“I appreciate your vote of confidence, and especially the extra help. I know you didn’t have to do that.”
Charlie’s chin buckled as he shook his head. “Sorry it didn’t work out differently, kiddo. With your talent, you should be working for National Geographic.” He gave a disgusted sigh that echoed Kyndal’s pain. “The little man just doesn’t stand a chance against the political machine.”
After Charlie left, Kyndal sank down on the couch, deflated. “Little man, indeed. I feel like I’ve been crushed into oblivion.” She eyed the two business cards he’d left with her. “Write a book. Wait for months to hear back. Starve in the meantime.” She tossed that one back on the coffee table. “Move to St. Louis. Photograph diseased body parts. Eat. Some choice.” She grabbed the nearest throw pillow and punched it with her fist. “It…just…isn’t…fair!” She tossed the pillow away. “But, then, life’s never been fair, has it?”
She started to pace, venting her frustration aloud because she needed to be heard, even if it was only by herself. “I was the valedictorian, but Chance got into Harvard. I had a great job with the website, but Mike made bad choices. I took the best shots, but somebody called in a favor. I’m sick of running into roadblocks every time I think I’ve turned a corner.”
She was crying now, and she wasn’t sure why. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She’d worked hard, never asked for a handout, paid her own way. So why this…humiliation?
She sighed, and her breath became ragged at the admission.
She’d dared to hope maybe this time, someone would have a reason to be proud of her…proud enough to want her in his life.
How many times had she imagined Mason Rawlings pointing to her and saying, “That’s my daughter”? Or Mom turning down a chance to be with a man just to be with her.
But more than anything else, she’d wanted to be Chance’s equal—someone he wouldn’t be embarrassed to introduce, not just as the mother of his baby, but as the woman he loved. The woman he never wanted to leave. His wife.
She’d been foolish enough to believe there might be hope for the three of them to be a family. But nothing had changed. She and Chance still lived in two different worlds. “And when worlds collide, bad things happen.”
Her heart was breaking in two—a very bad thing.
The cell phone startled her out of her reverie. She glanced at the caller ID. Chance. She wasn’t prepared to talk to him yet, but maybe this was better. She wouldn’t have to see the pity in his eyes—or his disappointment in her. She pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Kyn? It’s Chance.”
“Yeah. Hi.”
“You sound funny.” Worry infused his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Bad news. I didn’t get the job.”
There was a long hesitation. “Oh, Kyn. I’m so sorry.” Pity? Check. “I know how badly you wanted it. Hell, I wanted it for you.” And disappointment brings up the rear. “You want company?”
“No!” Her vociferous tone brought a pang of guilt with it. “I mean, thanks, but I want to be alone to wallow in my self-pity.”
“So what’s the deal? I thought Charlie loved your stuff. What happened?”
“Politics.” Resentment weighed heavy in her word. “Somebody with friends much higher up.”
“Ah.”
Was it her imagination, or was guilt hanging in the silence on the line? How many times had the Brennans used the same kind of connections? It was a world she was banned from being any part of.
“Well.” The upbeat note in Chance’s voice sounded disingenuous. “Maybe the charity thing Wednesday night will cheer you up. What d’ya say?”
Images of introductions at the event hurled through Kyndal’s mind. “This is Kyndal Rawlings. She’s pregnant with my child.” “Hi, Kyndal. What do you do…besides get pregnant?” “Well, right now, I’m an elf, but only until tomorrow. Next week, I might take a position that will let me photograph toe fungus. But who knows, if I work really hard, I might move up to fatty tumors someday. Of course, that’s only if I decide to move. If I stay here, I can sponge off Chance until he decides he’s had enough.”
A prophetic shiver ran up her spine. “I’m going to have to say no, Chance. It sounds too much like a date, and I don’t think dating is the direction we need to take this relationship.”
“Because…?”
C’mon. You know you’ve got to do this. She breathed through the pain. “Because we’ve been there.”