Third Date (16 page)

“Anything.”

“Please don't tell anyone yet, not even Lynn. I don't want Layne to find out in some twisted six degrees of separation kind of way.”

Gina's lips sealed tight, her fingers locking them closed, and tossing the figurative key out the window.

I couldn't stop the laugh from pressing my lungs and bubbling out. Both of us were tearing with laughter as we pulled up to my house. And it felt good, good to be with a friend who looked at the whole situation from outside the box.

“I'll call you later, alright?” Gina eyed my face, arching a brow.

“Sure, talk to ya later.”

Layne

W
aiting outside the door, I rang the doorbell a second time. The gentle thump of feet started to close in.

“Who is it?” Kinsley's sweet voice sounded from behind the thick wood.

“It's Prince Charming,” I said with a throaty growl.

No sounds crept through the wood, no voices, or murmurs. Knocking gently, I said, “It's Layne, are you going to open the door?”

The metal clank of the lock hit my ears, the door slowly opening to reveal her confused, but beautiful, face. “What are you doing here?” Tight crinkles framed her eyes, sprawling out from the corners.

A piece of me was tempted to smooth them out, draw my finger over her lids and wash away any thoughts that might be fluttering through her mind.

“Well, I have a date today. I tried to call you, but you just kept ignoring me.”

Arching a brow, she answered me like I was losing my mind. “Layne, I told you I was done with the dates.”

A devious smile spread across my face, lifting from ear to ear. “The date's not with you.” Cocking her head, she stared at me under hooded lids. “I'm here for the tea party.”

Fay's loud feet stampeded down the hall, her giant smiling face exploding from around the corner with a squeal. “You came! You came!”

Shifting her gaze between us, Kinsley held her hand up. “Wait, what's going on?”

Side stepping around Kinsley, I held a hand behind my back, and bowed to the hostess. “I was invited for a tea party, and I never break a promise.”

“Tea party?”
Kinsley asked, confusion layering her tone.

Fay jumped up and down, her hair flopping into her face and covering her eyes. “Mattress man, I'm so excited! I have a few friends on their way, oh wait...” Her eyes floated down the hall, hand cupping her ear. “I think they just got here. Come on! Come on!”

Fay waved her hand frantically, darting behind the wall, and disappearing. Her feet echoed as she ran, then halted altogether when she reached her room.

Grinning, I flicked my eyes to Kinsley. “I'm glad I'm not late.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she pulled in a deep breath. “Did you really show up here for a tea party?”

Nodding my head, I pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind my back. Plucking a long red rose from the bunch, I handed it to Kinsley. “This is for you, the others are for the tea party.” Winking, I held my arm out and asked, “May I?”

I watched her eyes twinkle with something that burst at the seams. Kinsley looked so happy in that moment, so blown away, and so...

Thankful.

Pinching her chin, her lip arched on the corner. “I can't believe you actually showed up for a tea party. I was wondering what the giant star on Fay's calendar was for.”

“I'll ask the hostess if you can join us too, if you'd like?” Trailing my thumb across her elbow, I drew small circles. “I would love to have you there.”

“Let me check my schedule, I might be having lunch with Bugs Bunny.” Giggling, she pretended to flip through an imaginary itinerary. “Nope, that's tomorrow, looks like I'm free.”

Fay's head popped out from behind the wall. “Come on, the tea party is ready. And the guests are starting to get querulous.” Disappearing again, her feet patted into the distance.

“Querulous?”
I asked, tilting my head.

Kinsley rolled her eyes, waving her hand in dismissal. “My mom, she fills her head with words I don't even understand.” Flapping her fingers to urge me forward, she said, “Come on, let's go, we can't be late.”

For the next hour I sat in the tiniest chair ever, pounding back 'watermelon tea,' which was really just water. We also talked in horribly fake British accents, referring to each other as Madame, or Reginald.

That was Fay's idea, and what an incredible imagination that child had. I shook every hand of the other guests, all ten stuffed animals, and asked for more lumps of sugar in a single glass than I think the Queen of England has had in her life.

All we needed were some crumpets, and tiny finger sandwiches, and it would have blown any royal luncheon out of the park.

