Filthy Foreign Exchange Book 2 Page 13

  “Love me too, but you’re overwhelmed, and not finished overthinking every last angle.” His laugh is full of heart, relieving any tension. “I’m aware, Love.”

  “Well, as long as we’re clear,” I say through a smile, pressing my face against his chest and closing my eyes. I don’t deny it; he’s absolutely right—every word he just said.

  And he loves me.

  I’m gonna dance at my prom, and silently savor that for a while.

  We spend the rest of the evening moving, and often laughing, as one, kissing and letting our hands explore more freely than ever before until my feet ache and a yawn escapes me.

  “I’ll take you back soon, Love, but could you do me one last favor?”

  “Besides handing you my virginity on prom night, hot off a clichéd silver platter?”

  I can’t believe I just said that.

  Kingston roars, clutching his side and losing a few laughed-out tears of his own.

  “Christ.” He struggles to catch his breath, wiping at his eyes. “You are always a delight, Echo—a refreshing, captivating delight. But no, I had something else in mind.”

  He pulls a small remote from his pocket—that explains the convenient music changes—and issues a challenge with a significant lift of one brow, biting on his grin.

  “I was hoping you’d end the night by showing me your best moves…I dare you.”

  It takes a second for me to realize what I’m hearing, and laughter pours out of me.

  “Dare accepted!” I yell over the beat, and shake it like nobody’s watching to the next song, knowing it’s far from coincidence that it’s by…the Spice Girls.

