Kiss Me Kate (The English Brothers Book 6) (18 page)

“Is she a… a nurse or something? Someone you met while—”

“I knew her a long time ago,” he said. “Long before you.”

“Before me…” Amy was silent for a long time before whispering, “It was her, wasn’t it? It wasn’t Connie Atwell or Becca Flincher or any of the other girls who you were with when we broke up. It was her. She was always between us.”

Étienne took a deep breath and nodded. “It was always her.”

“Then what was I? A plaything?”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped his throat. “Hardly.”

“Did you ever
love
me? Ever?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“But not like her?” asked Amy, her voice breaking again, and this time, for real.

“No. I’m sorry,” said Étienne, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Amy, I have to go.”

“Are you with her now?”

Her bitter, jealous tone made unpleasant goose bumps rise up on his skin and whatever sympathy he’d been feeling for her suddenly dissipated.

“That’s none of your business.” He paused, thinking about all of the years he wasted with Amy, when the person he’d always wanted was Kate. “We’re done, Amy. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I really do. But we’re done.”

Without waiting for a response, he pressed End and threw the phone back down on the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he raked his hands through his hair, and no doubt prompted by his conversation with Amy, his own anger exploded inside of him.

It
was
always Kate
. Always.
And yet Kate had let her cousins, her father, and her fear dictate the course of their future. She’d allowed duty and lies to keep her from him while he’d longed for her every day since the last day he’d seen her.

Damn it, he needed answers, too, and he needed them now just as much as she did.

Grabbing his pants off the floor, he pulled them on, zipping them up and buttoning them quickly. He threw on his undershirt and swiped his keycard off the desk, limping as fast as he could to the door. Barefoot and furious, he made his way down the hall and knocked on her door a moment later.

“Étienne?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she took in his unkempt appearance.

He pushed past her, into her room, listening for the door to close behind him before turning to face her. “I lied. I care about what happened.”

***

Kate was trying to catch her breath. His sudden appearance, wild-eyed and demanding, made her nervous. Not to mention, she was in the middle of changing and hadn’t had a chance to button her silk blouse or tuck it into her favorite pair of jeans.

“What changed between the hallway and now?” she asked, her fingers quickly finishing the last three buttons and blisteringly aware that they were alone in her hotel room.

“Amy called. She broke up with Ken. She wants me back.”

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, I—”

“And I told her I was never coming back. I told her I was in love with someone else, that I’ve been in love with that someone else for as long as I can remember. Always.”

Kate’s face crumpled as she sobbed quietly, pressing her palm over her mouth, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears.

“And I thought she loved me too,” he choked out, flinching as he said the words. “Which is why I don’t understand how she could forget about me, how she could walk away from what we shared without a second glance, how she could take my heart with her and never… Why didn’t you ask for my side of the story? Why didn’t you at least let me tell you what happened before you decided that you didn’t love me anymore?”

Stunned by his words, Kate stared back at him, shaking her head back and forth, lightheaded and confused.

He blinked his eyes furiously, wetting his lips before speaking again.

“Why didn’t you write?” he asked softly, lowering himself to the corner of the bed and straightening out his injured leg in front of him. He looked up at her, his eyes miserable, beseeching, distraught. “You promised. You promised you would write. I was holding you in my arms and you were crying and you promised you would write.”

He didn’t know.

Oh God.

He didn’t know that she’d written.

“Étienne,” she sobbed, taking a step toward him. “I
did
write. I wrote you every day for a month.”

His eyes widened, and he winced as he stared back at her in disbelief. “No.”

She nodded, taking another step toward him to sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from him. “Yes. Thirty letters. One a day. None answered.”

He shook his head. “I never… I never got one. Not one.”

“I promise you, I wrote them.” She shifted her body to face his, watching as he leaned his elbows on his knees and let his head drop. She continued, “I sent them to Chateau Nouvelle. I didn’t know…I didn’t know, at the time, that you weren’t there to receive them.”

His face whipped up to look at her. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know that you were expelled from St. Michael’s. I didn’t know that you were sent to military school. I called your house, but your mother told me never to call again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I gave her my name, and she said to never call again.”

“When?”

“Two weeks after I left.”

“You didn’t know?” he asked, looking up at her with crushed, almost disbelieving eyes.

“Not until Stratton told me. Yesterday. That’s the first time I ever heard about it.”

He winced again, running his fingers through his hair, where they remained buried as he dropped her gaze. “They kept us apart.”

“You parents?” she asked.

He looked up again, his eyes narrow. “And yours.”

