Sharing You

Prologue

Kamryn

September 2, 2014

THE SOUND OF three familiar, masculine laughs stopped my retreat to my room, and I quietly tiptoed back toward the study. What are Charles and his dad doing here? I peeked through the door they had left cracked and was thankful for the darkened hallway. I knew from experience they wouldn’t see me unless they were actively searching, and since all of them were huddled around a far table with drinks in their hands, I figured I was fine.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and glanced at the time before dimming the screen again. Charles wasn’t supposed to pick me up for another four hours, and we’d just had brunch with his family. Couldn’t he go away for a while?

Charles. Good God, what had he even changed into? He had brown loafers—no socks—khaki shorts, and a dark pink polo on. And yeah, the collar was popped. His dark blond hair had that “I just got out of bed” look, but I’d had the unfortunate pleasure of watching him spend twenty-five minutes to make it look that way that morning, so it had lost its appeal.

I’d been dating Charles York since our junior year of high school, and it was safe to say that over the last six years . . . I’d really come to loathe him. His clothes, his too-perfect bleached smile, his fake tan, his laugh that had to be louder than everyone else’s in the room, the fact that he was the third Charles York, his signature silver BMW he upgraded for the newer version every two years like it was a cell phone or something. And this was probably the worst part of all—he was so close with my dad that he was having drinks with him on his own time.

I’m sure most girls dreamed of a man their parents would absolutely adore, but my parents hadn’t exactly given me a choice when it came to Charles. I had to date him. It was a match made in “Kentucky Derby Heaven,” as my mother liked to say. And no, I’m not joking. Both our families were from the Brighton Country Club neighborhood in Lexington, and every year for the last fifteen years either Charles’s family or my family has had a horse win the Kentucky Derby. Our parents were always talking about combining our stables, and I was beginning to think I’d already been sold off to the York family to make this happen.

Why not just break up with him and tell my parents to shove it? Uh, yeah . . . not so easy in my family. I was a Cunningham; in the racing world, we were pretty much royalty. My parents were Bruce and Charlotte, and as the only daughter of the perfect power couple, I was expected to be perfect as well. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, and a perfectly planned life. That perfectly planned life included marrying Charles someday. And breaking up with Charles didn’t just mean ruining the plans both our families had for us; it would be devastating to the racing world. Mom’s words, not mine—she’s a little dramatic.

It hadn’t always been awful with him. We’d grown up together, I’d crushed on him for as long as I could remember before we actually started dating, and we’d been friends our entire lives. When I say entire, I mean I’m praying I burned all the evidence of our moms bathing us together when we were babies. Charles had always been funny, incredibly smart, and attractive—probably too attractive for his own good, because, unfortunately, he knew how good he looked. It wasn’t until after we began dating that he started turning into the guy I couldn’t stand to be around . . . or maybe it was just that I began realizing how much I hated the world I’d grown up in. That world was full of people with too much money, a place where unfaithful and backstabbing relationships were the norm, where you couldn’t have a conversation unless you were gossiping or slandering someone, and where friends and enemies were one and the same. Yeah . . . now that I think back on it, Charles hadn’t changed at all when we started dating, it was just that it also happened about the same time I decided I needed to get away from Kentucky . . . away from everything I’d ever known.

I started pulling away from him as much as my parents would allow when he went away to college and thankfully I only had to see him about two days out of the month, unless he was on break. Once he graduated and came back home, I’d just had to stomach it. Because doing anything that wasn’t on my parents’ planned-out path wasn’t an option. I’d found that out the hard way one night when my mom overheard me mentioning my desire for a life without Charles . . . I can’t imagine how she would have reacted if she’d known I’d planned to take a very different path from the one she’d made for me.

The only thing I’d ever done for myself was go to culinary and then pastry school, and that had been a huge to-do in our house. The only people who had supported me were our maid, Barbara, and, surprisingly, Charles. I’d been so taken aback and grateful—Charles’s support had gotten my parents to finally agree to it—that it’d been the only time since we started dating that I’d ever called him by his preferred name, Chad. He hated the name Charles, and I think that is why I refused to call him anything else.

Charles said my name, and I leaned closer to the door in time to catch whatever his dad had begun saying.

“You’re sure she’ll say yes? I don’t know what’s going on with that girl of yours, Bruce, but she’s seemed rather . . . hesitant lately.”

Say yes to what?

“I’m sure of it, she knows her place. She knows how important this merger is.”

“I don’t know . . .” Chuck, Charles’s father, began.

“Dad, stop. She’ll marry me. Like Bruce said, she knows her place, and thank God for that. The sooner she gets off this pipe dream of owning a bakery the better.”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprising, seeing as you’re the only one who encouraged Kamryn to go to those food schools.”

Charles laughed and took a sip of his drink. “No offense to your home and wife, Bruce, but I want a wife who knows her place in my home as well as by my side.”

Chuck and Dad both snickered. I continued to stand there with my jaw on the floor.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Charles went on. “Charlotte’s great for business and public outings, but that woman couldn’t cook if her life depended on—”

Dad cut him off. “Which, of course, means Kamryn couldn’t cook before she went to those schools.”