  The perfect ending to a perfect night.

  ~~~~~

  The next morning, the entire group is downstairs, packed and waiting in the lobby to leave for the day-long bus ride to Italy. But Kingston’s nowhere in sight.

  Something eerie washes over me—an acute sense of dread, grave in my gut—and I set down my bag.

  “Nat, watch my stuff. I’m gonna go check his room.”

  I run to the elevator and press the button several frantic times, the sinking feeling in my stomach growing fiercer by the second.

  I can’t get to his door fast enough, and I bang my fist against it.

  “Kingston!” I yell. “Kingston, are you in there?”

  He opens the door, phone at his ear, and I just know the second I see his pale complexion and lifeless eyes that something’s wrong.

  He moves aside for me to walk in, but doesn’t speak, listening intently to whoever’s on the other end of the line. I take a seat on the end of his bed, and wait.

  I’m still unsure what’s happening, the bits and pieces he added to the call telling me nothing, when he hangs up.

  “I have to leave—return to London,” he breathes out heavily, eyes closing as he runs a hand over his face. “My grandmother’s been brought there, to stay with my father.”

  “Okay,” I wonder aloud, not yet having heard what’s got him so upset. “Is she all right?”

  “Not if she’s insisted on returning to London.” He sits beside me, propping both elbows on his knees and dropping his head in his hands. “We’re very close, my grandmother and I. She’s who I spend my summers in Scotland with.

  “And she must sense,” he adds, gulping loudly, “something’s amiss, because she’s always said, since I was a wee chap, ‘I’ll end my stay in London, when it’s my time.’”

  I wrap my arm around his back and lean against him. “Maybe she’s just not feeling well, and worried. I’m sure your father will find her the best doctors, and she’ll be fine,” I offer in optimistic support, but he’s already shaking his head.

  “She has wonderful doctors in Scotland. No, this is it. She would never leave her home if she wasn’t sure.”

  I don’t disagree. How can I? I’ve never met his grandmother. But the love he holds for her is evident in every word he speaks and solemn move he makes.

  “I’ll come with you,” I say, rubbing his back.

  His head jerks up. His eyes are wide, and of course sullen, but also allowing room for something more.

  “Just like that? You’ll miss the rest of the trip?”

  I bob my head once, sharp and sure. “Just like that.”

  “She finally tells me.” He smiles. There’s still a sadness looming in his eyes, but also a content light he can’t hide. “I love you too, Echo.”

  He kisses me. It’s a gentle joining of our mouths—the transfer of my love, which I’m certain gives him comfort.

  “All right.” He stands. “Our car should be ready, and a new tour guide is on his way to replace me. I suppose all that’s left is to inform the others.”

  His face falls suddenly.

  “Shit. What about Natalie? I know you don’t want to leave her. It’s fine, Echo, if—”

  I stand too, and circle his waist with my arms. “What’d I say? Just. Like. That. You head down. I need to make a call.”

  He offers a knowing smile of support that’s laced with hope, then grabs his bags and leaves to give me some privacy.

  My mother answers on the fifth ring.

  “Hey Mom. It’s me, Echo.”

  She gasps, albeit sleepily. “Oh my God, Echo, are you all right?”

  Damn. I totally forgot about the time-difference thing again, and just woke her in the middle of the night, scaring her to death.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I offer in quick reassurance.

  After a loud, relieved breath, she really perks up.

  “I’d say you’re in trouble for the severe lack of phone calls you promised, but Sebastian’s been keeping us informed and showing us pictures. Are you having fun? It looks like you are.”

  “Mom.” I’m squeezing my eyes shut, hating to interrupt. “I’m sorry for not calling enough, and for calling so late now, and I promise—for real this time—to tell you everything soon. But right now, I’m in a hurry and, um…I need to talk to Dad. Please.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  I debate my words, apparently not answering fast enough.

  “Echo?”

  “Mom, I really am fine. And no disrespect, but this is something I know I have to clear with Dad.”

  “Well, he’s awake, and currently staring at me with the same worry I had when you first called, so here you go. Love you.”

  I hear the rustle of the phone being passed between them.

  “Young lady, you best tell me you’re safe,” he grumbles in my ear. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, and now is when you finally decide to call us directly? Are you hurt? In jail? Start talking.”

  “No, sir, neither.”

  “All right, that’s good.” He, too, exhales loud relief in my ear. “Then what is it?”

  “Well, Daddy—”

  “Daddy?” He laughs. “Oh, this oughta be a dandy. Brace yourself, Julie, our daughter just called me Daddy.”

  I clear my throat. “Dad, I’m changing plans. I’m no longer going from here, Amsterdam, to Italy.”

  “And why is that?” The cynicism in his tone vibrates over the line.

  “I’m going back to London…” I suck in a deep breath, then speak as fast as I can, “…with Kingston. His grandmother is there, and may not be well, and he…he needs me. And I need him, Dad. I want to go—to be there for him, and Gerard.”

  “I supposed that’ll be fine.” He…agrees? And easily? “Jesus, Echo. You gotta work on timing and delivery; you about gave your old man a heart attack. It’s all right,” I hear him comfort my mom. “She’s changing routes, is all. Kingston’s grandma is sick.”

  I literally pull the phone away from my ear, checking to see if I’ve dialed the right number, then somehow, amid my utter shock, manage to put it back to my ear.

  “So…it’s okay? You’re saying yes, and you’re not mad?”

  “Baby girl, I admit I’ve been hard on you for a long time, and maybe a bit overprotective. But now, that part of my job i
s done. And it worked, because you’re a fine young woman who I trust completely—hell, I could no more keep you and that fellow of yours apart than your grandpa could’ve kept me from your mama. And I don’t want to. Kingston’s a good man, and I know he’ll make you happy. That’s all I ever wanted, Echo, for you to be happy.”

  “I am happy, Dad—more than I thought possible. I…I love him.”

  Never—ever—did I imagine having a conversation even close to this with my father. Telling him I’m in love with the boy who lived a room away from me for months and was, for a while, his arson suspect? Unimaginable.

  “I figured as much. Ah, hell, your mom’s crying now. That all, honey? You probably need to get going.”

  “I love you, Dad. So much. Thank you.” I manage not to blubber, despite my nose tingling with the threat of upcoming tears.

  “I love you too, Echo. Be safe. And pick up the damn phone again—soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hang up and check my phone once more, just to be sure. Holy shit! That call actually happened.

  And with the new strength, support, and approval I was anything but expecting from my father, I can focus all my energy on helping Kingston when he needs me most.

