Feather Light (Knead Me) (32 page)

“It’s probably better that way.”

It was the wrong thing to say, when all he wanted was a reason to bind him to Kelly. He was certain now that he wanted her back, wanted a baby with her, and most of all, he wanted a life with her.

Chapter 17

It took Parker a week to pull himself together—and it had been hell. Talk about the getting hit from all sides. But the clincher had been the news that Kelly wasn’t pregnant. He’d thought it was for the best, but now he wanted it more than anything. Of course he’d been lying when he said he wanted her out of his life, because in reality, she was the very air he yearned to breathe. Only Kelly could complete him. Then again, like all broken things, he needed to fix himself first.

It had taken tremendous effort to leave the house when all he wanted to do was wallow in self-loathing. He’d downed an immeasurable amount of vodka over several days, drinking himself into sleep—often sick and dehydrated. But after hours of reflection, Parker had decided that, instead of self-destruction, the better course of action would be to get out there and win Kelly back.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but with his parents’ steadfast support, he took the first step and made an appointment with a psychologist.

At first, he was vehement about denying he had a problem. But after some time, he was compelled to admit they were right. In his efforts to show the people around him that he was coping well, he’d neglected the most basic aspect of dealing with his blindness—how he
felt
about it. He’d failed to address the crux of his fears and insecurities. Instead, he’d swept them aside, showed a cheerful demeanor, and pretended they would go away in time.

There was much to be done before he considered himself worthy to ask Kelly for forgiveness. Besides, even if he wanted to call, the problem remained that he had no way of contacting her.
 

Parker grimaced at the thought before pulling on his sunglasses. He was on the way out to wait for Cork to take him to his first psych appointment when he heard the honking outside. He hadn’t spoken with Cork since that night. Webster had dropped in a few times, bringing paperwork from the office that needed his attention. She’d kept their conversation on a professional level, and judging from her silence, he knew she was still upset about his outburst. He had attempted to apologize several times, but she’d scoffed at him and left.
 

Parker slid into the passenger seat and felt for the seat belt. “Hey, how’s it going?” He faked a smile, hoping Cork wouldn’t see right through him.

Cork grunted and started the engine.
 

Okay, I deserve that.

“Cork, listen. I acted crudely. I’m not making excuses. I was wrong, so wrong about everything. I’m not sure how to make it up to you and Webbie, but I’m sure as hell not going to stop trying.”

“You’re an asshole,” Cork muttered.

“Yes, I am.”

“And a dumb, blind, stinky bastard, too,” his brother added. “You haven’t shaved.”

Parker grinned, feeling a sliver of hope. “That, too. You can keep going.”

“You’re not forgiven yet,” he said. “What you said that night hurt, Park. I was just trying to help.”
 

There was unmistakable pain in his brother’s voice. Parker took a deep breath, knowing if there was anyone he could bare his deeper fears to, his brother was the one who would understand.

“I know . . .” He jammed his fingers through his unkempt hair.
 

Cork didn’t answer right away, and he could guess his brother was choosing his words.
 

“Webster and I can forgive you because you’re family and you’re her friend.”
 

“Somehow I managed to push away everyone who meant well. You don’t know how bad I feel about what I said to you . . .”
And Kelly
, he added.

“We’re willing to overlook what you said, but I don’t know about Kelly. She looked messed up when she left. You know she was in an accident the day before. She went to New York to see you, but you’d already left. When she landed at LAX, the paps followed her, and the whole thing escalated to an all-out chase. Poor girl. It wasn’t a pretty picture.”

Parker’s chest tightened. He knew he’d done irreparable damage. Nothing could undo his stupidity. “Yeah, Jessica told me.”

“She’ll be ok.” Cork put a reassuring hand on Parker’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Cork. I promise . . . man, I don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you and Webbie in time. If this trip to the head doctor means anything . . .” He took a deep breath. “I know I lost my credibility with Ann. Heck, I don’t even know what to call her. She’ll never want to see or hear from me again, and I can’t blame her.”
 

“Getting your shit together is a big step, bro.” Cork patted him on the shoulder.
 

Parker clenched his fists, wishing he could do something, anything, besides being helpless. Kelly had gone through so much to get a chance to explain, and all he’d done was shut her out and hurt her.
 

“We took her home that night after she left your place. We found her outside on your sidewalk, crying. She was a mess—”

His heart turned somersaults. “You know where she lives?”
 

“Yeah, but—”

“I want to see her. I feel like an ass for the way I treated her. It wasn’t right. I didn’t even let her talk—”

“As I was saying, we dropped her off at her house. Gee . . . it’s not just a house. It’s a goddamn football field.”
 

Cork seemed impressed, and Parker was annoyed by that. “What the hell? I don’t care what kind of house she lives in! Where in the hell does she live? Take me there!”
 

“Calm down, Park! She’s in Africa, filming. She won’t be back for some time. I think that’s what she said.”
 

Parker groaned, feeling his tiny bubble of hope burst. “Damn it.”
 

