My mother wanted to go out for lunch, just the two of us girls. It had been a while since we'd gotten any alone time. The betrayal and engagement were a fresh wound, leaving us distant. But Tuesday afternoon when she called me up and asked to take me out, I found myself indulging her.
This strife between my parents and me was hard to navigate. I loved my parents. Being on the outs with them felt foreign, especially given my father's health. As I sat across from my mother at our favorite brunch spot, the one on Townsend Boulevard where all the best shopping was located, I felt my heart throb at what was. They had never disappointed me as much as they had now with this marriage arrangement.
I thought if Cain wasn't so horrible, instead a well-meaning, awkward heir, then perhaps I could've seen the harmlessness in their insisting I marry the man. But no. Cain wasn't any of those things. Confident. Poised. Quiet. Enigmatic. Cain could only be summed up so succinctly.
My mother didn't share the same diet as I did, but for brunch at The Cabana Lounge, we shared a vegetarian cobb salad. She limited herself to one mimosa since she was driving instead of having one of her and my father's drivers drive for us.
Mimosas were okay, but I opted for the Cabana's house fresh juice. A fruity blend of guava, pineapple, mango, and orange. It was delicious.
"Ugh." My mother suddenly breathed out as we continued to eat from our large salad. "I'm so glad we did this, you know? I needed this, Kenn."
I lifted my attention from poking at an avocado. My mother was opening up to me, peeling back a layer of her perfection to reveal her true state: exhausted, nervous—scared.
"It's been a long, lonnng, year," she went on, bobbing her head as she looked off absentmindedly. "And your father..." She shook her head, her brows furrowing at the thought of my father. "He's a trooper, I'll give him that. I just wish he wouldn't fight me. I only want to help."
That sounded like my father. He was a man's man, from an era where men didn't show weakness and were taught to be resilient and strong. Allowing himself to be taken care of by health officials was hard enough, letting my mother see him wince and moan was another thing. I just wished he knew that we loved him and didn't think less of him in his condition. That we admired him for his strength and fight.
Strangely, just then, Keith came to mind. Something about him, reminded me of my father. He was a man's man, too, and I could imagine he wouldn't let me see him "weak" either.
I thought of the way he admitted he was sensitive and managed to smile. That took courage.
"It's good to get away," I said as I came back to my mother. "I think we've all been pretty consumed with Daddy's diagnosis and hoping for a miracle, that it's nice to step outside and just breathe."
My mother was quick to agree. "I just feel like we're finally adjusted, you know? We've got a good team looking after him, he still can run his businesses with Phil, and Irene is just great. I gotta get back on the ball. I'm so behind on the charity events around here. I've never been out of the loop on that. Never."
My mother was very philanthropic. One of her passions was organizing charity events and donating money to noble causes. I liked to think that she was where I got my heart from. Some people in Hampton Hills were snobby, turning their noses up on anyone from a household that didn't bring in over a million a year. Not Angela Nichols. She hadn't come from a humble beginning, giving her a direct link to understanding the working class, but she was very much human.
"You've had your hands full, it's understandable," I reasoned.
"That I have," my mother said as she picked up her mimosa and took a sip. She didn't take time to reflect on her next few words. She said them as if they required little to no thought at all. "Sometimes I wish I could trade places with him."
A heart sank as tears threatened to pool in my eyes. "Mom."
She waved me off, smiling a little at my emotion. "I love that man. When we got married, we became one. I'm not sure I ever want to see a day where I'm just a half."
"You won't." My voice cracked and I blinked to get my vision straight.
My mother reached out and dabbed at my eyes. Her gentle touch was all I needed to feel okay and safe.
"Hey, we're not here to cry and ruin our faces," she joked.
We were out on the town, but I wasn't wearing makeup. My hair was even pulled up in a ponytail. But swollen red eyes was a look I wasn't going for.
I pulled myself together and ate another forkful of salad. "You're right. This salad is so good. I think I might order a soup for a side."
As I gave The Cabana Lounge's menu a quick browse, I was suddenly stumped between the salmon soup or...
"Do you like grits?" I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I asked my mother the silly question. "I had some recently, and I love them."
Keith had us make the pan of grits plain so that I could choose my own recipe for how I liked them. In the end, like a little kid following their older sibling, I copied how he made his bowl and decided that was how I liked mine as well. Salt and pepper, a dash of sugar, butter, and shredded cheddar cheese. Between the grits and his introduction to apple butter, I now had true incentive to make breakfast at home now that I could cook something.