  Chapter 18

  Kingston’s explanation and further instructions to the group are swift, his eagerness to get on the road home obvious.

  I use the time to hug Natalie. Our goodbye is tearful, and full of promises about staying in touch. Of course, I make sure she’s comfortable staying behind—and she assures me she is, especially now that she has a budding new friendship with Bridget.

  And then Kingston and I are in the back of a town car, heading to London. He’s quieter than usual, lost in thought but keeping a tight grip on my hand during the long ride. He did ask if I wanted to stop for a bite to eat, and at first I declined, not wanting to delay our arrival.

  But after almost four hours on the road, I finally have to insist we stop for a bathroom break. And I’m more than a bit relieved when I hurry back to the car to find he’s grabbed me some snacks.

  The trip may be long and quiet, but it’s never once uncomfortable. And the minute we arrive, his relief—and urgency—are palpable.

  Kingston hardly waits for the car to come to a complete stop in his driveway before opening the door and jumping out, though still having mind to offer me his hand. I move quickly, hustling out of the car and working even harder to keep up with his fast strides inside.

  “Father, we’re here!” he calls out, his head turning this way and that, dragging me along as he searches the front two rooms. “Father?”

  “Back here, son. On the sunporch.”

  We all but run there, and find…Gerard and his elderly mother enjoying the evening, and their tea.

  “Echo.” Gerard stands, gripping my shoulders and kissing both my cheeks. “What a wonderful surprise. Mother, this is—”

  “I know precisely who she is, and what a lovely creature at that. Come here, darling.” She pats the cushion beside her. “I’m tickled pink to have the chance to get to meet my Kingston’s Echo. I’ve heard an awful lot about you, young lady.”

  “Grandmother,” Kingston says, his voice cracking with confused concern, “are you up for visiting? Shouldn’t you be—”

  “Bollocks,” she hushes him. “I’ve been resting all day.”

  “Grandmother, what did Dr. Morgan say? Did something prompt this? Does he know you’re here?”

  She holds up a hand, shaking her head. “I’m done speaking of doctors and all that concerns them. Why don’t you boys go convene elsewhere and discuss things, yes?” When she gets no response, she waves the men out. “Leave us, both of you.”

  “But, Grandmother—”

  I have to smother my giggle at Kingston’s appalled expression, stunned that he’s being dismissed.

  “My dear boy, you’re not thinking of arguing with an old, dying woman, are you?”

  Now I know where he learned how to let his arched eyebrows speak for themselves.

  “Certainly not.” He chuckles faintly, his mood lightening, despite still being visibly off-put. “May I have a hug first, before I’m vanquished?”

  “If you must.” She smiles teasingly, holding open her arms.

  When he leans down to hug her, she closes her eyes…and sniffs lightly, as if inhaling him into memory.

  “Thank you for coming home. I’d say you needn’t have, but as you’ve brought our girl, I shan’t. Now away with you.”

  “Let’s go, son.” Gerard seems pleased by the interaction, amusement in his eyes as he looks at his mother. “Let the hens cluck.”

  Bye, I mouth to Kingston, giving him a small wave.

  Not I’m not a doctor, but the woman beside me seems anything but fading. She’s totally got her wits about her, and is as pleasant and ornery as the grandson who adores her.

  We talk for what may be well over an hour. She tells me endless stories about Kingston…after she finishes giving me the third degree, of course—which, judging by her smiles and nods, I pass.

  And then an earnestness shifts through the air and she takes both my hands in hers, holding onto them dearly for the duration of what she says next.

  “When my boy came to me last fall, his stay with you cut short, he was…like I’d never seen him. I suppose the best word to describe it would be ‘heartbroken.’ You see, Echo, in this family, we only fall once, fast, and all the way to the bottom. Kingston loves you. I recognized it immediately, even if he still hadn’t at the time, and he will love you for the rest of his life.”

  I want to tell her I feel the same for him, but I’m hesitant, unsure how to do so.

  “Love is such a beautiful thing, you know. It’s not always easy—we’re all flawed—but a life with someone we cherish and love is much fuller than one without.”

  I agree, as young and naïve to it as I may be, but I don’t have a chance to respond.

  “Soon, I’ll be gone,” she says, staring off at the lush estate garden. “I’ll be unable to help him find any hope or light, should you not feel the same of him. So, young lady, tell me now—while I still have time left—if I need to have a talk with my dear boy. Please.”

  She searches my eyes for my answer, the unconditional love and concern in hers penetrating my soul.

  “Mrs., um…pardon me, Lady Hawthorne, I—”

  “You may call me Poppy, darling.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I fidget, honored. “Poppy. What a beautiful name. The flower…it means ‘peace,’ I believe?”

  “In part, yes. It’s also said to represent eternal sleep.”

  She watches closely for my reaction to the insinuation.

  “But…you’re lovely—vibrant,” I blather, crossing boundaries without care. “You seem healthy…wonderful, actually.” I smile at her, comparing her every feature to his, finding and admiring many similarities.

  “You’re too kind, but a woman of my age knows when it’s time to get her matters sorted. Everything I have will be Kingston’s; my manor in Scotland is his favorite place in the world. He hopes to share it with you, Echo. So please, do answer my earlier question, so I may have the peace you spoke of.”

  “All well out here?”

  Kingston pops in, carrying a teapot, which he uses to top off his grandmother’s cup. “Love, can I get you a beverage?”

  “No, I’m fine, but thank you.” I trap his gaze and do my best to convey without words that he should stop worrying so much, as his grandmother seems fine—and that if I’m wrong, I’ll be right at his side.

  “All right, I’m going.” He laughs, backing out of the room, and I giggle when I turn to see his grandmother giving him a very direct message with her expression. “To hell with the favorite-grandson theory, I suppose.”

  “I only sent him away to get his goat,” Poppy snickers when he’s gone. “And you’ve now answered all my questions, darling.”

  “I—I have?” Perhaps her clarity comes and goe
s, sadly, because I know I didn’t answer her at all.

  “It’s often not our words that make the most noise, dear girl. You look at my Kingston the same way I looked at my Oliver…the same way Miranda looked at Gerard. And now, I have peace. I’m so glad you came, so I could see for myself. Be well, dear Echo. Be loved. And love in return, silly and unashamedly, yes?”

  “Yes,” I agree wistfully. “I can definitely do that.”

  I politely excuse myself, hoping more than ever that she’s going to be okay.