Charles clucked his tongue and pointed his hand—the one holding his scotch glass—at Dad. “Precisely.”

“Smart kid you’ve got there, Chuck.” Dad laughed into his glass before taking another sip. “Damn smart kid.”

“So you aren’t letting her open up the bakery? Your mother and I have been worried about your judgment in letting her do this.”

“Hell no.” Charles laughed, shooting his dad a look like he was crazy. “There’s a reason I haven’t let her open one yet—I’m just trying to keep her happy until we’re married.”

“And you’ll be proposing tonight?”

My eyes about popped out of my head at my dad’s question.

“Yup, gonna push for that whole ‘we’ve been together forever, there’s no point in having a long engagement’ thing. My guess, end of the year, we’ll be married and we can stop dicking around with this merger.”

“Sounds good,” Dad said, and the men stood up to shake hands across the table.

I made sure to keep quiet as I quickly backed away from the door and took off for my room. Get married to him? Oh, hell no. I might have stayed with him to keep Mom and Dad happy and off my back for the last six years, but no way in hell was I going into a lifelong commitment with him. And I couldn’t believe he would encourage me to go to the cooking schools just so he’d have a wife from the fucking fifties!

“Cook for you?” I hissed as I shut my bedroom door and hurried to the closet. “I’ll cook for you.” Grabbing a small suitcase, I threw it onto the bed and opened it up. “With rat poison.”

I buzzed Barbara before grabbing only a few of my favorite clothes and shoes and tossing everything in there. I was throwing the necessities from my bathroom in a small bag when I heard Barb’s voice in my room.

“What can I do for ya, baby girl . . . Kam, honey?”

“Barb!” I apparently still hadn’t graduated from hissing. “He’s proposing!”

Her eyes were wide as she looked at the too-full suitcase. “I thought we were already expecting that?”

“Tonight! And he just told Dad that we would be married by the end of the year. That’s barely four months away!”

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She smiled sadly and sat on my bed. “I knew this day was coming, but I’m not ready for it yet.”

“Me neither, but, Barbara, I can’t—I can’t keep doing this. Six years with him, and twenty-two years of not being able to live. I have to go.”

“I know.”

“It was one thing to continue dating him while he was away at school and I was trying to save money for this, but it’s an entirely different thing to be engaged to him. And you know Mom and Dad won’t let me say no!”

“I know,” she said again, and there were tears falling down her plump cheeks.

“Barb, don’t cry, please don’t cry!” God, now I was going to start crying. Barbara had been my parents’ maid since before I was born, she’d taken care of me growing up, and she was the reason I’d wanted to go to culinary school. She was the reason all of this was about to be possible, and she was the only reason I’d followed my parents’ path as long as I had. She had also been what my mom used against me to keep me with Charles.

I’d been telling Barb about a date with him I’d just come back from and how torturous it had been, and when I’d gone to my room a few minutes later Mom was in there waiting for me. After reminding me of how much my relationship with Charles meant to both our families, she’d asked, “You don’t want to see anything happen to Barbara, now, do you?” The threat had been clear. And it had been enough to keep my mouth shut and keep me with Charles over the next few years as Barb and I began preparing for this night.

Dad refused to pay for the schools, not like I expected him to or would have allowed it. I’d gotten loans and simultaneously started asking Barb for her help. There was no way for Barb or me to bet on the races without word getting out that we were doing so, and Dad would have flipped if he’d known. I didn’t want to use his money for anything, so I’d sold a few things Mom would never notice were missing from my room and used that money for Barb’s brother to start placing bets for me. All the bets started off small, since I hadn’t sold anything of much value, and over the last four years they’d multiplied like you wouldn’t believe.

I’d paid off the loans first before replacing what I’d originally sold from my room, and then continued to place higher and higher bets. The last race I’d bet on—and won—I’d put down close to six figures. You get the right races, and the right pockets with horses competing, you can make a fortune. And that’s just what I’d been doing.

Barbara and I had spent many nights planning this day, but like she’d said, we weren’t expecting it to happen just yet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away some tears. “I’m happy for you, baby girl, really I am. I’m just gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I hugged her fiercely and let a few tears escape as she held me. She would be the only person from this entire state I would miss. “As soon as I get to Oregon and get settled, I’ll get a phone and call you so you’ll have my number.”

She nodded and cleared her throat as her arms left my waist to grip my hands. “You can do this, Kamryn. I just know it. You have the money, you have the smarts, you have the talent, and you have the drive. Get away from here, baby girl, and don’t come back to this life. This life is its own form of prison.”

It was. God, it was.

“Do you have everything packed?”

“I do.”

“All right.” She cleared her throat and her lips quivered as she spoke. “I’m going to call my brother and have him come right over to take you to the train station. I just pulled some cookies out of the oven. You go take some and a glass of milk to your daddy. Your mother is at her tennis lesson and then going to a massage, so she won’t be back for some time now. By the time you’re done sweet-talking your daddy, Ray will be here and I’ll have your suitcase and money waiting in his car.”

I took a deep breath and stood when she did. “I’ll miss you, Barbara. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Go live.”