. “Kieran, are we finally ready to lock on this and move forward?”

My father sizes up the screen ahead, his eyes narrow and calculating. I can practically hear his thoughts. KDZ is the proposal to go with. If not for Tripp and what Kyle told me, I would be leaning toward them, too. Not that Jameson hasn’t come in strong. But it’s as if KDZ prepared their proposal while sitting inside the walls of Calloway, hitting all our pressure points.

They probably did. From inside the walls of Tripp’s office. Hell, Tripp might have written this proposal himself.

I know my father. He’s weighing all this against a “rumor” that Tripp is taking a kickback, while I haven’t found any solid proof yet because the phone company is taking their sweet time delivering what I asked for. Maybe he’s deciding if he even cares, because at the end of the day, the contract is good for business.

But I just can’t stomach letting Tripp win.

“Piper? What are your thoughts?”

My father catches me off guard. That he would defer to me in a meeting is a step forward. For once, though, I wish he’d leave me the hell out of the decision. “I think KDZ looks good on paper and we can come to a decision within a few days.”

Tripp throws his hands up in the air. “In case you’ve forgotten, Piper, we’re behind schedule.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” I snap back. You’re the smug bastard who put us there.

“I agree with Piper,” David chimes in. “We have the recommendation. Let’s review, discuss offline, and make a decision by tomorrow.” He throws me a wink.

As much as David irritates me, I could kiss him right now.

“Oh, are you two back on again? Is that what this is?” Tripp mutters under his breath, just loud enough that a few hear.

“Piper, come with me.” My dad gives a curt nod and, not wasting another second, collects his notebook and phone, and stands.

I guess the meeting is over.

I feel like puking as I fall into step next to him and we walk side-by-side along executive lane, to the end.

“Who’s your source?” Dad demands to know the second his office door closes behind him.

“Someone who overheard Tripp’s conversation.”

“Piper . . .” His hands are on his hips, his jaw taut. “You’d better start talking, because otherwise I’m going to give the green light to KDZ. We have no reason not to.”

Dammit. I squeeze my eyes shut.

A knock sounds on the door.

“Not now!” my dad barks, but David steps in.

“I don’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, you do,” Dad snaps. “What is it?”

David smirks, but then his expression turns serious. “I ran into John Deveaux on the green over the weekend and he asked me what I thought of Tripp. You know . . . what he brings to the table.”

It takes a moment for what David is hinting at to click. “Tripp is putting out feelers.” To one of our biggest competitors, too.

My dad’s lips purse together in thought. “Deveaux lost his VP of Development. He’s looking for a replacement.”

“How long have they been in talks?” My mind works over the pieces. What’s Tripp’s play here? That we agree to going with KDZ, he pockets his cut on the deal, and then bolts? Not that I wouldn’t be relieved if he left, but this might explain why he’s so adamant that we sign now.

“My guess is, if John is approaching you, they’re about to make an offer,” my father mutters. “What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. That Tripp has built one hell of a network of connections but he’s past his prime, and Kieran, I agree with Piper. He’s up to something.”

My dad throws his hands in the air. “So you’ve told David, too.”

“Yes, I have, because I know David has Calloway’s best interest at heart. And you said so yourself—I need to surround myself with people I trust.”

Dad frowns. “What’s going on here? Is Tripp right? Is this back on?” He waves a hand between us.

“No,” I say.

“And has my daughter divulged this super-secret source to you?” Dad peers at David through steely eyes.

David takes a deep breath and my stomach drops. One crisis at a time, please. I’m not ready for the Kyle confrontation. “Give her some more time to find out if this kickback rumor is true. Don’t you think it’s timely that Tripp’s looking elsewhere?”

“Of course he’s looking elsewhere. Wouldn’t you be, with the way he and Piper have been carrying on?” Dad shakes his head. “Get me something by tomorrow night or we’re going ahead with KDZ. Both of you, get the hell out of here now.”

David slides out of my dad’s office on my heels. “Have I told you how much I love having my ass chewed out by your father?” he hisses.

I exhale loudly. “Thank you for backing me.”

“You need to consider that your blue-collar playboy may be wrong.”

“He’s not wrong,” I insist, even as that cloud of doubt swells. What if Kyle is wrong?

“Then prove it and fast, because I just went out on a limb for you and I have no fucking idea why.” He storms into his office.

Mark and Renée share a wide-eyed glance and then Mark is on his feet. “Do you need something?”

“No.” I breeze past him but then stop abruptly, my mind spinning. “Yes. I need to know exactly how much Calloway has spent with this damn phone company, when our contract is up for renewal, and what the penalty is for breaking it tomorrow.” Because I am not above all-out threats to get what I want.

I walk through the door at nine that night to the sound of Christa’s lecturing tone. “He shouldn’t have tried stealing third base.”

“But that’s what he’s known for,” Kyle retorts.

“Exactly why he shouldn’t have done it!”

I round the corner to find the two of them on the couch. Christa’s already in her pajamas, Kyle’s still wearing his gym clothes, and, unbelievably, Elton is perched on Kyle’s chest, his deep rumbling purr carrying across the room.

“The Red Sox lost,” Kyle announces, stroking the cat’s back. “Christa thinks it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that,” she retorts, clearly missing his teasing tone.

Despite my hellish day, the sight of the two of them sitting together brings a smile.

And coming home to Kyle here . . . this place is actually beginning to feel like home.