Through the whole party, Kinsley kept giving me these sappy mom eyes, eating up the excitement from her baby, and the happiness she felt right in that moment.

But I can't lie, I was beyond happy to make that little girl beam from ear to ear. I don't know why I felt this tug on the heart strings for Fay, but watching her light up made the rest of the world's problems seem so unimportant.

“Layne, this was really sweet. Thank you.” Kinsley nudged me with her shoulder, as Fay started to clear all the guests from the table by throwing them so lovingly onto her bed.

That explains the ratty bear.

“It's nothing, it's not everyday you get invited to a royal tea party. How could I pass it up?”

Glancing at her daughter, Kinsley gave her the last tasks to clean up. “Okay, I'm going to walk Layne out.”

“Layne? I thought his name was mattress man?” Tossing me a very serious look, her small hands fell to her hips.

I tried not to chuckle, but the old saying,
'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree,'
really sank in at that very moment.

“My real name is Layne, but you can call me whatever you want.”

“Good. I don't like that name, can I make up a name for you instead?”

“Sure, what do ya got?”

Tapping her chin, Fay circled me, eyeing me up and down. “Hmm,” she mumbled. “I got it, I'm going to call you Dilby.”

“Dilby, huh?” Fay nodded excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, Dilby it is. Does this mean I can give you a name too?” Shaking her head yes, she teetered in place, hands cupped together.”Okay, your new name is... Bo.”

“Bo? Why Bo?” she asked, scrunching her nose, and wiggling her face.

“Because you have a button nose, and you bounce around a lot.”

“Bo... I like it. Thanks for coming, Dilby!” Fay threw her arms up, and let herself fall back onto her bed. “But now I'm exhausted, tea parties are a lot of work.”

Kinsley stepped to her daughter, and ruffled her head. “Alright, nap if you'd like. I don't mind because tonight you're sleeping at Memeré's.”

Following Kinsley out of Fay's room, I watched her hips sway, the smooth kick hardening my cock. She looked so damn sexy, the yoga pants hugged her curves, the tank-top clung to her skin and etched out every dip and contour.

My fingers tensed by my side, eagerly scratching at my thigh for freedom to stroke her bare shoulder, caress the tender area at the base of her neck. And now that my family had finally made contact, I didn't feel this need to keep her at arms length.

There was still a resistance settling in my chest, but it felt more like trying to break an old habit. So much of my time had gone into keeping people away, that willingly letting someone in just felt odd.

But a new found freedom stained my veins, turning  me from a stone wall into a penetrable object. I didn't have to travel around the world to find my family, they were already here, and I was going to have the chance to meet them.

There was no need to hold back anymore.

If I could convince her to go on one last date, I was planning on telling Kinsley how I felt. She needed to know my reasons, she needed to hear what I had been through and why not getting involved had been so important.

“You, uh, you want to stay for a glass of
real tea?”
She asked, fumbling with her bottom lip. Her arms were hugging her sides, eyes scanning my face.

“I have a few spare minutes, the polo game isn't for another hour.” Smirking, I plopped down onto the solid blue sofa.

Kinsley's lip turned up, tugging out a half smile. “Alright,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen. The sounds of rummaging through the cupboard, and opening the fridge made their way out into the living room.

Running my hands over the fabric, it didn't feel as soft as I expected. There was a layer of crust over the arm, sticky stains speckled the cushion, and deep tracks of what looked like purple marker streaked across the top.

Hmm, didn't notice that before.

Stepping back in, Kinsley shook her head. “Don't mind the couch. I need a new one, but I promised myself I would wait until Fay was well past the creative child age.” Sitting down next to me, she passed me a glass of tea.

We were so close I could feel her warmth, and smell the light scent of garden flowers on her clothes. Her skin held a dewy glaze that called on me to taste her flavor, see if she was more sweet or salty.

I bet she's just pure delicious.

Pointing a finger at the dark spots, I asked, “So what's this?”

“Juice, and probably some ketchup, or syrup in there too.”

“And this?” Resting a finger on the edge of the arm where the color was an obvious shade of navy, unlike the soft blue it should be.