  ~~~~~

  After dinner, I’m again shown to Kingston’s room—this time by Kingston himself.

  “Your bags have been brought up, but I believe you’ll find some new pieces you might enjoy in the bureau. Sleep well, Love.”

  He gives me a full, tender kiss at the door, then turns to enter the room across the hall.

  “I like your grandma,” I add quickly. “She’s wonderful.”

  He glances back over his shoulder, dazzling me with a beautiful smile. “She more than fancies you, as I knew she would should she ever have the chance to meet you. I’m beyond pleased that she did.”

  “Me too.” There’s a long pause. “Good night, Kingston.”

  “Sweet dreams, my love.”

  I enter the room and close the door behind me, hurrying to locate my phone. I call my father, as promised, and assure him we made it safely. He’s happy when he hangs up, so I, in turn, am happy I remembered to call.

  I go to the dresser and open the drawer, gasping in awe at what’s inside. He must’ve sent one of the staff shopping. I select a pink silk camisole top and shorts set—my favorite ensemble, his favorite color on me—and head for a hot shower to end the long day.

  I don’t know why I let it shock me anymore; the man has proven, time and again, that he can make anything happen. But nonetheless, I tingle with impure surprise when I see it.

  There’s a message on the shower door, emerging through the steam.

  Tonight, we share one bed. Come to me.

  This is the part where I should be petrified, because I know two things, without a doubt—one, if I don’t go to him, he will come to me. And two, exactly what’s going to happen when he does. But I’m not.