KIMBERLY

so calm?"

I looked up from my magazine, wincing—for the millionth time—by the sudden movement. "Is there something so wrong with seeing me at ease?"

Jace only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at my annoyed tone. "Try again."

Rolling my eyes, I returned to the magazine. My mind was barely processing the words on the page, but anything was better than looking at him right now. Not while my brain wasn't thinking straight.

"Would you rather me think about how fucked up everything is and overreact?" My tone was snappy, masking the deep guilt I was feeling inside.

After we went back home from the hospital yesterday, Jace took care of me. He made sure I took pain killers. Made sure I was drinking plenty of fluids. Made broccoli-cheddar soup for me, while complaining about how disgusting broccoli is. Flipped my pillows so I was always resting on the cold side.

But all I could think about is how I didn't want to feel anything for him, hence my bitchy attitude.

Even though my delivery was harsh, there was truth to what I was saying. I lost a shit ton of sleep thinking about the events of yesterday, not that I would tell him. Fear wasn't a feeling that ruled my life, but when it made an appearance, it knew how to fuck me up.

I could count the number of times I was scared in my life on one hand.

So, for someone like Miles to be the reason I was scared was embarrassing.

"Don't be like this, Kimberly."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Then, don't act like a child."

I ignored him, flipping the page so it looked like I was reading. Acai has three times more antioxidants than blueberries? Absolutely riveting.

The magazine was ripped from my hands. "Hey!"

It was an absolute mistake for me to look up. His commandeering presence was palpable as he leaned over the table. Images—ones that I really, really didn't want to visualize—were going through my head.

"Talk to me." My second mistake was looking up into his warm brown eyes. Fuck.

"About what?" I crossed my arms stubbornly.

He narrowed his eyes, exhaling deeply. "You still haven't told me who the fuck did that to you."

"Why do you care?"

If looks could kill, I didn't stand a chance at making it through this staring contest. But my stubborn ass was still determined to try.

"Why are you so infuriating?" It's a miracle that I was still alive.

"Because I like it," I shrugged nonchalantly. "It adds a little flair to my character."

"You drive me insane."

"The same thing applies to you."

"You're insufferable."

"Have you met yourself?"

"I feel like strangling you ninety-percent of the time."

"I wish you would."

"You don't know how badly I want to fuck you."

With that, I shut up. This was bad. The opposite of what I was trying to achieve through this evasion method.

Clearing my throat, I decided to answer his original question. I was desperate to do anything to prevent the escalation of this conversation. "I went back to Ball & Chain to give the last few pills I had back to my dealer."

"Why..." I rendered the man speechless with my questionable decision-making skills. There's gotta be a talent in here somewhere.

"I know. I know. I don't need to hear the judgment," I waved him off. "I'm stubborn and prideful, as you clearly love pointing out. I wanted to make a statement that I didn't need him and that I could quit. It got a little physical and I hit my head."

"Name?"

"Kimberly Nyla Astor-Kingston," I replied, annoyed. "I didn't hit my head that hard."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something in Italian. Based on what I could make of it, it sounded like something along the lines of 'fucking hell'. "I meant his name, idiot."

"Hey," I complained defensively. "Don't call me an idiot. I have a head injury."

"You're the one who just said 'I didn't hit my head that hard'," he mimicked my voice terribly, might I add. "And, answer the question."

"Miles... something."

"You don't know his last name?"

"He was my fucking drug dealer"—and ex-fling, I added mentally—"He didn't really give out his last name for fun."

"Fine." Jace finally dropped the subject, bringing up his wrist to check the time. Was that a new watch? "It's time for your meds."

He reached into his desk to pull out two pills of Tylenol and handed me a bottle of water, but my focus was on the watch.

The sleek black watch with the white-gold accent looked familiar.

"Is that a new watch?" I asked, absently accepting the bottle of water and pills.

He looked down to my current object of interest before nodding. "Your dad dropped by yesterday and gave it as a late-wedding gift. It's apparently from his collection and he wouldn't take no for an answer, so I eventually accepted."

♕♕♕

"Angel, I know I said I love you, but I'm not breaking into your parent's room," Marcel groaned, still taking my hand as I led him to the master bedroom.

I rolled my eyes playfully, slapping his arm. "It's not 'breaking in' if I live here."

"Well, I don't live here." He tried pulling me back.

But I was a woman on a mission.

"Marcy, you know I think you look great as is, but your outfit just needs something..." I trailed off, letting go of his hand to look through my parent's closet.

He started looking around like he was going to get caught doing drugs or something. "Can you find this missing piece somewhere else?"

"Relax, baby, my parents love you." I started opening the drawers until I came across what I was in here for. "Here." I pulled out the platinum Rolex with the ice-blue dial and the black Rolex with the white-gold trim. "Choose one."

He gave me one of those 'I can't believe you're real' looks. The ones that made my heart burst out of my chest and explode in whatever room I was in. I was a mush—a disgustingly mushy mush—when he looked at me like that.

"Kimmy... I can't."

"Shush and choose one." My tone left no room for arguing. It was a tone that he was so familiar with.

Reluctantly, he pointed to the ice-blue one. "I know you hate matching, but I think it's small enough that people wouldn't notice."

