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Alex: How do you know this?
Kingston: I crashed her brunch with my sisters.
Gabe: Out permanently?
Kingston: Her mom told her to take a vacation.
Gabe: Vacation is good.
Alex: This isn’t your fault, King. It rests squarely on the shoulders of her mother. Lucinda hasn’t had Katherine’s best interest at heart in a while.
Kingston: maybe ever.
Kingston: I know it’s not my fault. But still...
Kingston: feels like it.
I get it better than most. It’s a special kind of hell to think you’re responsible for someone else’s misfortune. Especially when it’s someone you love. But that’s honestly not the case here. And Katherine would never think any of this was King’s fault.
No. All this shit beneath her mother’s shoes is of her own making.
I can’t think of a single reason King or Katherine or Gabe or I could be responsible. We’re not the ones who signed her up for that auction. And we’re not responsible for the demons that traumatized her and gave her panic attacks.
Gabe: you didn’t fly the drone.
Alex: or take the pictures.
Kingston: right. you’re both right.
Alex: so what’s this about spaghetti squash?
???
Turns out Kingston can cook. Somewhere along the way, the man picked up killer pasta skills.
Gabe and King gather our plates and head into the kitchen, leaving me and Katherine at the round breakfast table. I love that there’s not a head of the table or harsh corners. Everyone’s equal here. There’s a little plant in the center of it that wasn’t there before, adding life and charm to the space.
Outside, rain patters against the window. We’re so high up that clouds block the view of the skyline, essentially wrapping us in a cozy cocoon.
Katherine swirls the cabernet in her glass slowly, methodically, lost in thought. I trail my thumb back and forth over her hand, content to soak in her presence.
She’s more relaxed than I expected. Then again, a good Cab and a plate of pasta will do that.
The clank of plates and silverware can be heard in the kitchen.
“All I’m saying is, my housekeeper will be here in the morning,” Gabe grumbles.
Sounds like he’s trying to get out of chores.
“It’s not hard,” King shoots back.
Katherine’s lips twitch. You don’t have to be a mind reader to know her brain dove straight into the gutter with King’s comment. She’s not alone.
“I know it’s not hard. But that’s why I work so fucking hard. So I don’t have to wash my own dishes.”
The kitchen falls silent, and I quirk a brow. Katherine grins, then presses her lips together, trying to stifle a giggle.
“You made billions of dollars so you don’t have to load a dishwasher?” Kingston sounds completely flabbergasted.