Adam's Apple (Touch of Tantra #1) (26 page)

“What you did that evening was disgraceful and cheap, and obviously a horrible decision. I’ll never understand that part of your life. But the woman agreed to be with you,
she understood
.” Kathryn caresses my arm with her fingertips. “She was wrong to believe there was more to you then casual sex.”

“I suppose, but my actions got the whole ball rolling. Simon could’ve shot Tom or Lois, and I can’t seem to shake that fact.” I close my eyes, trying to clear the ugly thoughts from my mind.

“Look at me, Kingsley.”

I open my eyes to see her peering at me intensely.

“Nothing happened to them, though. Yes, you made a choice to have sex with this woman, but she was malicious. She deceived a trusting man. Simon fell in love with her, but she knew the entire time he was just a means to an end as she hoped to get near you. To me that is pure evil. She took a person’s heart and twisted it. But the final blame lies with Simon. Not you. He didn’t just change on a dime; maybe the break-up triggered something. Judging by his actions, I think he’s been out of touch with reality for longer than you realized, and her betrayal pushed him off the deep end.”

“I’ve wondered what I missed with Simon. He’s always been extremely private, keeping
everything
to himself. We met our freshman year at MIT; all four us, Tom, Simon, myself, and Patrick. We lived on the same floor. Studied together and dreamed big dreams. We were young, idealistic, and ambitious.” I rest my hand on her hip and rub my thumb over her skin.

“Your dreams seem to have come true.” Kathryn pats my arm reassuringly and looks pensive. “Did Simon date much in college or after? I’m wondering if he had a lot of experience with women and heartbreak.”

“Not that I know of. Simon liked to be behind the scenes; he was quiet and not your typical college guy. Even back then, he stayed in on the weekends. We would study like mad all week and go apeshit wild on Saturday night. I honestly don’t recall him dating anyone before his ex-fiancée.” I run my fingers through my hair and close my eyes, briefly remembering how the guys and I ran the streets of Boston while running into many willing coeds along the way. “Occasionally, Simon would come out with us. But he’d always ended up going home alone after we, um, hooked-up with some girls.”

“Typical college behavior, but it carried on way past college for you.” Her tone and words scold me; even her eyes carry a rebuke in them. “But not typical for Simon. His behavior seems anti-social. I really do think he’s had issues for a long time.”

“Well,
Dr. Kathryn
, I think you’re right about Simon. He was more than just shy. At times I felt like he loathed people.” I place my arm around her waist and pull our bodies together. The silky sheets help her glide easily into my arms. I bury my face in her hair, breathing deeply while kissing her exposed shoulder. “Thanks for being here for me. I don’t know where I’d be right now without you, likely alone and working my way through a bottle of scotch.”

“I’m here for you, Kingsley,” she softly mutters while I nuzzle her neck and feel her fingers lightly scratching my back. Her encouragement and acceptance of me soothes me like a healing balm. I raise my head and brush a few strands of hair away from her face, then trace over her cheekbones with my fingertips.

“Thanks for not judging me and giving me a chance. I still wonder why you’ve let me into your life? Was it something your mother said?” I smile remembering how Mrs. Swanson attempted to play matchmaker with us the other night at the event.

“You know I’m a Vanderbilt, right?” I answer her with a shake of my head. Thanks to Peters’ research, I knew this fact the first night we met. “I figured as much, you stalker. There appears to be something in my DNA that attracts bad boys. My mother, aunts, and cousins have all succumbed to one, however they managed to tame the tiger in them, too. The list of former bad boys in our family tree stretches for miles. I believe it’s some mutated gene we Vanderbilt women carry.”

“Beautiful, you don’t have a mutated gene in this delectable body of yours.” I run my hand down the front of her body, grazing the tips of a nipple, ending at the curve of her hip. Everything about her is simply perfection without a flaw or blemish. “Now me, on the other hand…”

“What about you?” She has no idea how loaded that question is. It’s nothing short of a bomb waiting to be detonated. “I know nothing about your past or childhood. But you know everything about me.”