“Mine?” asked Kate, tilting her head to the side and frowning. She shook her head. “Mine never even knew about you.”

“I came to New York to see you…before I was sent away. I saw your father. He told me that you didn’t want to see me.”

“N-No,” said Kate, shaking her head as a sick, swirling feeling turned over her stomach.

“Yes,” said Étienne.

“Please tell me that’s not true,” she sobbed, knowing that it was. Knowing in her heart that her father had sent him away and made sure he believed she didn’t love him anymore.

“I can’t. I wish I could. I drove to your apartment at three in the morning. I wasn’t allowed to see you, to say goodbye, to explain.”

She felt stunned, like she’d been hit by lightning or sucker punched.

“Oh,” she managed, the sound a whimper, an expression of pain and regret and disbelief. He hadn’t gotten her letters. He never knew she’d called. And she’d never known that he’d come to her home looking for her. They’d been kept apart by their families. They’d been deceived.

Étienne stretched out his arm and let his palm slide across the slick material of the comforter, and Kate dropped her hand to her side so that he could find it, so that he could entwine his fingers through hers and bind himself to her, so that they could experience this deep regret, this terrible betrayal, together. They sat in silence for several long minutes, dumbstruck and still, as they made way, in each of their heads—finally, finally, finally—for the truth.

When she was ready, Kate turned to Étienne, and without any prompting, he looked up at her, his eyes sad but clear.

“Tell me everything,” she murmured. “From the moment we said goodbye.”

Étienne’s hand was warm, clasping hers tightly as they walked slowly back across the Winslow’s lawn, every step taking them closer to Haverford Park and closer to their final goodbye.

“My parents would say this is just a wild crush,” she said in a hushed, bewildered voice. “They’d tell me that I’ll get over it.”

“Do
you
think you’ll get over it?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered. “I love you. I don’t think I’ll
ever
get over it.”

“Do you wish it was less than it is?”

“It feels boundless,” she said softly.

“
My bounty as boundless as the sea
,” he quoted. “
My love as deep
.”

“What’s that from?” she asked.

“Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “I re-read that line last night, and it reminded me of you.”

“That’s how it is for me,” said Kate, her chest hurting as her fingers tightened around his. “That’s exactly how it is.”

“And that scares you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Doesn’t it you?”

“It’s
not
a crush,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. “It’s love.”

“Yes,” she said, sighing the word like she had no control over its urgency to leave her lips.

“What we just did,” he said softly, the slightest touch of uncertainty in his voice, “that was love, wasn’t it?”

She stopped walking, reaching for his other hand and staring up at him in the moonlight. The reality was that it had been a little awkward. She’d started putting the condom on backwards, and he’d had to flip it around to help her. And when he’d entered her, it had hurt a little more than a little; he felt much bigger than she’d anticipated, and it burned as he pushed inside. As he rocked into her, tears had fallen from her eyes. She’d stared up at the sky with his forehead resting on her shoulder, his breath quick and panting as he tried to move slowly so he didn’t hurt her. “Is this okay?” he’d asked over and over again, and she’d answered “Yes” because it
had
hurt, but the pain hadn’t made Kate consider stopping. Being so intimately joined with him felt right, felt necessary, felt like the only thing that mattered.

Once he was fully lodged inside of her, he’d taken a deep breath and stayed still for a moment, staring down at her face.

“I don’t know…where you stop…and I begin,” he’d panted softly, a sheen of sweat on his face and his body trembling because he was trying to hold himself back, but ultimately couldn’t.

The second time, made possible by the condom in his wallet, had been slower, more deliberate, and more satisfying for both of them. The second time was everything about which the songs were written and the stories told. The second time felt like heaven, and afterwards they’d held each other for over an hour, breathing, barely talking, just savoring their last moments together.

Looking at his face now, her heart exploded with love for him, and she rushed to reassure him.

“Yes,” she whispered brokenly, unable to help another useless tear from escaping down her cheek. “That was love.”

He released her hands and slid his palms up her arms, over her shoulders, gently caressing her throat and finally landing on her face. His thumb swiped away the tear. “
You
are love, Kate English. Nothing will ever, ever change that for me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I defy any other plan for my life. I refuse it. Because
this
is real—me loving you and you loving me. Because I swear to God, Kate, I will still love you on the day I die.”

Her shoulders shook with the sudden power of her sobs and he pulled her against his chest, stroking her back. His words were rough and ragged as he said, “This is
not
goodbye. It’s
not
. This is just…until we meet again. And we will, Kate. I promise you that.”