My mother peered down at her menu and shook her head. "Don't think I've ever had grits before." She glanced back at me. "Don't eat too much, your father and I scheduled a cake tasting for later. We can go after we leave here. We just want to get everything squared away."
Just like that, my mood dropped.
I set my menu aside and focused back on the salad, barely tasting it now.
"He misses you," my mother said gently. "He really does, Kenn. This whole thing has been hard on all of us, and I won't lie, I was mad at first about this marriage, too. You're our only child, and we shouldn't put this on you."
"So don't," I spoke up.
We both knew there was no pulling the plug, even at this early stage in my journey down the aisle.
"I wish it could be that simple. I really do," my mother said. She sat back, defeated in her own way. "Don't get me started on Cain. When Damon first brought this up, I thought he'd lost his mind. That he was really trying to marry you off to some...creep. But then, as I come around Cain...I kinda feel sorry for him. His father—James was an awful, awful man."
That I couldn't deny, even if I didn't care for Cain himself. Hearing how he'd abused Cain's mother in front of him when he was a little boy was heartbreaking. Being raised in secret had to of been painful enough on its own.
My mother came back to the table and forked her salad. "I think he just wants a family. And I can't blame him, he has no mother or father."
I was tempted to play the tiniest violin, but I was good. "Why don't you and Daddy adopt him? I'd rather have a brother than a husband."
To that my mother managed to snort as she ate more of her salad. But then she was serious as she regarded me thoughtfully. "You're seeing someone else."
Four simple words sent my throat closing up on me. "E-Excuse me?"
My mother measured me out. "You were glowing. You looked beautiful—you are beautiful. The first thing I noticed when you got into the car was how radiant you looked. I thought you and Cain finally figured each other out, but just now when I mentioned the wedding your mood dropped."
I scoffed. "I can't be 'glowing' because I'm happy?"
My mother smirked, calling me out. She went back to her mimosa. "I won't say anything."
Her discretion caused me to lower my guard. "No?"
She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "Make sure you end it before you get married."
Stiffly, I nodded, already having accepted my fate with Keith. "I know."
Her hand covered mine and squeezed. "I don't want this for you. I keep hoping Damon will come to his senses. You deserve to be happy and make your own choices with your love life. Whether we like Cain or not."
They liked Cain. He'd finagled his way into my parents' graces, despite our sham engagement.
I looked around the vicinity. We were seated on the outdoor veranda. A few older couples were nearby, as well as a lone businesswoman reading the newspaper, and a man tapping away on a MacBook. The world around us was going on and I just had to get a move on to flow with it.
"Maybe...I'll learn to like Cain." I wouldn't. I wasn't a romantic. Never stressed having the proverbial "fairy tale," but I would never get over the way Cain came into my life. We would never be a love story. He acquired me. There was no prettying that up.
"Maybe we should get together with the girls and reach out to LeChé. She's impossible to get a hold of in the winter, so it's best to book her now in advance," my mother brought up next.
LeChé Harris was a renown wedding dress designer. She had a shop in Hampton Hills, though she herself was often away on call. Only the best worked at LeChé's boutique, but if you wanted the signature LeChé wedding gown, you went to her directly.
Hampton Hills was full of places to shop, exclusive dining, esteemed businesses, and beyond all that capitalism could ever dream of, there were the pristine homes. It was a city that rarely slept. As everyone was constantly on the clock to keep up with their lifestyles. It wasn't a surprise LeChé was booked so far out. If I wanted to get my hands on the best dress for my wedding, I needed to get a hold of her now.
I'd always had a dream wedding dress in mind for the day I walked down the aisle. Something classic and royal. Off-the-shoulder with an extravagant cathedral train. Maybe off-white, or nude, instead of the traditional white.
It had been a dream of mine ever since I was a little girl and had the biggest collection of Black Barbie dolls.
Cain was the furthest thing I'd ever pictured for my groom.
"Yeah," I said bitterly. "We should get on that."
We finished most of our salad and then we only had to walk further up Townsend Boulevard to the bakery. Right away I felt my lunch threatening to come back up as I spotted the closed for special party sign on the front door.
"Kennedy?"
A young voice reached my ear and turned me around to see a couple of teenage girls approaching me. By the Guess bags in their hands I could see they were on a shopping venture.
