THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) (3 page)

I sighed another shaky breath of relief, but the worst wasn’t over. We spent the next fifteen minutes making small talk to pass the time. After Blake told my mom how he’d found out I was in Boise, he offered to go the cafeteria and bring back some coffee. Exhausted and drained, we were grateful.

“Mom, Blake called his sister last night, and she did some research. According to her colleagues at Cedars, Dr. Kumar is top notch. Dad’s in good hands.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Blake is such a good man,” my mother murmured. “And he adores you, my sweet girl.”

A small smile flickered on my lips. “Yeah, Mom. I’m so lucky to have him. In many ways, he reminds me of Dad.”

She smiled back. It was the first time I’d seen her smile since the accident.

Blake returned shortly with the coffee. Not the best I’d ever had, but the strong bitterish brew instantly seeped into my veins and revitalized me. After a few sips, a clamor outside the room caught my attention. My eyes flew to the door. It was my father. Still hooked up to a portable IV unit, he was being wheeled back in. Holding a clipboard, the young doctor, who I’d met last night, accompanied the attendants and a nurse. With butterflies in my stomach, I watched as they reattached him to all the beeping machines.

I stood up and treaded to his bedside. Though the oxygen mask was off and he seemed to be breathing evenly on his own, his eyes were still shut. A light layer of graying stubble lined his peaceful face. My mother joined me. Her lips quivered as the nurse hooked him up to the last of the monitors. I squeezed her hand as Blake hovered behind me.

“Mrs. McCoy,” began the doctor.

“Yes?” responded my mother, her voice trembling.

“I have good news for you and your daughter.”

My rapidly beating heart was already dancing.

“The MRI shows the swelling in his brain has gone down. There’s no permanent damage.”

“Oh, dear Lord. Thank you!” Bursting into tears, my mother hugged the doctor. Whatever prayers she said must have worked. Tears of relief flooded my eyes too. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, Blake kissed the top of my head.

“When will he wake up?” I asked the doctor, leaning into Blake’s hard body.

“It could be in a few minutes. Or in a few hours. Whenever he does, be sure to give him a little water.” From the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse refill his plastic water cup on the nightstand next to his bed.

The doctor and his team excused themselves after telling us they’d be back later to check up on my dad. We returned to our seating positions, all keeping a vigilant watch on him. I gripped Blake’s hand.

“Mom, I need to tell you something.”

Her gaze shifted to me. A small smile played on her face, and serenity now filled her tired eyes. “What, honey?”

“On our way here, Blake and I had a discussion. We’ve decided to call off the wedding.”

“Over my dead body, young lady.”

The voice was a hoarse whisper but unmistakable. Dad!

He was awake and talking!

“Oh, Dad!” I ran over to his bed and kissed him, gushing with happiness.

My speechless, teary-eyed mother leapt up from her chair and caressed his face. “Oh, darling!” With the push of a button, she raised the bed just a smidgeon and lovingly held the cup of water to his lips.

“But Dad,” I contested as he took a small sip through the straw. “You may not be well enough in time for the wedding.”

“My Jennie, I have every intention of walking you down the aisle.” He turned his bandaged head toward Blake. “And you, son, better be sure she’s there.”

“Yes, sir.” They exchanged a conspiratorial wink.

My heart swelled with love for the two men I loved most in my life.

My beloved dad. And my soon-to-be husband.

Blake

K
nowing Jen’s dad was going to be okay, I flew back to LA the next day. I had too much shit to take care of at work. Heading up a porn network came with its share of hard-ons and hardships. Jen, however, decided to remain in Boise until her father was released from the hospital later in the week. He was going home but would need a lot of physical therapy—especially since he so intent on walking Jen down the aisle. I fucking loved this man.

I missed my tiger and was distracted. A weight hung over my head like a ticking time bomb. I still hadn’t told Jen the truth about what had happened between Kat and me at the end of high school. I just couldn’t break the news to her in Boise with what had happened to her father. I was certain it would make her an emotional wreck and dredge up all her trust issues. And knowing how Jen often overreacted, she might even call off the wedding—and break her father’s heart and her mother’s. And, last but not least, mine.

Every ring of my phone, ping in my mailbox, or ding of a text made my nerves zing with anxiety and apprehension. At any time, I was expecting to hear from a hysterical Jen. That Kat had gotten to her. That she knew. But each time we spoke or texted, which was often, not one mention of Kat. I took one day at a time. Maybe, Kat hadn’t been lying that afternoon at Saks and had no intention of sharing our past any further with Jen. I just couldn’t be sure—she was a psycho bitch—and there was nothing I could do to stop her.

On Thursday, I had my weekly evening chat with my dad. True to fashion, we sat outside on my terrace and caught up over fine cigars and brandy. Unlike chilly Boise, the early November Los Angeles air was still balmy. Darkness, however, was descending.

“How’s Jennifer’s father doing?” asked my old man, after pouring the brandies.

I’d told my parents what had happen. Both were genuinely heartbroken and had not only called Mrs. McCoy but had also sent an array of exotic get-well flowers to his room that must have cost a small fortune. I filled my father in on the latest—that Harold had been released from the hospital and was determined to walk his little girl down the aisle.

My father chuckled and took another puff of his Cuban cigar. He blew out a curl of smoke. It faded into the night air. “I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything your mother and I can do to help, just let us know.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled. My billionaire parents were generous to a fault.