She’s gently trying to coax my life’s story out of me, and I’ll be damned, but I’m feeling like sharing it with her. If she could handle the craziness with Simon and didn’t run away, that speaks volumes to me.

Maybe it’s her training as a psychologist that has me opening up and talking to her. Although it’s more likely she makes me feel safe and secure, because for the first time in ten years I’m willing to trust someone and crack open the door of my past.

And Kathryn’s not just anyone; she’s the woman who’s given herself to me in every possible way.  She led me through that intense Tantra session, and I felt a load literally slough off me.

Now it’s time for her to know where those demons originated, and how my life was started on this earth.

“Kingsley, are you all right?” My back is to the glass windows letting in the city light. My position keeps my face in the shadows as we lie on the bed facing each other. She can’t make out that I’m lost in thought as I contemplate how to start my story. I guess starting from the beginning and how I was conceived is the best.

“If I tell you who my father is, then you’ll understand why I’m the one with the mutated genes.” I laugh half-heartedly, because there isn’t a drop of humor in the facts surrounding my birth father. He’s a cruel, selfish bastard. Before I start sharing the details, I place my hand on the small of her back and pull her tighter to me. I want to feel her skin against mine.

“My mother, Flora, was a beautiful woman, much like you.” I bring my hand to her face and brush my knuckles against her cheek. Kathryn leans into my touch. “She studied at Parson’s School of Design. The summer after she graduated,
Vogue
magazine offered her a job as an assistant to an assistant. Very low on the totem pole, but she had her foot in the door.” 

“
Vogue
held an event for the fashion industry soon after she started. That’s where she meet my, for lack of a better term, father. I don’t know all the details surrounding their meeting, because I found out this information after my mother’s death.”

“Kingsley, I’m so sorry. How old were you when she died?” Now Kathryn is tracing her fingertips up and down my arm almost hypnotically, but even with her tender touch, I don’t know if I can talk about this subject. Every time I even think about her death my heart races, and for years it’s been the subject of all my nightmares. I turn over onto my back, sighing before I speak again. I need a few seconds to prepare myself.

“She died when I was twenty-two, right before I graduated from MIT.” I take a deep breath and stare at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. “She called me on a Wednesday night saying she wanted to talk with me. It was unlike her to call mid-week due to my studies. Our usual calls were on Sunday night. Everything about our call seemed odd. Her voice was strained and weak. I kept asking if she was sick. She said wasn’t feeling well and likely wouldn’t make it to my graduation the next week, saying she had a bad virus. But I wasn’t buying it.”

Kathryn moves closer to me and I tuck her into my side. She lays her hand above my heart and skates her fingers over my chest. I close my eyes to focus and absorb the power of her touch; the next part is the toughest.

“I hadn’t been home once the entire semester, and I had this feeling in my gut something was up. She’d never miss my graduation. Not in a million years. She was the type of mother who came to every game, awards assembly, or band concert. So I hopped a shuttle flight on Friday from Boston to Philly. My finals were over and basically I was done at MIT.”

Turning my head to Kathryn, I see her eyes filled with compassion, encouraging me to continue. I have to look away from her, because I can’t face her goodness, knowing I was anything but good ten years ago.

“On the flight to Philly, a flight attendant shamelessly hit on me. She was pretty, so I returned her attention and flirted back. As she was preparing the cabin for landing, she slipped me a piece of paper with her name and hotel on it. She was staying at a downtown hotel near the airport and invited me to join there in an hour at the bar. I ended up going to her hotel. I stayed for a couple hours. After I was finished, I left in a cab to my mother’s house.”

My chest starts to ache and my breathing becomes harsh as I get closer to the rough shit.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
I can’t go back to this.

I shoot up straight on the bed as my heart starts to pound against my chest. Swinging my legs to edge, I place my feet on the floor and vigorously run both my hands through my hair.

Bringing up these old memories during my waking hours is no different than when they visit me in nightmares. The same panicked reaction courses through me.

Kathryn scoots over the sheets toward me, her brows drawn together. The pain etched on her face is for me. No one, besides my mother, has ever shared in my pain, but having Kathryn here calms me down a bit.

