The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,96
dad, separate from Millie, since she served as counsel for one of his companies for a few years.
“Yeah?” I ask, twisting my lips into a grimace “We’ll see.”
“He thinks you’ll win it all. He . . . um, does think you need a first lady, though, if you’re serious about this.”
I shrug. “It’s not in the job description that I have one.”
“But America’s never not had one. You’re breaking enough rules. Maybe you should be . . .” She reaches over and squeezes my hand, caressing my knuckles with her thumb. “. . . conventional in that respect.”
There was a time when I would have accepted the invitation so clearly engraved on the look Salina’s giving me right now. I have it under excellent authority that there’s a king-sized bed in the back of this plane. I know this because when I was in high school, I may have hijacked Daddy’s plane to impress a girl or two. I may have made use of said bed in the back.
Some guys steal their fathers’ cars. I stole Dad’s plane.
“Salina, I think you’re great, but—”
“How would you know?” she asks, her voice husky. “You haven’t tried me yet. Though I’ve been practically throwing myself at you since Millie and Owen’s wedding.”
Has she? I hadn’t noticed, but by then I’d met Lennix, and every other woman was a stand-in. It never really occurred to me that I wouldn’t get Lennix back when the time was right for us both, so I stayed available. Did I have sex in the ten years we were apart? Of course, I did.
Again. Not a monk.
But no one ever touched that place she staked out in my heart. The girl who chases stars landed on the moon, planted her flag, and I’ve been hers ever since.
“Sal, I’m in a relationship,” I tell her. “It’s complicated and can’t really be public right now, but it’s serious. I’m sorry.”
Her long lashes flick down and she bites into a bitter smile. The attendant comes back through.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Pérez,” she says brightly. “Could I get you something?”
“Vodka,” Salina sighs, giving me a stiff smile. “And keep ’em coming.”
The twins gather around a huge cake, sloppily cutting chunks for everyone with a plastic knife. Several kids their age laugh, spreading frosting everywhere, and you’d barely know anything was amiss, if it wasn’t for the strained, forced gaiety of their mother. Millie’s trying so hard, but I know her. I see her pulling at the seams.
Within the hour, floodlights illuminate a line of large tents housing all the children from the party. I got a few minutes with each of the twins, and they seem to be doing well, considering. The young are most resilient. I haven’t had any time alone with Millie, though, and I need to head back to Philly and get at least some sleep before we board that bus for Pittsburgh tomorrow. And three other cities that I can’t recall right now.
“I remember when they were born,” my mother says, tears in her eyes when we walk back into the house. “And now they’re eight. Owen didn’t get to see . . .”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and squeeze her close. She’s been on the verge of tears all day, holding it together for the sake of Darcy and Elijah, but she’s fraying.
“I think he sees,” Salina says, taking Mom’s hand. “It’s been a long day. Let me walk you to your room, Mrs. C.”
Mom nods, her mouth working, but releasing no sound. She looks at me and the tears stream over her powdered cheeks. I stare back helplessly. Is she wishing Owen was standing here instead of me? Probably. Most days, so do I. He had the family, the following, someone to live for besides himself. I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat to spare Millie the torture lurking behind the blue eyes that used to be so lively.
Mom reaches up and touches my face. “I’m proud of you, Maxim. You were always such a good boy. You just never knew it.” Her smile is shaky, her eyes bright with tears. “Owen knew, though. He always saw how good you were. Tried to tell your father. He’d be so happy that the two of you have made things right.”
Have we? If Dad keeps meddling in my life with stunts like he pulled with Salina, things won’t be right.
“Love you, Mom.” I bend to kiss her cheek. “I’ll call from the road.”