I mock glare at her, even as laughter tries to bubble up inside of me.
She’s using my own logic against me.
Natalie works part-time as a waitress as she studies to become a nurse, refusing to let her father support her even if he easily could, and has offered to many times.
She’s very stubborn and independent in that way.
The other day, when she tried to pay for our meal, I told her she couldn’t because she needed every last cent for college.
She’s not like me, forgoing college to try and grind out a living in the world of freelance work.
“Get a refund,” I murmur.
“Nah uh. That’s not how it works. So either you go or I’ve wasted one hundred perfectly good dollars.”
“Nat. That’s too much.”
“So what’s it to be?”
“I think it will be a great experience,” Mom says. “When you see yourself professionally photographed, you’ll realize how beautiful you really are, Kelly.”
I sigh, glancing at Mom and then Kelly, in their supportive expressions.
I feel like I don’t have a choice.
And maybe – just maybe – they’re right.
“Okay. I’ll go. But only because I love you two so freaking much.”
“Yay.” Kelly throws her arms around me. “I know you won’t regret it.”
I laugh drily. “What do you mean? I regret it already.”
But I’m only kidding.
Truthfully, part of me is excited… the part, that is, that’s buried beneath a mass of swirling nerves.
Chapter Two
Kaleb
I stand on the balcony of my penthouse apartment, looking over the city and taking in a long breath.
It’s been two years since I took in the scope of the city like this.
Before I moved to Thailand for my charity work, I would often stand here after a hard workout session and force myself to appreciate the fact that I’m up here, the whole city before me, instead of in an orphanage wondering if I’d ever amount to anything.
I’ve just returned from Natalie’s apartment, dropping her off after our reunion dinner.
I love how easy our relationship is. She always knows I’m going to be there for her, the way I was countless times when she was growing up, but she also accepts there’s some wildness in me, some darkness, and I can’t always fulfill the role of two parents, as well as I’d like.
But shit, look at her.
She’s acing her studies. She’s determined to support herself even if she knows I’d happily do it for her.
I must’ve done something right.
My gaze flits to the horizon, to the setting sun and the way the ocean twinkles.
It calls to me, the water, willing me to leave the city again and find another project.
The gyms in Thailand are all up and running, self-sufficient, and my real estate business – which was funded by my MMA winnings – pretty much runs itself with the right people in place.
I need a new project, something to aim at. For a second, I think about a family, the woman of my dreams I gave up searching for a long time ago…
But it’s impossible. She doesn’t exist. I’ve always felt sure I’d know her when I saw her, and I never found her.
My thoughts are jolted when the buzzer cuts through the penthouse. I turn and pull open the glass doors, striding down the hallway, over the plush rugs to the intercom.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Russ says.
I smirk. “Alright, I’ll buzz you up. I’ll be on the balcony.”
“Alright.”
I’m looking forward to seeing Russ, my oldest friend from my early fighting days. We met when we both started wrestling in high school, and then we joined the same MMA gym together back when MMA gyms were just starting to become a thing. Before that, mixed martial artists trained all the separate skills at various gyms.
And we still do that, to specialize, but it was good to have a place to gather all the different skills.
Russ has a key, so I return to the balcony and take a couple of beers from the fridge, designed so it looks as though it’s opening from inside the brickwork on the wall.
A minute later, Russ appears at the door.
He’s a good foot shorter than me and much leaner. We fought at different weight classes. His head is completely shaved, and tattoos creep up his neck and down over his hands. Looking at him, a person would be forgiven for thinking he’s nothing but a bruiser, but truthfully he’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.
He grins and swaggers over, reaching down and punching me in the arm. “It’s good to see you, man. That for me?” He nods at the beer.
I smirk. “Who else?”
We sit down and look over the city, not feeling the need for a massive song and dance about our reunion.
We’ve been friends too long for that. We could go several years without seeing each other and still slip seamlessly back into our back-and-forth.