“Kingsley.” My name is a whisper on her lips; the pain I see on her face reflects in her voice.

“You don’t have to tell me any more tonight.” Kathryn moves to sit on the edge of the bed next to me. She places her small hand on my leg, and I cover it protectively with my own. I feel the connection between us in this simple touch.

“I need to tell you.” I swallow hard. My throat feels parched and dry, and I wish I had my glass of scotch.

“When I arrived at my mother’s house, the lights were off. The entire place was eerie. It wasn’t even ten at night, so she should’ve been up. I called out to her and there wasn’t a response. Just a still silence. I thought she might be in bed, so I hurried up the stairs. I switched on her bedroom light, and…” I pause trying to catch my breath and slow my heart down. My body is so geared up it feels like I just came off a five-mile run.

“She was lying on top of the bed’s covers in one of her favorite dresses, but something was terribly wrong. Her hands were folded over her chest, and I glanced at her nightstand and saw some pills scattered over the top. It didn’t seem possible, but I knew she swallowed some of them.”

Kathryn wraps both of her hands around my single one. Her small gesture means so much to me.

“I’m at my mother’s side in a second, and begin to shake her. But there’s no response. In a panic, I pick up the bedside phone and dial 9-1-1. I can’t tell you what I did until the paramedics arrived. They tried to revive her, but they were too late. They put her body on their gurney and covered her with a white sheet to take her away. ‘The coroner said she’d only been dead about an hour. I might have been there to save her if I hadn’t…” I’m unable to finish as I feel a couple small tears fall down my face. The first ones I’ve cried since her graveside.

“Kingsley, how horrible. I can’t even imagine.” She leans her head against my arm, and I glance over at her, wondering if my tears are hidden in the darkness.

“She had cancer; a Stage 4 Glioblastoma, an inoperable brain tumor like the one that killed Senator Kennedy. She didn’t want to burden me with her terminal illness as she slowly died. So she took her own life. I’d planned to head to New York after graduation, and she feared I’d come back to Philly and take care of her instead. But I still can’t shake the fact that I was fucking some strange woman while she was alone, dying.” I lower my head in disgust at myself, wondering if Kathryn is disgusted with me, too.

“You can’t blame yourself, Kingsley. You had no idea.” I feel her giving me light kisses along my arm.

“How did I just find you now? Why couldn’t you have come into my life ten years ago?” I release her hand and clutch her tight to me, never wanting to let her go.

“Hush, you sweet man. I'm here now.” She runs her fingers through my hair and stops in the back where she twirls the ends around her fingers. I hum quietly, relishing in her soft touch.

“You don’t know how much I need to hear that. I’ve never spoken about her death to anyone, just her attorney. He gave me a letter she’d written. He was instructed to give it to me after her death.”

“So is this when you learned about your father?” I take a deep breath and plod on, knowing
I’ve said all I can about her death tonight.

“Yes, for years I was told my father died shortly before I was born, but I found out that wasn’t the case at all. Her attorney had a letter she’d written a couple days before she died.” I close my eyes as I feel Kathryn trace her fingers tenderly across my back, helping me calm down.

“And in many ways, it wasn’t a lie, because his only acknowledgement of my presence on this Earth was when he presented her with a check for ten million dollars. The only stipulation to cashing it was my mother had to sign away any legal recourse to sue him for more money. It was a paternity settlement, of sorts.”

“I feel so sorry for your mother. And for you, too. How horrible to learn something like that after she was gone. The questions you must’ve had.”

“You wouldn’t believe the questions I had. They were endless. I’ll never know the answers to them, either, because they’re buried away with her forever.”

“And because of this, it’s difficult for you to put closure on her passing?” I nod. She’s right, not having answers about my father and her death has kept me in limbo, unable to let go of those hard memories. I sigh deeply as she moves even closer to me, comforting me with her kindheartedness.

“Closure? That’s something I will never have.” I know the bitter truth of these words. Some things broken can’t be fixed, and I’m convinced this applies to my situation.

