Page 21 of Against The Tide

“Forgive me if I’m not a bubble of sunshine when it comes to the Morgans.”

Of course, I should’ve known better than to bring her here. Kayla’s ability to hold a grudge is as impressive as an elephant’s memory.

“Well, this isn’t business, so maybe you can muster up a smile and soften up that hard wit?”

“Anything for you, babe.”

The word twists the dagger that’s plunged into my gut. Still, I take a deep breath and show her to the open-plan family room. Caleb’s playing a game on the TV. He’s talking a hundred miles an hour into his headset to one of his friends. Meanwhile, Iris and Scarlett are out by the pool with Callie.

“You must be hot in that suit.” I take her to the outdoor seating area. We don’t get a chance to sit before Iris comes running in one of Scarlett’s purple swimsuits. Long gone is every sweet shade of her favorite pink; all she wants is purple.

“Aunt Kayla!” she sings, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

“Definitely not hot anymore.” Kayla’s face twists into a smile, hugging Iris back, and the familiar sight is so good that it makes all the aches and pains dull.

Every second of the afternoon that ticks by makes me wonder whether maybe I should go back to DC. Maybe she’s right, I should’ve gone to her instead of Rafe. But Rafe came to me first—he and Nora practically held my hands after I got the news about Dad’s heart attack.

“You know, Carl is really worried.”

“Huh?” I jar at Kayla’s statement while she opens another bottle of water and takes a long drink. Obviously, I know that she and Carl are in constant contact because of work, but again, she sounds defensive over him rather than me or Iris. And she’s my friend, right? Isn’t she meant to be on my side regardless of what she does or doesn’t know?

Allowing my focus to flit to Caleb coming out of the house and joining the girls in the pool, I try shake away the thoughts in my head.

“He’s worried about you and Iris,” she reiterates, eyes widening into a concerned gaze. “You must know how this looks…leaving him just as that article comes out. A federal investigation is…”

The conversation is blowing my brains like her expression tells me hers is apparently already blown.

“He hit me!”

“And he’s sorry.” She goes to drink some more water, but the beach ball Caleb and the girls are playing with hits her square in the face, sending water everywhere.

“Karma.” The statement bursts from my mouth, pushed out by the frenzied hammering of my pulse.

“Excuse me?” Kayla pulls a packet of tissues from her purse, shaking one out to pat her face dry.

“Why are you so worried about what it looks like for Carl?”

“Have you thought about what it looks like for you and Congressman Morgan if it comes out that—” She pauses to pat her mouth and chin dry. “—that you ran away with him?”

All those confusing off feelings make complete sense when she drops the tissue onto the table. The ground falls from beneath me as realization hits home.

“You’re not here for me, are you?”

“I’m here to make sure that the situation doesn’t get out of hand. You need to come back and play happy families again.”

“While you sleep with my husband?”

“What?” Kayla shakes her head, getting to her feet with a slight stumble when her heels slip off a paving stone and stab into the grass. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You were my friend, Kayla.” That’s the most disappointing part—she’s really the only person I have left. I loved her like the sister I never had. “Look at me. Look at what he did to me. Is this what you want?”

Kayla studies my face with a stubborn set to her own that tells me that she’s not listening to a single thing I’m saying. It’s heartbreaking to look at her and feel everything but love and happiness.

“Why, Kayla? I don’t…you can do so much better.” It stings that I can say it to her, but it’s taken me this long to figure it out for myself.

Years of being told that I need to measure to a standard that he imagined and expected all boil down to this moment of clarity, where it’s me telling myself that I can do better. I deserve more, if not for myself, then for my daughter.

“You should leave,” I tell her, taking a deep breath to steady myself as I ignore the twisting and knotting of my stomach. The sad reality of my life. “I’m not going back to DC, and if you think that some speculative article is his biggest concern…you should think about what it looks like for his wife to look like this. Proof that he isn’t the man he makes himself out to be.”