Page 6 of Keeping Kaitlyn

“WHAT DOES THIS MEAN,”I ASK, TRACING THE LINE of script inked into the side of his neck with the tip of my finger. Both dressed again, I’m back in his lap, Went’s arms wrapped around me, my cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“Ars Longa, Vita Brevis.” The hand on my back strokes down my spine and. “Life is short, Art lives forever.”

My fingers slide around to the other side of his neck. “And this one?”

“Acta non Verba.It’s something my grandfather used to say to me.” Went looks down at me with a smile that looks like it might hurt. “It meansactions, not words.”

“You miss him.” It’s not a question. I can see it, feel it, every time he talks about him.

“I do.” He answers me quietly. “I miss them both.”

“How—” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I want to bite off my own tongue. “Jesus—I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I struggle to sit up. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“It’s okay, Sunshine.” He tightens his hold on me and shakes his head. “You showed me yours, I can show you mine.” As soon as I stop struggling, Went loosens his grip, his fingers relaxing against my hip. “My grandmother had a stroke in the lobby of the Hawthorne where they lived. She and Lilah were going Christmas shopping and she just…” He gives me that smile again. “My grandfather went with her to the hospital, but she died before they could get her there. When my grandfather came home it was late, he tucked Lilah in, kissed her good night and went to bed.” Went shakes his head. “I flew home as soon asLilah called me. By the time I got in, everyone was asleep. When I woke up the next morning, my grandfather was still in bed. He’d always been an early riser, so I went to check on him—he was gone too.” Lifting the hand he has wrapped around my hip, he shows me the pocket watch tattooed on the back of it. “It was 8:23 in the morning.”

I let what he’s telling me sink in. That he and his sister lost the two people they loved and relied on most in the world, all on the same day. “What about your mother? Where?—”

“Astrid was in Rome for Fashion Week andtoo devastatedto travel.” He gives me a bitter smile while settling his hand back on my hip. “She made it back in time to play the grief-stricken daughter at their memorial—that’s the important thing.” The sarcasm in his tone is impossible to miss.

“Went…” I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.” Saying it sounds too small. Too trite for something so big and painful.

“My grandfather met my grandmother when they were seventeen. They’d been married for sixty-five years...” His smile turns wistful. “He’d always said that life wouldn’t be worth living without her. I guess he meant it.” Lifting a hand from my shoulder, he brushes the hair out of my eyes. “Everything sort of fell apart after that. Lilah went off the rails—she’s always been a handful, but without our grandparents to keep her in check, she got… lost. I do everything I can to keep her head above water, but she doesn’t make it easy.”

I remember the stack of tabloids Abbey flipped through like they were historical archives. More than half of them had Went’s sister on the cover, headlines screaming about how out of control she is.

Hurricane Delilah.

That’s what the magazines call her.

“What about your other sister?” I ask, remembering the drawings I found on the couch that first morning.

“Which one?” Went gives me another faint, bitter smile. “Constantina lives in Italy—my father left her and her brothers behind when he left their mother to come to America. She’s in her thirties and, from what I’ve been told, married with a family of her own. I’ve never met her and I’m sure she means to keep it that way. Dakota, Damien’s twin, lives in Helena withhermother and is going to the University of Montana—I haven’t seen her since I was in high school. Silver—the brunette in the drawing I showed you—lives in New York. She works part time in our father’s restaurant and goes to NYU. She’s the only one of us that he ever gave half a damn about. And bringing up the rear is Penelope—she’s thirteen. I’ve met her twice.”

I stare at him, mouth slightly open, trying to keep it all straight in my brain. “You have five sisters?”

“And five brothers—my father is a very busy man.” Went shakes his head on a scoff. “If marrying and knocking up women half his age was an Olympic sport, Davino Fiorella would be buried under a pile of gold medals.”

“The two of you aren’t close?” I think about my own father. How much he loved Luke. Abbey is his pride and joy, but Luke was his legacy. His only son—meant to carry on after he was gone. Run the ranch. Be The Barrett of Barrett Valley. Losing him was devastating.

He gives me another bitter half smile. “I’m one of the few things my parents have ever been able to agree on.”

The way he says it makes me want to apologize again for some reason. Before I can ask him what he means, Went leans down to plant a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth. “Try to get some sleep,” he says, gently closing the subject. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I have one more question,” I tell him while I settle deeper into the cradle of his arms.

“Okay.” He says it quietly, like he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions but can’t quite figure out how to tell me no.

“Does this count as riding in a limousine?”

Remembering my bucket list, a slow, sexy grin spreads across his face. “We just did a hell of a lot more thanride, Sunshine…” Lifting a hand off my hip, Went finds mine and lifts it to his lips. Kissing the inside of my wrist, he tucks it against his chest. “But, yeah—it counts.”

FOUR

WENTWORTH

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTES JULY 2019

“What do you think?”the blonde asks before pulling the neckline of her already low-cut top even lower and shoving her surgically enhanced tits in my face. “Should I get it here?”

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