One girl with lavender box braids had her mouth open, exposing teeth covered in braces.
Her friend with Bantu knots managed to hold her composure as she shyly waved at me.
"Can I have a picture?" the one with the braids asked. "I follow you on Instagram. You're so pretty. Oh my God."
While I didn't think I was worthy of "fans," I never turned down a photo. When I'd done a brand deal with an upcoming urban cosmetics line, it had sold out in hours thanks to my loyal following. People were nice enough to support me, and the least I could do was smile for a camera to make someone's day.
My mother played photographer as I stood in between the two girls and pasted on a fake smile that said I was the luckiest girl in the world.
They bought it.
Only when they were long down the sidewalk did I let my mask slip and my true misery take over.
"Your father made sure we had the shop to ourselves as you picked out the flavor you wanted," my mother clued me in as we approached the front door to Piece of Cake!
Smart.
Going out with Cain was a nightmare when it came to the media. Thank God I didn't see any nosey journalist around.
We entered the shop and right away the owner, Michele, greeted us with a warm smile.
"Hello! Party for Nichols, right?" her cheery face made me feel terrible for my mood.
She'd made a thing of this event. On a series of tables were platters of cake wedges. Craning my neck, I could see cards placed before each plate to illustrate the flavor. There were colorful flowers arranged and set up, as well as a sign reading Welcome Kennedy & Cain!
I didn't think I could eat a bite.
Behind us, the shop's door opened and in walked my fiancé. More, he held the door open and my father was soon wheeling himself in on an electric wheelchair.
Daddy.
This was the first time I'd seen him outside of the house since walking became a challenge for him.
Immediately I rushed over to him at the same time my mother did.
"What are you doing?" I demanded to know as I shooed Cain away.
My father sat dressed in a fine suit, happy to see me and my mother. He used the chair's controller to wheel himself more into the shop. The grin on his face was such a rarity, I thought I'd cry.
"I was at the office. Wanted to see how things are going with the blueprints. Wanted to feel useful. Alive," my father stated simply. He turned the chair and eyed Cain. "And then I mentioned the cake tasting to Cain, and he insisted we come. Said I can't dedicate my life to hotels, not when an important moment is happening for my daughter."
My mother looked on at Cain, glassy eyed. He remained neutral as he stood back by the entrance. Outside, beyond him, I could see Beans and Vino keeping look out.
Thank you, my mother mouthed to Cain.
He tipped his head towards her and kept quiet. We'd been trying to get my father to leave his bed for months, and he seemed content on staying there. As much as I hated Cain, I was grateful for him in that moment.
"So, who's ready to eat some cake?" my father asked jubilantly.
My mother patted her middle. "None for me, I'm watching my figure."
"Hey!" my father snapped loudly in a commanding voice. "That's my job."
My mother laughed and shushed my father. He wheeled further into the bakery over to Michele to introduce our party and my mother wasn't far behind.
I kept back with Cain. Unable to process it all.
He turned so that his whole body was facing me, somehow managing to block out our surroundings entirely. "He needs this. To feel something other than his own pity."
Cain was right. It was important my father live his life. To leave the confines of his bedroom and be out in the world. He couldn't let ALS have him. He couldn't let the disease win.
To think, all it took was this heinous man to get him to see that.
I ducked my head. "Thank you, for doing this, Cain."
"Don't mention it." Cain peered past us. "Well, let's eat some cake."
Michele came and greeted the two of us, shaking our hands and complimenting how "nice" we looked together. I played my part and smiled and clung close to Cain to appear as in love as the world thought we were.
My parents kept their distance as they settled at a table on the far side of the room and sampled different cakes while Cain and I sat together at a table browsing cake wedges. The spread was lovely, as Michele had model cakes set up to show her skills as a baker. I always admired gorgeous gourmet cake tiers, but at the same time, I always felt guilty for ruining such works of art.
To my surprise, Cain seemed to be enjoying the dessert as he tried a slice of several cakes.
"Sweet tooth?" I wondered.
He nodded, smiling a little. "Oh yeah. It's my one weakness."
"What's your favorite?"
My eyes were deceiving me, or Cain was...blushing. He peeked back at me. "Honeybuns."
Honeybuns. The name was familiar. "Not sure I've ever had one."
Cain shook his head and cut into a slice of vanilla bean cake with triple mousse icing. "Delicacy."
