Page 42 of When Hearts Ignite
“Hey! I’m a busy career woman too!” She’s a top PR consultant at a global firm, so she has a point there.
“Ems, focus,” Jess chides gently as her hazel eyes shine warmly at us.
“Mama, I want to talk to Uncle Steven!” I see a small tuft of brown curls at the edge of the screen and a warmth fills my senses.
Jess hoists her toddler up on her lap and Violet flashes me a cheeky grin, her lips messy with chocolate sauce smeared all over them.
“You’re not at work today, Jess? And how are you doing, little Violet? Are you a good sister to your little brother?”
“I’m not little! And I’m the best sister. Lucas would tell you, but he doesn’t know his words.” She pauses as she squints her eyes at me. “Why do you look tired, Uncle Steven? Are you staying up past your bedtime?”
“See? What did I tell you? You need to stop working so much. You’re going to end up with a heart attack before you’re thirty,” Emily chimes in, her arms crossed over her chest.
Jess rolls her eyes at her sister and ruffles Violet’s hair before handing her a tissue. “I took today off from work. Spending a little bit of time with this rascal before she heads back to school in a few weeks.”
Jess is an audit partner at a major public accounting firm and she’s usually mired in work, but summer is her slower season, which she takes advantage of now that she has little kiddos afoot.
“So, what’s with the call today?”
Emily perks up, her scowl replaced with a blinding smile. “Happy birthday, Steven! Enjoy your last year before you hit the big three zero.”
Frowning, I glance at the calendar on my computer monitor.
Shit. It is my birthday today.
“You forgot. So, I’m guessing you have no plans other than work?” Emily’s lips flatten into a thin line. “Don’t make me fly over there. And you know I can. Adrian can get the jet ready within the hour.”
I hold up my hand. The last thing I need is Emily trailing after me, nagging my head off about having a life outside of work. She doesn’t understand this is the one place I feel at home, the one place I can keep the dark thoughts out of my mind.
Except now, there’s someone who can calm the rough waters. Someone who can—
No.
“Don’t fly out there, Ems. I’m sure Steven has plans already, don’t you, Steven?” Jess’s soft voice interjects, but there’s a sharpness in her gaze. Nothing escapes her notice.
I clear my throat. “Yes, I have plans. But thank you for calling.”
“We won’t take up too much of your time. We just wanted to say happy birthday to you, little brother, and we love you. Can’t wait until you visit at Thanksgiving.”
My nose prickles at the warmth in Jess’s voice. Growing up in the empty halls of our mansion, where my life consisted of tutors and studying, the endless pursuit of being at the top in class, the best in everything, all duties of Kingsley offsprings, Jess had been the one to sneak me my favorite sour cream and onion potato chips on special occasions, even though Mother forbade junk food in the house. Jess had been the one to give me a hug when I got anything less than an A on my tests. She was the one who told me she was proud of me when I brought home awards and lacrosse trophies.
These accolades would only garner a terse nod from Father and a passing ruffle of my hair, if I were lucky. Mother would flatten her lips in approval, noting this was all to be expected, as we should never settle for second best.
Knock. Knock.
“I have to go. Someone is at the door. Thank you for the birthday wishes.” I smile at my sisters and my little niece, who is stuffing a chocolate chip cookie she procured out of nowhere into her mouth while garbling something which sounds like happy birthday. Chocolate is smeared all over those cute little lips again, and Jess lets out an exasperated sigh.
Emily points her index and middle fingers toward her eyes and then toward the screen, the universal hand signal suggesting she’d be watching my every move.
Chuckling, I wave goodbye and set down the phone.
Knock. Knock.
The rapping at the door is more incessant. My muscles tense as I prepare myself for whoever is at the door. I hope it’s not Sean again.
“Come in,” I holler, trying to focus my attention on the texts I missed when I dozed off. There are at least a dozen from the idiots I call my friends.
Charles
