Unraveling (Second Chances) - By Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,108

can pretend it’s your fault,” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He chuckled. “That’s not fair.”

I stepped back and made sure my dark blue dress hung the right way. “Ready to meet the she-devil?”

Jared made a face. “No.”

“Too late,” I said, striding past him out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

I pulled on my black heels and coral cardigan.

“You look nice,” Karlie smiled.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my purse and glancing at my watch. “Hurry up, Jared!” I called up the steps. “We’re going to be late and that’ll be a strike against us!”

“I’m coming,” he groaned.

His dress shoes clacked against the hardwood floors. He had left his suit jacket hanging open.

“Let’s get this over with,” he opened the door.

“Have fun,” Karlie called.

“We won’t,” I laughed, closing the door behind us.

I looked at Jared’s Toyota and then my Cadillac. “We’ll take my car,” I said.

“I figured,” Jared put his hands on his hips. “Want me to drive?”

“Nah,” I shook my head. “I better do it. They won’t recognize you.”

“Of course,” Jared threw his hands in the air before getting in the car.

~***~

The hour long drive to my childhood home was quiet. Jared and I had never spent this much time together not talking. Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward.

The gates surrounding the mansion were open but security checked everyone coming in.

I rolled down the window, waiting for our turn.

A burly man that I was familiar with approached the car.

“Hey Bernie,” I grinned at the man.

“Ms. Katyrina, is that you?” he smiled, his mustache twitching with the sudden movement.

“It is,” I smiled.

“We’ve missed you, it’s been too long,” his voice was gruff from too many cigarettes.

“Aww, I’ve missed you guys too,” I said, referring to the staff.

“Is this your fella?” he leaned into the open window to get a better look at Jared.

“Yes, it is,” I smiled.

Bernie eyed Jared. “You take care of this girl, ya hear me?”

“I hear you, sir,” Jared nodded.

“You know where to park,” Bernie stepped back and motioned me through.

Not many had arrived yet. I’d purposely gotten here early, in the hopes that in turn, I could leave early.

I pulled into the circular driveway, making sure to park where I wouldn’t get blocked in. I knew how crowded these charity brunches could get, and how late they could go. I wanted to avoid both.

Jared got out of the car and looked at the brick mansion. Steps led up to the large wooden door and rose bushes covered the area in front of the house.

“This is where you grew up?” he asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” I looked at the house I had hoped to never see again, once I left. It was a reminder of every painful aspect of my childhood and what had happened with Preston. “I grew up here.”

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Did you ever get lost?”

I sighed, squinting my eyes to better see the house over the glare of the sun. “I wish I could’ve gotten lost.”

Jared picked up on the tone of my voice, and said, “Kitten, we can leave. Just get in the car and we’ll go.”

“I can’t do that,” I shook my head and turned around to face him. “That would be the cowardly way out. I’m done being that way.”

“Okay, then,” he smacked his palm against the hood of the car. “It’s time you introduced me to mommy dearest.”

I laughed and took his outstretched hand. “Thanks for doing this,” I looked up at him and warm brown eyes met mine.

“I would do anything for you, Katy. You don’t need to thank me,” he brought my hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I love you and when you love someone, you’re there for them no matter what. Even if it means if you have to do something unpleasant.”

“And this will be very unpleasant,” I said, leading him around to the side of the house.

A woman stood with a clipboard and a headset in her ear, checking off names.

I strode past her and she called out to us. I turned around, glaring at her.

“What’s your name?” she asked, pen poised above the piece of paper clipped to her board.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Katyrina Spencer, Cynthia Spencer’s daughter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking ashamed. “And you are?” she asked Jared.

“He’s my plus one,” I snapped, grabbing his hand. “Any more questions?”

“No, sorry,” she backed away, preparing for the group behind us.

Jared and I entered under the trellis. No matter what the time of

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