Romance

Kingsley
I use the voice command to call Nate.
The sound of ringing fills the car, but there’s no answer.
“Fuck.” I hit one of my fists against the steering wheel as I take a sharp turn to the right.
I zigzag between cars, ignoring their honking and the occasional name-calling.
Right now, I’m on a mission.
One that will only be fulfilled once I’m at the firm and talking to that low-fucking-life.
When I first saw the document this morning, I thought something was wrong. Surely, the name and the fucking proof that lay in front of me were some sort of a mistake.
A miscalculation.
A coincidence.
A fucking anomaly in the system.
But it wasn’t.
And neither were the facts that I learned from the private investigator. Neither were the records that I had to stoop low and call in favors to acquire.
The truth was sitting squarely in front of me all this time, hiding in plain fucking sight and I was

Gwyneth
The glass of water slips from my hand and hits the sink with a loud crash, splintering all over the surface.
The sound collides with the climax of Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots that’s playing from Alexa.
I wince while I carefully grab the tiny pieces and throw them in the trash and simultaneously scroll through my phone.
Aside from the memes and mindless conversations in my group chat with my college friends, there’s nothing of importance. Though calling them friends is an exaggeration. Colleagues would be more appropriate.
Chris, Jenny, Alex and I all take pre-law at the same college, so we kind of flocked toward each other. It’s hard for me to consider anyone an actual friend, because most of the people I’ve met since I was in elementary school were either interested in my super successful father or our family drama, namely the drama between Dad and my step-grandma. It got wor

“Did you change your shampoo, Gwen? It’s still vanilla, but is it a different brand?”
I roll my eyes as I pull back. He has a super sensitive nose, like he can smell when I’ve had a drink behind his back, even after I brush my teeth and consume copious amounts of mouthwash.
“I mixed two brands together. Seriously, Dad, you have a weird sense of smell.”
“It’s for when my angel decides to drink when she’s not supposed to.”
I make a face and Dad ruffles my hair, sending the auburn strands flying.
“Not the hair!” I jerk away and smooth the stubborn thing down.
“You still look beautiful.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my father.”
“You got my genes, Angel, and that’s not something trivial. Anyone would find you beautiful.”
Not Nate.
A jolt rushes through me for just thinking his name. It takes all my resolve to say goodbye to Dad without turning a furious shade of red.
After he leaves, I sit on the steps, place my milkshake beside me, and grab my bracelet. The one he gave me for my birthday two years ago.
The same birthday where I kissed him and he rejected me so cruelly, I still feel flushed to my bones thinking about it.
If I thought Nate was turning cold around my eighteenth birthday, he’s now as hard as granite. He doesn’t speak to me unless it’s absolutely necessary. We rarely see each other, and when I go to the firm at the pretense of getting my father lunch, he just ignores me.
He doesn’t do it in a rude way that would make Dad notice. He’s subtle yet efficient. I can now count the number of times I’ve seen him over the last couple of years.
Crossing paths—about twenty.
Conversations—zero. Aside from the stray “How are you?” that’s detached and without warmth.
It’s not like he was always present when he was Uncle Nate. He was there for Dad mostly and didn’t pay me much attention, as if I were background noise.
A wallflower, maybe.
A kid.
But I could at least exist in his vicinity without feeling like I’d detonate from the inside out.
After I kissed him, I ruined the easygoing relationship we’d had for eighteen years.
But I don’t regret it.
Because I’d hoped I would be more than a kid to him. I’d hoped that he’d see me in a different light.
All my hopes are up in the air now.
But I need to plan Dad’s birthday in the next few weeks, and that means he’ll be there.
I gulp, my heart hammering in my chest.
Though it shouldn’t be, because I got over him, you know. It’s for the best, anyway, since Dad would go berserk, so everything is fine.
I’m fine.
I’ve been telling myself that for two years, but it’s never felt true. I guess that’s because he’s Nate.
The same Nate who taught me to control the emptiness inside me and turn it into a strength.
“That hollowness never goes away. It’s part of who you are now, whether you like it or not,” he said on my fifteenth birthday when he found me hiding in Dad’s wine cellar. That’s what I do when it gets to be too much and I don’t want to upset Dad—I hide.
That day was one of those overwhelming days. I hated it, my birthday, and myself. I felt like that abandoned newborn baby on the side of the road again, even though I remembered none of it. I felt like an unwanted presence and it made me empty. So empty that I couldn’t breathe and had to hold in the tears when Dad sang me Happy Birthday.
It was the day I realized that despite having the best father in the world, I didn’t feel complete. I thought I was weird because all I kept wishing for was a mother.
On every birthday, that’s the only thing I wished for. A mother. My mother. I wished she’d come back and explain why she did that to me.
But Dad was so happy that day, like on all of my birthdays. He always made them an event that he planned for weeks in advance. So I couldn’t be an ungrateful bitch and start bawling in front of him.
That’s why I sneaked into the wine cellar and did it alone, in silence.
Until the door opened and he appeared. Uncle Nate. He was still an uncle at the time, an intimidating one who would put a bully’s parent in their place with a few words. He’d done that once, when I was ten and a girl called me uneducated because my mother was a whore. It’s been an ongoing rumor; Kingsley Shaw fucked a whore and had to become a single parent when said whore disappeared.
I didn’t tell my dad, because I knew he’d be loud and cause drama, but Nate picked me up from school that day on his behalf and noticed something was wrong. He interrogated me until I confessed everything while ugly crying. That same evening, he visited the girl’s home and told the mother she would either keep her daughter under control or he’d sue her for everything she owned.
“You don’t cover up for people who hurt you, Gwyneth, do you hear me? That’s the exact attitude that will encourage them to continue hurting you and others. If you don’t want King involved, you come to me. Understand?”
I remained silent in his car, still a bit stunned about how the bully and her mother looked genuinely scared. At that moment, I almost idolized Nate as much as I did Dad.
“Do you understand?” he insisted in that firm voice, and I finally nodded.
“Good. Now, let’s go somewhere you can forget about all of this.”
He took me to the amusement park and bought me vanilla ice cream. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
The following morning, the bully apologized to me. That’s when I realized people fear Nate not only because of who his father is but also because he always keeps his promises.
What happened on my fifteenth birthday was a bit similar to the bully incident. Nate found me and crouched by my side, but he didn’t touch me.
“But I hate it.” I hid my face with my hands. “I hate that something is missing inside me.”
“Are you going to let it rule you or are you going to bring it to its knees in front of you? Because those are your only two options, Gwyneth. It’s up to you what you decide to fill it with. Strength or weakness.”
I chose neither.
I chose to fill it up with him.

Kingsley
I use the voice command to call Nate.
The sound of ringing fills the car, but there’s no answer.
“Fuck.” I hit one of my fists against the steering wheel as I take a sharp turn to the right.
I zigzag between cars, ignoring their honking and the occasional name-calling.
Right now, I’m on a mission.
One that will only be fulfilled once I’m at the firm and talking to that low-fucking-life.
When I first saw the document this morning, I thought something was wrong. Surely, the name and the fucking proof that lay in front of me were some sort of a mistake.
A miscalculation.
A coincidence.
A fucking anomaly in the system.
But it wasn’t.
And neither were the facts that I learned from the private investigator. Neither were the records that I had to stoop low and call in favors to acquire.
The truth was sitting squarely in front of me all this time, hiding in plain fucking sight and I was too blind to see it.
Was it arrogance?
Ignorance?
After all, I’ve grown so fast in so little time. 

7