We imbibed our brandies in unison. My dad set his tumbler down on the round table between us. “So, how’s the wedding shaping up?”

My father hadn’t been involved. It was my mother’s thing and he gave her total control. Not wanting to create any kind of friction between my parents, I hadn’t told him about the issues we had with Enid and Katrina. Fucking Kat. The velvety brandy seeped through my veins and warmed me. It had been a stressful week, but now I was loosened up. The urge to tell my Dad about Kat’s antics burnt my tongue and the words tumbled out. My father listened intently, his lips pressed into a thin grim line. He plunked his tumbler down on the table again—this time with a loud, angry bang.

“You should have had security arrest her,” he grumbled when I finished relaying the Saks incident. “She’s pure trouble, that girl.” Dad had never liked or trusted Kat despite the friendship between her mother and mine.

“Yeah, I should have.” I took another sip of my brandy. “Dad, could you talk to Mom and try to get Kat out of our lives?”

My father flicked a thick layer of ashes into the Baccarat ashtray on the table. “Son, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’ll blow up in our faces. That crazy girl might go to the tabloids, and that’s the last thing we all need.”

My wise old man hated negative publicity. It wasn’t good for our family or the company. Fortunately, the incident was handled in a way that had kept it out of the press all these years. I sucked in a deep breath. There was more than just negative publicity at stake.

“Dad, what if she tells Jennifer?”

My father’s steel-gray eyes narrowed as he furrowed his bushy brows. “She doesn’t know?”

I told him how I’d flown to Boise to tell her, but with Jen’s dad’s accident, it just wasn’t the right time. And though Harold was now on the way to recovery, I didn’t want to shake things up by phone or e-mail.

My understanding father nodded his head of silver hair. “When is she coming back?”

“Tomorrow
.” Friday
.

“Skip Shabbat and take her out for a nice dinner. She’s got to hear it from you. Don’t waste any time.”

My stomach twisted. Just as fast as my tiger had walked into my heart, just as fast she could walk out. “What if she—”

My father cut me short. “Blake, no amount of guilt can solve the past, and no amount of anxiety can change the future.”

My old man’s words of wisdom. I hoped he was right.

*

Friday couldn’t get here soon enough or late enough. As much I coveted Jen in my arms—and in my bed—my stomach was in knots. Tonight, I was going to tell her the truth about my past with Kat. I wasn’t sure how she was going to take it. Yes, the past was the past, and with Jen, I’d turned over a new leaf, but I’d kept it from her. My father had once said, there are two different types of sins: sins of commission and sins of omission. I’d committed both.

We touched base in the morning before she left for the airport. Upon landing, she was going straight to the set of
Bound to You
, the latest erotic romance we were shooting. She’d managed to score Jessica Chastain and Alexander Skarsgård to play the lead roles. I told her I wanted to meet her for dinner and picked a small romantic French restaurant not far from the set. I couldn’t wait to hold her in my arms and fuck her brains out, but I had to get the truth out first. I owed it to her; she had to hear it from me. It was fucking killing me.

Shortly after I made an eight o’clock restaurant reservation, an unexpected e-mail showed up in my inbox. My chest tightened. Balls. It was from Kat and marked
URGENT
in shouty caps in the subject line. Fuck. Had she contacted Jen and told her the story? With apprehension, I opened it.

Dear Blake~

I’m really, really sorry about what happened at Saks last week as well as in Vegas. My behavior was totally out of line, and I would like to make it up to you. I hope you’ll agree to meet me for a quick drink so I can apologize in person. There is also some important wedding detail I’d like to share with you. I’m planning a big surprise for Jennifer and I’d like to get your input. Please don’t let me down. I hope you don’t mind meeting at Greystone at 6:00 as I have dinner plans there immediately following with another client.

Yours~ Kat

My fingers drummed the keyboard while I stared at the e-mail. Should I agree to see her? Hear her out? Had
she
finally turned over a new leaf? Or was this just another ruse? Torn, I finally hit reply, driven by my curiosity to find out what surprise she had in mind for Jennifer. I typed three words:
See you there.
I could spend an hour or so with her and have time enough to meet Jen for dinner. While the bistro I’d chosen was not far from Greystone, traffic in LA on a Friday night was usually brutal, and I didn’t want to be late. In the blink of an eye, Kat replied with a smiley face emoticon.

*

“Good to see you, Mr. Burns,” said the flirty mini-skirted blond hostess, who stood by the entrance to Greystone Manor. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

The truth, though I still had a membership, I hadn’t been back to the trendy club since the Conquest Broadcasting Christmas Ball last December. That night I’d fucked my tiger for the first time. Following that unforgettable night, I had no need for my fuck pad. I made a mental note to give it up permanently.

I told the attractive hostess I was here to meet Kat Moore. Smiling, she told me she was already here and led me through the uncrowded club (which wouldn’t start filling up until much later). She deliberately swayed her hips. While her sexy walk got my attention, it didn’t turn me on. I might still be a looker, but only one woman aroused me.

A big toothy smile flashed on Kat’s face when she caught sight of me. She was seated at my regular table in the corner. There were plenty of empty tables in the vast club at this hour, but she’d chosen this one. An uneasy feeling settled in me. I was having second thoughts. Maybe agreeing to meet her here was a bad idea.