“I have some brotherly advice. Take it if you have even the faintest hope to win her back. Get your shit together first and see what you can do to improve yourself. You know . . . you’ve fucked it up.” Cork chuckled.

“I don’t see what’s so funny. I’m hooked. I can’t get her out of my mind. Some days I think I’m going insane.”

Parker closed his eyes. His temper had gotten him nowhere, but self-flagellation wasn’t the best route either. Cork was right. There were so many issues he needed to address first. His knee-jerk reaction after discovering Kelly’s lies, along with Mrs. Crawford’s death, had sent him down a disastrous road. He should have given himself some time to think before he reacted.

“I only did it because I was falling in love with you.”
Kelly’s heartfelt words played on constant loop in his mind. His heart broke into a million pieces each time.
 

“Are you okay?” Cork asked, worried.

It took Parker a moment to answer when he realized the cause for his brother’s concern: he was crying. He wiped away the tears and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah.”

They didn’t talk the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. When he emerged after the one-hour session, he felt lighter, as if a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders. Baby steps, the psychologist had told him. They had discussed some simple things he needed to do to get his life and confidence back, one of which was to accept his visual impairment and embrace the consequences that came with it. Parker had no other choice, and the sooner he welcomed his reality and faced it head on, the better off he’d be.

Another appointment had been scheduled, and he couldn’t wait. It felt like he’d seen life in perspective for the first time since he’d gone blind. He strode out of the office feeling relieved and thankful for the opportunity to start his life over again.

Cork met him at the entrance of the building. “Where to now?”

“I need a cell phone,” he said.

Cork chuckled. “That’s right. You annihilated the last one.”

On their way to the store, Cork started talking business, filling him in on the financials as well as employee gossip. Parker hadn’t been to any of his three offices in the last two weeks. Although dying to get back to work, he felt he needed the time away to heal.

“Larry called yesterday.”
 

“What’s up?” He sat straighter. Larry was his lawyer and represented him and all of Knead Me’s interests.

“He said he got a call from NYPD and the coroner’s office about the autopsy results.” Cork paused, and he was sure his brother was waiting for him to say something.

“Go on.”
 

“She died of a heart attack just like the initial reports said. As it turned out, she was in the advanced stages of lung cancer. There wasn’t anything you or anyone else could have done for her. If you’re thinking that by seeing her distress you could have saved her, think again. She was going to go. So if you’re still blaming yourself over her death, you can start fixating on something else because it wasn’t your fault.”
 

Parker exhaled, relieved, in part, and also sad. It was difficult to think that his adored client was gone.
 

“It doesn’t change anything, though. I still feel bad. She had no family.” He recalled their conversation and couldn’t help but think of the lonely ending to her life.

“And that’s another thing. She had no heirs, right?”

“As far as I know, no.”

“She willed her Manhattan penthouse to you and donated the rest of her huge fortune to research on retinitis pigmentosa. Can you believe it?”

Parker was dumbfounded. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. There’s an envelope in the office waiting for you. I think the old lady was expecting it and prepared everything beforehand.”
 

The car stopped, and Cork turned off the engine. Parker heard the door open and close, but he remained in his seat, unable to grasp the news. Why would a wealthy woman bequeath a fortune to her masseuse?

When he got his bearings, he slid out of the car, still thinking of Mrs. Crawford and her death. Once more, his chest tightened as the final moments with the old woman hit him like a punch to the face.

One of the production people poked her head inside the trailer door. “Ms. Storm, they’re ready for you.”
 

Kelly put down the book she was reading and checked herself in the mirror, scrutinizing her hair and makeup. “Not bad,” she said before smoothing her khaki pants.

She’d been in Africa for over a month, spending her first Christmas away from home. She was mending, thanks to the daily mental exercises her therapist had suggested. It helped when the memories came flooding back. Every day she thought of Parker. Forgetting him was proving to be an impossible feat, but she was determined not to repeat the past, even if it meant hiding in order to cope.

Closing her eyes, she willed the bittersweet memories away. There was no point in getting lost in the past. Moving forward was the best thing to do. Kelly grabbed the fedora resting on the table and proceeded to the set.

Nerissa Bryant, the director, looked up and smiled when she arrived on the set. Kelly switched into acting mode. The production had been moving along as planned. She had immersed herself in the project, pushing her inner struggles to the back of her mind until she was alone in her room at night, where she spent most of her time berating herself for her stupidity. Soon after, she’d cry herself to sleep.

After strapping the camera around her neck and reviewing her script, Kelly signaled to Nerissa that she was ready.

She lost herself in the role, reciting her lines with complete abandon, happy to be working and not having time to think of anything else for the next seven hours. The day of filming was a success—no multiple retakes, which was always a nightmare for the cast. She was heading for her trailer when she heard Nerissa calling after her.

“I’m going into town today. I need a decent meal and maybe a couple of drinks. Want to tag along?” she asked when she finally caught up with Kelly.

Kelly thought it over. Their meals, although gourmet, had been too predictable. She wouldn’t mind a change in her daily routine. It wasn’t as if she had anything better planned.