I was curious, but I said no more as I dug into my own cake. Lemon coconut cake with lemon curd and French vanilla filling. It was amazing. "Do you like the lemon coconut one?"
Cain wrinkled his nose and eyed my cake. "Not a fan of coconut."
"No?"
"Reminds me of fingernails," Cain said as he made a claw with his hand.
Interesting. At that, I perked up. "I think I found the cake I want for our wedding."
Cain met my grin with a raised brow. "Okay."
He wasn't going to put up a fight. Completely ruining my fun. "Which one do you like the most?"
Cain took his cloth and wiped at his mouth before taking a drink of water Michele provided for us in wine glasses. "The almond cake."
That was my second favorite. It had raspberry filling and French vanilla icing.
"What are we going to serve our guests to eat besides the cake?" I pressed next.
Cain sat up, turning and facing me. He tapped his finger on the table, thinking deeply. "Salmon alla Griglia for one entree option, and either grilled chicken or steak for the second."
It was like he had an answer for everything. I hated it. The thought of this wedding and marriage being very much real made me sick to my stomach.
I fingered the white tabletop before us. "All right."
Cain returned to his cake, and it really was a wonder watching him eat. He'd try a new flavor and smile to himself at the taste. Something that wasn't a big deal to me, was a lot to him. He'd never experienced a life of having an open channel for desserts before, making me question his foster parents and their approach to his diet. He sat beside me a tall and lean man, muscular, but not too much.
"Was your time in foster care all bad?" I asked.
Cain cut into a slice of red velvet cake, my least favorite due to how rich it often was. "Yes."
I wasn't a cruel person. I didn't have it in me to not feel horrible for how he'd grown up and what he'd gone through.
"The best home I stayed at was only for a night, and then the rest were different versions of hell." He suddenly shrugged as if it were not a big deal. "But don't feel bad, it motivated me in a lot of ways. I grew from the experience."
"I feel like you'd benefit if you talked to someone, expressed yourself openly and honestly," I said softly, trying to be gentle so he wouldn't lash out.
Cain's gaze cut to me. "Don't ask me questions if you're just going to analyze me."
I should've backed down, but I couldn't let him walk all over me. I couldn't let him win. "That's what marriage is, Cain. Knowing your spouse through and through. We're literally strangers to each other."
"You come from a castle, and I come from the very bottom," Cain pointed out. "You've never had to do the things I have to survive. Your parents loved and tucked you in. I was born in secret and treated like a mistake. You can't handle my truth, and I'd rather spare you the details than have your pity."
I didn't mean to pity him. His turnaround was legendary, overcoming his adversity and becoming one of the richest men in the West was a story of a champion. But there was no mistaking the fact that he wasn't happy. That something was missing behind his eyes. Whatever that was, I couldn't fill that void. He deserved true love, someone who wanted him, the good, the bad, and all the ugly. And that just wasn't me.
"Cain," I started, trying to stay calm and not have a panic attack. "What if...we didn't get married? What if we just became friends and got to know each other? Who knows, you might not even like me in the end."
Cain took my hand, going and adjusting his ring I was wearing. He lifted his eyes to mine. "If I say yes, then what?"
I couldn't believe he was considering it. That he'd give me an out. "Then we'll be friends. Best friends if you want."
A corner of his lips quirked up. But then he was shaking his head. "I say yes, and then you play along for who knows how long before you suddenly meet someone else? And then I'm left with nothing, but a best friend?
"I left my last ex because I found out she was trying to get pregnant. I lost trust." He ran his thumbs over my knuckles. His soft touch always such a paradox to who he was as a person. "I'd hate to lose my trust in you, Kennedy."
"Y-You trust me?" Surprise filled my voice at the revelation.
Cain nodded once. "Every day I don't receive a phone call from one of my friends at the HHPD, I'm a little more impressed with you. Do I know everything about you? No, but I like what I see and know so far. I'm anticipating the rest." He scooted closer. "So stop trying to get out of this marriage, because it's happening, Wife."
The finality in his words let me know there was no escaping him. His admission to having friends at the local police station let me know there was no stopping his wrath. No calling for help. There was no way out.
Cain Carter really owned me.
He reached into his pocket and procured those familiar clear red dice. "Let's just see how the dice roll, okay?"
"Okay," I accepted.
For show, Cain released the dice onto the table with a subtle flick of his wrist.
He hadn't even tried and he'd rolled a seven.