Page 104 of Out of the Shadow

Riding back to King’s apartment—I moved in with him because his place is bigger and, honestly, the separation from the office is good for me—we rehash tonight’s dinner. King’s phone rings and the screen on the car’s console indicates it’s Diego.

“Hey there. You’re on speakerphone. I’m driving back from family dinner with Angie.” It doesn’t miss my attention that King’s whole body puffs up as he uses the word “family.” “What’s up?”

“Oh, hi Angie! I can’t wait to meet you in person. I can’t believe I’ll be moving next week.”

I’ve talked with Diego several times over the past month. He’s a smart young man, and I think he’ll do really well at NYU. All of his hard work, plus the internships King has managed to hook him up with throughout the years, have really prepared him for his upcoming challenge. “We’re so excited for you, Diego,” I reply.

“Can’t wait to see you again, buddy. Text me your new address so I’ll have it in my phone.”

“Sure thing. I’m going to own NYU!”

We laugh at his exuberance. Diego tells us all about his course selections and his roommates, whom he’s “met” via social media. “Can’t wait to be back in the same state as you, Little Brother,” King says.

After ending the call, he brings up some of the houses we’ve toured, going through their pros and cons. I respond to him, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m still determined to heal King’s rift with his parents—in as much as it can be healed—but I haven’t pushed him on it. Maybe it’s time.

When he pauses to take a breath, I cross my fingers. This could go either way. “I’m so happy you have a good time with my family.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re awesome. I love your family.” His hand reaches for mine. “Like I love you.”

I twist my wrist and interlace our fingers. Here goes nothing. “I think you could have the same type of relationship with your family.”

Utter silence reigns for a full minute. It’s as if a bomb just exploded. I refuse to say another word until he does. After all, I was the one who tossed the live grenade into the car.

“Angie,” he begins. “You know all about my relationship with my mother and father.”

I squeeze his hand, which remains in mine. Thankfully. “I do. I’ve heard a couple of your conversations with your mother, and I have to agree with you. She’s more into her own life than ensuring yours is going well.”

He nods, his focus on the road, and takes the exit for Aroostook.

“But,” I continue, “your dad’s another story. I saw how he was with you at his concert. You know my thoughts about that interaction.”

He removes his hand from mine.Shit. “He’s into his wife and their daughter. I’m an unwanted reminder of his time with my mother.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I think you should call him and try to keep an open mind. When you want to jump the gun and assume the worst, stop yourself and ask if there may be another side to what he’s saying.”

“No.”

“King—”

“I said no.” He slams his hand on the steering wheel. “Case closed.”

I purse my lips, knowing this is a lost cause. Which doesn’t mean I’m done pushing for it. I look out the window as the scenery becomes increasingly familiar. Swiveling my head toward him, I say, “I want you to be happy.”

He blows a breath through his mouth. “I am, Angie. With you and your family. I’ve never been happier. Can we please drop the whole thing with my family? They’ve dropped me.”

I nod my head in acquiescence. I’ll do as he asks. Not forever, but for now.

King

OTHER THAN REHASHINGmy shitty relationship with my parents, today was a perfect day. The acceptance by Angie’s family is more than I ever could’ve hoped for. Still, Angie’s thought about Dad won’t leave my mind, and it’s hard to shake off my funk as we walk past the reception desk in our building. I wave. “Hey, Jerry!”

“King. Angie. So great to see you this fine Saturday evening. Enjoy your night.”

Both of us smile at him and continue up to our apartment. With our combined income from the show, we’ve taken over the lease from the studio. We’ll live here until we decide on our starter home. Because one day we’ll buy our own multi-million dollar mansion on the ocean. With our own money. That we earned.

Not from some trust fund given to me by my father.

We enter the apartment, things still stilted between us. I don’t like that, especially not after the private conversation I had with her parents earlier today.

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