“That's most likely... Tiny grimy hands, and definitely snot.” Covering her mouth with her hand, Kinsley laughed as I made a gross face, sticking out my tongue, and grunting. “I'm kidding—mostly. To be honest, I don't really know what the hell that is. But I swear, Fay just gravitates to dirt and disgusting germs.”

Her face was glowing today, the normal delicate ivory was tinted in a pastel pink. Kinsley looked liked the sun had kissed her cheeks, and left its mark. Her foot tapped the floor in a hurried beat. A new tick I hadn't picked up on before.

Flashing a tight smile, her nail made tinking noises across the glass. “Oh, I wanted to tell you that Fay's bed has smelled as fresh as a hot towel straight from the dryer. You really need to teach me your trick, if you haven't noticed the state of my sofa.”

“I learned it a long time ago, from a woman named Ella. Ella Springfield, one of my foster mothers.” Waiting for her to cringe, or brows to shift, she surprised me by staying steady.

“Well, she must have needed a remedy like that if she had foster kids. You didn't stay there with her?”

Shaking my head, I stared at the glass in my hand. “No, I never stayed anywhere for very long.” Swallowing hard, I waited for the nervous lump to clear my throat.

It felt strange to bare a piece of myself to someone else, it had been taboo for me to even let memories cross my mind about how I grew up. Just letting that small snippet hang between us, it was surreal.

My past had always been my secret, the life I lived had been one I wasn't proud of. Family after family took their turn with me, never taking the final leap of adoption. I was never really too sure why, but my mind always went back to the fact that something must have been wrong with me.

A baby given up at birth, and never adopted... That was hardly heard of.

Most of the time the kids that went full string in the homes and kicked out at eighteen, were the ones who came in later in life. They were troubled youth, who after years of abuse and neglect, didn't give two shits about rules or following orders.

But the babies, they always got grabbed up by a couple, a family, and spared the anguish of never feeling worthless.

After years of bouncing around, I found myself being the one abused, even though all I ever wanted was a family. A family to love me, and show me the way.

It was hard to understand why no one cared about me enough to give me that chance. When I hit twelve, that's when I gave up, that's when I let the outside troubles of the world guide me.

And even that wasn't good to me.

I was happy to know I might finally get some answers, that at least one of my many questions would no longer weigh on my life, or my heart.

It was hard never opening up to anyone, never letting anyone in because you weren't sure of who you were yourself.

“Why are you telling me this? I thought you don't talk about your personal life?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I asked, “I know you got my messages, have you thought about trying one more date?” I wanted to change the subject. A little bit of my past was enough for now, the rest would come in time.

Tapping the glass, her lips perched high. “I have,  and I was actually going to call you about it.”

“And?” I asked, leaning a smidgen closer.

“I'll do it.” Kinsley's shoulders rolled forward, a light smile teasing her lips.

“So what was all that at the door? All the, I told you no more dates?” Arching a brow, wrinkles hit my hairline.

“You took me by surprise, I wasn't expecting you to show up here. And well, after what you did for Fay today, I sorta owe you now... Don't I?”

“No, I didn't do this to try and weasel another date out of you. I did it because I told Fay I would.”

I watched her fingers grip the glass tightly, our eyes freezing on each other. Her big brown stare was burrowing into my core, holding me in place.

Bringing a hand to her face, I brushed the back of my fingers along her jaw. I couldn't stop myself, it happened so naturally. The need to touch her had been so strong, all I wanted was a small sip, a tiny taste to quench my thirst.

“Layne.” Kinsley whispered, her eyes hooking my soul with each blink. “We need to talk.”

“Isn't that what we're doing?” Tracing her collarbone, Kinsley's head fell onto my hand.

“I'm serious,” she spoke low and soft, eyes rolling into the back of the sockets.

Squeezing her shoulder, I let my hand scoop around her back, pressing between her shoulder blades. Her body leaned forward, prickles rising across her skin like small mountains. “Kinsley, I know this whole dating thing hasn't been easy, but I promise it's about to get better.”

My lips hovered above her neck, breathing out slowly, I watched her shiver. “No, that's no—” Brushing my mouth against her ear, I breathed harder, hotter air. A tremble passed between us, her muscles loosening.