“It’s possible to have closure without having all the answers. The path isn’t easy for this kind of healing, though. You would have to be willing to see a therapist. Talk through the past.”

“Doubt that’ll be happening anytime soon. There’s no way I could talk to a complete stranger about this.” The very thought makes my heart start racing.

“Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than someone you know. Just something to think about, because I hate seeing you in such pain.”

“I’ll think about it.” It’s a vague promise I know I won’t keep. Probably shitty of me, but I’m not ready for the psychiatrist couch yet.

“Good.” She takes both of my hands in hers and gives them an encouraging little squeeze. “You do know who your father is. He must be a wealthy man to a give her such a large sum.”

“Yes… the hush money.” I laugh at the term, because it’s anything but quiet to me. “He’s wealthy and well-known. I’ve seen him at various functions, but I’ve made damn sure we’ve never officially met. I’m convinced he knows who I am, because he stops and stares at me with contempt when he sees me. I’m sure my look back at him is no different.”

“So he still lives in the city and you see him? God, that has to be hard as hell, Kingsley.”

“Well, it’s difficult to hide from Xavier Thorpe, the mascot of New York City.” Kathryn’s entire body tenses up when I mention my father’s name. I even feel her gripping my hand tighter. “What’s the matter? Do you know him?”

“Yes, I know him.” Her voice is shaky and she sighs while lowering her head. I sense she’s not comfortable talking about him. Something odd we have in common it appears, but I don’t know what it is. “Although I’ve not seen him since I was nineteen. I’m a close friend of his son.”

“
Oliver?
Thorpe disowned him and exiled him to San Francisco when he came out, right?” She nods her head and a sad look crosses her face. Then a thought comes to my mind. She was meeting her gay best friend in town from San Francisco tonight. “Hey, the man you met for happy hour…”

“Yes, it was Oliver Thorpe.” She bends over and wraps her arms around herself. She’s clearly troubled by this conversation. “Ollie and I have been friends since we were… well I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know him. He’s been in my life for that long.”

“You two grew up together?
It’s unreal
. What are the chances that you would even know my half-brother? What's Ollie like? Is he a good guy?” I lean down toward her, anxious to hear more. I’ve known about my half-brother since shortly after I learned who my own father really was. I’ve always been curious about him.

She’s sitting back up straight now, but her arms are still around her waist. “Ollie’s great and was there for me during the darkest period of my life.” I wonder if she’s referring to the death of her husband. “Maybe you could meet him someday? I don't want to push. But he'd love to know he has a brother. He's an only child, and I know you two have a lot in common where your
X
is concerned.”

“Really? How so?”

“You both were exiled by your father. One for being conceived, the other for being gay.” I can’t understand how a man could be so cruel by rejecting his own offspring.

“I’ve watched Oliver’s career out in Silicon Valley for years. He’s done well for himself without the help of X. But I never wanted to intrude in his life. Maybe someday I could meet him. I have a few distant relatives, but I’ve not seen any of them since, well, since her death…”
 

“I’m sorry, Kingsley. You must’ve felt very alone all these years, especially during the holidays.” She smiles warmly at me, understanding the loneliness of not having close family. Christmases have been hell. I try to go somewhere tropical to avoid the holiday every year. Palms trees and women strolling the bea
ches in barely-there bikinis help me forget what time of year it really is.

“What can one do?” I shrug because I know there isn’t a fucking thing I can do to change things. “I still can’t believe you know Oliver,
I mean Ollie
. I suppose you two did belong to the same social circles.”

“Our mothers were friends when we were growing up.” There is a troub
led look in her eyes, as if the memory of their friendship is painful.

“Hmm. They
were
friends? Does that mean they aren’t any longer?” Kathryn moves back up onto the pillows. Now I know I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“After my father’s death, my mother and Ollie’s quit being friends. Their friendship is irreparable.” She gives nothing away with her brief comment. Only the bare facts, and it feels like the tables are turned and I’m talking to myself.

“I can see you like talking about the Thorpe’s as much as I do.” She smiles weakly at me, but it’s a smile at least. “Maybe we’ve had enough talking for the night. I’m beat.”