A home that is taking shape, I realize, as my eyes wander the space—to the colorful landscape artwork covering the walls, to the Edgewood Made table and white leather chairs filling the dining area. Ashley and Marcelle have been busy.

I scan the kitchen. “Where’s Ash?”

“Out to dinner. With Chad.” Christa gives me a knowing—and unimpressed—look.

“No . . .” I moan, wandering over to fall onto the couch next to Kyle.

“Why is this bad again?” he asks.

“Because he’s an idiot and she’s too good for him, but he’s come to beg for her forgiveness for being an idiot and she’ll take him back because she’s settling.” I could win a fortune betting on the outcome of this.

“Right. Got it. So Ash needs to meet someone else.” Kyle bites his lip. “You should introduce her to Mark.”

“Mark’s in love with Renée.”

“Good luck. Renée’s gonna be banging David within six months.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he says with that cocky confidence.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what about Eric?” Christa throws in. “She always had a thing for him. Is he still single?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Kyle’s brow furrows. And then he’s chuckling as Elton burrows his nose into his ear. “This feels really weird.”

“Do you two want some time alone?” I tease.

“I can’t help it if he likes me more than you.”

“He likes your drying sweat, is all,” Christa mutters, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table with a clatter.

“Ow!” Kyle hisses as Elton suddenly leaps off him and over the back of the couch, to tear across the penthouse. He stops by the French doors and spins around to attack the tip of his tail. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Kyle accuses, lifting his shirt to inspect the long, red scratch marks across his ripples of muscle, which are much more defined after being worked at the gym.

“And on that note . . .” Christa makes a point of rolling her eyes as she averts them, but I don’t miss the hint of pink in her cheeks before she stands and strolls toward her room.

“You up for a game in Boston if I get tickets?” Kyle calls out.

“As long as you’re not coming.”

“She’s definitely warming up to me,” Kyle mock-whispers.

“Make him get off our furniture and take a shower!” she shouts back, disappearing down the hall.

“Have I told you how much I love having you here?” I murmur.

He lets his T-shirt fall and takes my hand, pressing a kiss against the back of it. “What happened today?”

I sink into him with a groan—the smell of his clean sweat is intoxicating—and tell him about KDZ and my father’s ultimatum.

“Still no luck with those phone records?”

“No, and I spent twenty minutes promising their president that I’d pull our five-million-dollar-a-year contract with them if I don’t have what I need in my hand by tonight.”

Kyle checks his watch. “It’s still technically tonight.”

I sigh. “Do you think . . . is there any way that what you heard was wrong?”

“No.”

“But, what if—”

“This isn’t two truths and a lie, Piper. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s picking up on shady shit.” His gaze drifts to the TV, though I can tell he’s not watching the sports highlights. “God knows I’ve had enough experience with it.”

“It’s too bad Gus wasn’t there with you.”

“Right. Someone people would respect,” he mutters, and I don’t miss the hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Kyle, no one looks at you and sees what your dad and brothers did. No one but you.” Thousands of miles and years later, and he still can’t seem to shake his low opinion of himself. I smooth my hand over his stomach. “I respect you.”

He gives my hand a squeeze, and then pulls himself off the couch. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I watch him wander down the hall to my bedroom, waiting for him to pause, to turn back, to suggest I join him.

But he doesn’t.

Settling into bed with a glass of wine while I wait for Kyle to finish his shower, I open up my laptop and check my email. Re: Phone Records. Confidential.

My heart begins to race as I see the subject line in my in-box.

“Please, give me a smoking gun . . .” Please give me something that will prove Kyle’s instincts were right, and that Tripp is a thieving liar.

There are several attachments. I click on the first one and begin scrolling.

And smile with wicked satisfaction, even as my anger boils.

Kyle has just stepped out of the shower when I storm into the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his lower half, his hair damp, his chest glistening.

“Get dressed.”

He frowns. “Why?”

My adrenaline is racing. “They just sent me Tripp’s phone records and you were right. Of course you were right.” An odd sense of pride swells inside me, knowing that. “We’re going to show my father what Tripp has been up to.”

Kyle’s eyebrows arch. “We?”

“Yes. We. You are the reason Tripp isn’t getting away with this bullshit. We would have signed with KDZ otherwise and that dickhead would be laughing right now.” All the way to John Deveaux, half a million dollars richer. Who knows—maybe working with this Hank Kavanaugh could have been advantageous, but I want nothing to do with his business tactics.

“I don’t need to take any credit for that, Piper.” Kyle shakes his head. “You go ahead, seriously. I’ll be here to celebrate with you when you get back.”

“No! You’re coming with me. I can’t hide us anymore. I don’t want to. This isn’t summer camp and I’m not sixteen years old. I need to get this all out in the open, confront my father about what he did, and move on with you, whether he accepts it or not.”

Kyle’s gaze wanders the corners of the bathroom ceiling, his forehead etched with worry.

“Look, I know this isn’t going to make our lives easier in the short term. He’s going to be difficult.” A hint of dread weaves its way through the impending victory over Tripp. Difficult may be an understatement. It’ll likely end up in a fight and a few carefully launched threats from both sides. But what my father did was wrong, and I’ll make sure he’s aware. “We need to do this, Kyle. So we can move forward.”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “Okay, Piper.” He sighs heavily. “You want this all out in the open. So let’s get it all out in the open.”

I can’t help but catch the sorrow in his voice.