Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Both of our phones buzz—his from the table beside his recliner and mine from my purse. He nabs his, expression sobering as he scans the screen. “I’ve arranged a meeting with Corey and his agent so we can figure out the best way to deal with this. He’ll be issuing a public statement to help smooth things over; I can tell you that much. And we’ll get the divorce papers filed correctly, so that’s dealt with too.”
“This is going to be such a PR headache.”
“Slater is always a PR headache. If I’d known he was going to be such a constant problem for the team, I never would have agreed to the trade.”
“I should’ve told you as soon as you signed him. Well, I should’ve told you as soon as I dropped out and came back home six years ago, but I was pretty embarrassed by the whole thing.”
“We’ll get it dealt with so you can move on from it.” He taps the arm of the couch. “How’s Kingston handling it?”
“He’s . . . handling it like he handles everything, I guess.” But that’s not necessarily true. I’ve never seen him as upset and angry as he was tonight, before I explained what happened.
“Does that mean the two of you are okay?”
“For now, I guess.”
“For now?”
“It’s a lot to deal with.” I’m a lot to deal with.
“He cares a lot about you, though, Queenie. I can see that. He’ll weather this storm with you.”
I want to believe my dad is right, but the problem is, I am the storm. And I worry that after a while, Kingston will want to trade the cyclone that is me for someone whose calm matches his.
CHAPTER 24
BUSY BODIES
Kingston
“What kind of girl gets married at eighteen in secret?”
“This is soap opera level off the hook!”
“She’s way more exciting than Jessica, that’s for sure.”
“Do not encourage this, Gerald! Ryan does not need this kind of drama in his life.”
I scrub my hand over my face. This call has been going for a good ten minutes. My whole family is on the call, so it’s a lot of loud voices and opinions being shouted at me. It’s giving me a headache. “Can you all stop talking over each other, please? And I think I get to decide how much drama I need in my life, Mom.” Despite her being my grandmother biologically, she’s still Mom to me. I can’t unlearn that. And unless it’s a private conversation, I still refer to my momster as Hanna.
“How well do you really know this girl? She’s still legally married to another man. You can’t continue to date her,” Mom replies.
That gets a few coughs and some muttered agreement.
“I respect your opinion, and your concerns, but that’s not a choice you can dictate for me.” Although I will admit it’s a bit of a mind-bender to find out that I’ve been sleeping with a married woman, regardless of whether or not that marriage should have been dissolved more than half a decade ago. It’s bringing up a lot of conflicting emotions, like guilt and anger, and in some ways it feels like another betrayal.
“Where is your head, Ryan?” Mom snaps. I can envision her, sitting at the kitchen island with the glass bowl full of fake fruit in front of her.
“She must be a wild one in the bedroom if you’re willing to take on this kind of press.” I bet a million dollars my brother is smirking. He’s also not wrong, but it’s about a lot more than how compatible we are between the sheets.
“Gerald Joseph Kingston, that is not appropriate,” Mom chastises.
“But it’s probably true,” says Gerald. He’s ten years my senior and acts like he’s still seventeen.
Mom decides to ignore that comment. “I understand that maybe you needed to sow your oats, Ryan, and now that you’ve done that, I think you should consider getting back together with Jessica. I know you went through a rough patch, but it’s clear she still cares about you.”
“We’re not having a discussion about my relationship with Jessica right now, Mom.”
“But you have years together. She’s already like a daughter to me. Have you spoken to her?”
“Not recently.” And I don’t plan to, either, but telling my mother that is like telling a religious fanatic that their belief system is flawed: pointless and asking for trouble.
“Well, I saw her last week, and she asked how you were doing. I told her you would come to your senses soon enough. You don’t want to wait too long, or she’ll move on and find someone else. I would hate for her to settle, or for you to do the same.”
“This isn’t about settling.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated and trying not to go off on her. My head is a mess over this, and I can see the damage Queenie’s mother did to her self-esteem and self-perception by constantly telling her she wasn’t ever going to amount to anything. I’m beginning to understand Queenie better, and this situation gives me a much clearer picture of why she’s so damn hard on herself. It also makes me wonder what it’s going to take for her to get past that, and if she even can, considering she’s spent the past six years hiding this mistake from the people who are most important to her.