JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 12 из 138So they can learn lots of neat things and grow up to be really smart like their parents,” I explain. “Isn’t that right, Dakota?”
“I guess,” she says with a shrug.
Sean blinks again. “Are you smart, Miss Kristin?”
“I like to think I am,” I say.
Yet it’s moments like this that make me wonder, and question myself. I care about these two kids so damn much and would never do anything to hurt them. So why am I having an affair with their father?
I know why.
I can’t help myself.
Michael is wonderful, and he loves me, and I love him as much as we both do Dakota and Sean.
As for stepmom Penley, she treats the kids like fashion accessories, to be seen adoringly at her side like an Hermès or a Chanel bag. She doesn’t make time for them as much as she allots it, scheduling the two children into her life the same way she does luncheons and museum committee meetings.
I hate the termhome wrecker, and if for one moment I thought I was actually wrecking something wonderful, I’d be out of their lives in an instant. But I spend a lot of time in that penthouse apartment, and I see what’s going on.
Yes, maybe my head knows better. In my heart, however, I’m convinced that the four of us – Dakota, Sean, Michael, and me – are destined to be together.
It’s going to happen.
Soon.
Chapter 9
WE BOUND OFF the elevator and right into the playful smile of Louis. “Well, if it isn’t the Three Musketeers!” he exclaims.
Louis reaches to the side of his doorman’s coat and brandishes an imaginary sword. On cue, Sean goes for his. Their daily make-believe duel lasts all the way across the lobby.
It’s always fun to watch, especially today. After the morning I’ve had, this ritual – this return to normalcy – is exactly what I need.
I laugh and cheer Sean on as Louis pretends to be fatally wounded. With all the gusto of a B movie actor, he drops to his knees and dies a slow, painful death.
Maybe that’s what does it.
Or maybe it’s simply being outside again.
Either way, no sooner do I set foot on the sidewalk than my thoughts return to the Fálcon Hotel and my dream – that horrible, horrible dream – coming to life.
Instantly, I’m awash in all the disturbing images again. They’re vivid in my mind and at the same time confusing. New Yorkers, more than anyone, don’t like things they can’t rationally explain. That goes for non-native New Yorkers as well. Like me.
“I guess,” she says with a shrug.
Sean blinks again. “Are you smart, Miss Kristin?”
“I like to think I am,” I say.
Yet it’s moments like this that make me wonder, and question myself. I care about these two kids so damn much and would never do anything to hurt them. So why am I having an affair with their father?
I know why.
I can’t help myself.
Michael is wonderful, and he loves me, and I love him as much as we both do Dakota and Sean.
As for stepmom Penley, she treats the kids like fashion accessories, to be seen adoringly at her side like an Hermès or a Chanel bag. She doesn’t make time for them as much as she allots it, scheduling the two children into her life the same way she does luncheons and museum committee meetings.
I hate the termhome wrecker, and if for one moment I thought I was actually wrecking something wonderful, I’d be out of their lives in an instant. But I spend a lot of time in that penthouse apartment, and I see what’s going on.
Yes, maybe my head knows better. In my heart, however, I’m convinced that the four of us – Dakota, Sean, Michael, and me – are destined to be together.
It’s going to happen.
Soon.
Chapter 9
WE BOUND OFF the elevator and right into the playful smile of Louis. “Well, if it isn’t the Three Musketeers!” he exclaims.
Louis reaches to the side of his doorman’s coat and brandishes an imaginary sword. On cue, Sean goes for his. Their daily make-believe duel lasts all the way across the lobby.
It’s always fun to watch, especially today. After the morning I’ve had, this ritual – this return to normalcy – is exactly what I need.
I laugh and cheer Sean on as Louis pretends to be fatally wounded. With all the gusto of a B movie actor, he drops to his knees and dies a slow, painful death.
Maybe that’s what does it.
Or maybe it’s simply being outside again.
Either way, no sooner do I set foot on the sidewalk than my thoughts return to the Fálcon Hotel and my dream – that horrible, horrible dream – coming to life.
Instantly, I’m awash in all the disturbing images again. They’re vivid in my mind and at the same time confusing. New Yorkers, more than anyone, don’t like things they can’t rationally explain. That goes for non-native New Yorkers as well. Like me.