"You know me so well, baby," I joked, putting the black one back so I could fasten the blue one on his wrist.

"This probably costs more than my dad's car," he groaned again, regretting not running out of the room the second I let go of his hand.

"I wouldn't do anything to get you in trouble." I pulled his face into my hands and squeezed his cheeks. They were once so warm and full of life, but all the chemo and meds were draining the color out of him. "Plus, my dad's always talking about how he wants to give one of his watches to his son-in-law."

He brought up his hands to squeeze my cheeks back. "I hate to break it to you, angel, but we're not married." The words came out muffled from my hold on his face, but I couldn't help the smile that broke out.

"Fine," I reluctantly amended, pecking his lips. "Just wear it for tonight, and you can return it. But, I'm keeping it aside so my dad knows which one to give you when we get married."

A sad look passed over his eyes, but I knew Marcel better than I knew myself. I've loved him long enough to not need to hear him to know what he was thinking. After all, it was what I was thinking too.

Neither of us wanted to admit that the 'when' should be 'if'.

♕♕♕

"Kimberly!"

Jace's voice brought me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize how out-of-it I was until I registered the warm stream running down my face. I reluctantly looked up to my husband's face to see a mixture of worry and confusion.

"If you're not comfortable with it, I can return the watch," he stated, gently.

I shook my head, wiping the tears.

"No, it's fine."

He didn't believe me for a single second, within reason. My voice cracked during the statement, completely betraying how I actually felt about the situation.

The memories hit me like a shit ton of bricks.

It's been a while since I lost myself in the past. Lost myself in him.

But, that's not what hit me the most. The tears currently escaping my eyes were due to one thing and one thing only... something that I didn't even want to admit to myself. I stroked the necklace, relishing in the temporary peace it brought me.

Jace's eyes flitted to the motion, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He opened his mouth, only to be cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Without wasting another second, Savannah entered with a familiar face trailing behind her.

You've got to be fucking kidding me? Was I ever going to catch a fucking break?

♕♕♕

The three of us were silently staring at each other for who knows how long.

Well, the two of them were looking at my furious expression with some semblance of fear. Savannah, who had left the room five minutes ago, was probably holding a glass up to the door to hear what was about to go down.

"Kim—" Darius Andrews tried speaking, only to stop when I shot him a glare.

Why my ex-boyfriend was in a room with me and my husband was beyond me, but this shit had Ashton's stench all over it.

Darius and I dated for about a year in high school before the ass cheated on me. Ashton and Darius were friends before the incident, and given Ashton's aversion to strangers, they stayed friends after. I did my best to avoid him, considering how he was associated with bad memories.

I had forgiven him for cheating—well, as much as I forgave someone for fucking me over—but I still kept my distance.

The only time he and I were ever in a room together was when Ashton would invite him and his sister over for a family dinner or if he and I happened to be in Ash's apartment at the same time.

But, it's been months—almost a year—since I last saw the guy and it's safe to say I haven't spent any time thinking about him.

He hasn't changed much over the years, besides building up on his muscles. His easy-going smile was not as I remembered, now twinged with the burden of responsibilities. Darius kept his hair buzzed, always complaining about how long it took to take care of his tight curls. His dark skin stood out against his ugly-ass pale yellow shirt.

I don't know what I ever saw in him, considering that horrendous sense of fashion.

Well, in all honesty, I never really saw anything in him. He and I were friends, who happened to start dating for one reason: it made sense.

He was hot, popular, the captain of the basketball team, and the golden-boy of the school.

And—not to sound conceited—I was Kim Astor.

We just made sense.

Well, until he fucked up.

I turned to Jace, who started looking between the two of us. "Explain why the fuck my ex-boyfriend is in here right now."

"Ex-boyfriend?" My husband raised his brows to his hairline. "Your cousin conveniently left that out."

"I fucking knew it," I snarled.

"Ashton called when you were resting yesterday and recommended having someone to look out for you when I'm not around to avoid that." He pointed to the bandage-covered stitches on my head.

"First of all," my tone was poisonous, "I don't need a fucking babysitter. Second of all, my ex was the only viable candidate? And, third of all, don't trust my dumbass cousin. I love him, but the ass loves drama."

Darius decided to speak up at that point. "That would be my fault. I apologize. Ash knows that I've been in need of a job recently. But, I didn't know that Ash didn't tell you about our"—he gestured to the both of us—"history."

Job?

Like most of the people I went to high school with, Darius came from a rich family. The man—all of a sudden—needs a job now... Something was up.

"Ash is asking for a bitch-slap if he thinks it's a good idea to have my cheating ex be my babysitter," I huffed.

"Kim," Darius groaned.

"Cheating?" Jace asked at the same time, something wholly dark in his tone.

I let out a breath.

My pounding headache wasn't getting any better and being surrounded by these jackasses wasn't helping. I was this close to breaking the heel off of my stiletto to give them a fraction of the pain I was feeling.

This was too much.

Too fucking much.

Without another word, I stood up and walked away.

***

another short chapter alert.

i love their banter in the beginning, and we're finally going to find out more about kim's background and shit.

also, i seriously didn't realize how long this is (like the actual book).

i should probs add 'slow burn' to the tags rip.

love, zia.