Her tears fell in cascades, wetting his T-shirt. She didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want the uncertainty of their separation when being with him felt like home. She raged at the universe for allowing them to meet only to pull them apart so soon after, and she thanked God for the time they’d had, and the chance to love him and be loved by him.

When Kate could finally speak, she drew back, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands and looking up at his face.

“How? How can this work?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “My parents won’t allow it. I’m not allowed to date yet and they don’t let me talk to boys on the phone.”

He grimaced, then nodded. “Okay. Write to me.”

“But I don’t have e-mail. They monitor
everything
. They—”

“I assume you have paper and pens?”

She nodded.

“And enough change to buy a few stamps.”

She sniffled, nodding again.

“So write me letters.” He took her hand and they re-started their slow walk back to the hedges. “Write to me…whenever you want to.”

“Every day,” she promised. “I’ll write you a letter every day.”

“And I’ll give you my phone number. Surely your parents go out sometimes? In the evening? Call me then.”

“They’d find out. They’d see the charge on the phone bill.”

“To Haverford? You could say you were calling your cousins. Would they really inspect the number?”

She gave him a look. They were too smart for that.

“Okay, fine. Then look at your mom’s calendar. Write and tell me when they’ll be out, and I’ll call you.”

A sudden laugh escaped her lips; it was a sound of hope, and it made her lips tilt up in a small smile, because he kept coming up with answers and solutions. It made her feel like he wouldn’t give up on them. “I can do that.”

“See?” He grinned down at her, squeezing her hand once. “When will you be back?”

“Definitely for the summer party at Haverford Park,” said Kate.

“July,” he said, grimacing. “Not before?”

“It’s possible, but my parents are very busy.”

“Then I’ll come to you. I’ll figure out a way. I’ll tell my parents I have a big exam coming up and I need to go to the library all day, but instead I’ll take a cab to the train station in Philly and come up to New York.”

“Libitz will cover for me,” said Kate excitedly. “I’ll tell my parents I’m going to her place for the day to work on a project or study.”

“Okay!” he said, his voice more boyish as he got excited. “And you’ll come and meet my train.”

“Yes!” she said, stealing a glance at his face. “I’ll meet your train.”

“I assume I shouldn’t send letters directly to you…can I send letters to Libitz? Will she get them to you?”

“Yes, I think so…let me check with her. I’ll send you her address if she says yes, but I’m sure she will.”

“And maybe you can call me from her place sometimes?”

“I’ll try,” she promised.

“I’ll tell you when I’m coming and you can arrange to get away for a day.”

“I will,” promised Kate. “No matter what it takes! Lib will help, too. And I don’t care if I get in trouble. I promise I’ll be there.”

“Me too,” he said. “No matter what.”

In their excitement, they hadn’t noticed that they’d finally reached the hedge. It loomed over them—a six-foot barrier that would separate them for several long weeks until they could find a way to see each other again.

“Will you work on your parents, Kate?” he asked, turning away from the hedge, his eyes wild as they caught hers. “So we don’t have to sneak around and hide? Maybe if you explained everything, they’d let us see each—”

“No.” Kate shook her head. “If they knew… if they knew how I feel about you, I think they’d try to keep us apart. But Étienne, college is only two and a half more years away. We could choose to be in the same city.”

“Your parents won’t insist you stay in New York?”

“Even if they do, I’ll have more freedom. I can live in the dorms or share an apartment with Lib. I can make my own choices. I’ll be eighteen by then with some money of my own. I’ll be free and…we can be together.”

“Two and a half years,” he said softly, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arms around her. “It’s not too bad,” he said softly in her ear. “I’d wait a thousand years for you.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she sobbed, her tears falling fast now.

“You’ll write to me,” he said in a low, barely-controlled voice. “You promised.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, staring at the hedge behind him. She felt the warm, fragile hopefulness of their conversation slip away, replaced with the cold, harsh reality of their farewell. She leaned back at looked up at him. “Well, I guess—”

“Kiss me, Kate,” he said, his eyes suddenly glistening in the moonlight as he searched her face with a stark misery that mirrored her own and wrenched her heart.

She pressed her lips to his, a sad kiss, a kiss goodbye.

“I love you,” he said, his voice hitching as he reached up with one hand and swiped at his eyes.

“Me too,” she said. “I love you, too.”

She stretched out her hand, touching his beautiful face, holding his pale, chiseled cheeks between her palms for the last time. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently one last time as her tears mingled with his.

Then, without saying “goodbye,” she turned away from the love of her life and forced her feet to move forward. Looking back one last time, eyes swimming and hand rose in farewell, she waved before slipping back through the hedge.