Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

I get that.

A lot.

“Will you tell me what you ask and what he says?”

He tilts his head back and forth. “Yes. Unless you realize you don’t want the answer, then no.”

“Pass Rip over,” I say, no hesitation.

“You sure?” Farrow wonders.

“Yeah. But if you start a fight, don’t be shocked if I jump in.”

He rolls his eyes into a short laugh. “Okay.”

I take Ripley, and Farrow slides back his seat, stands, and pushes the chair in. He’s relaxed as he ambles towards my dad’s therapist. I have a good view, and I almost wish I had a superpower to see the future. Just to know for certain what happens next.

40

FARROW KEENE

I’m basically “on-duty” while “off-duty” and I click my mic and alert the temps, “No one follow me.” I don’t need a bodyguard if I’m alone, even if a few cameramen hop after me.

Banks stays to protect Maximoff, and as I pass him, a petite old woman approaches and starts speaking in Italian like he can understand.

The Moretti brothers have been mistaken as locals all week, and it doesn’t help that some of the guys on SFE keep asking them to translate. I’ve had to hear the Morettis say “I don’t speak Italian” and “Italian-American slang isn’t the same thing” too many times for my sanity. But it’s even worse for them, and the aggravation wrinkles Banks’ forehead.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, ma’am,” he says, frustrated.

I side-step around him and focus on my destination.

Kaden Simmons.

See, I missed Nate. I missed Rowin. I missed the signs that told me their intentions were shit, and my gut already says to be cautious around Kaden. Hell, he would’ve been out of Maximoff’s stratosphere a long time ago, had I not chosen to protect Maximoff’s dad first.

That’s not happening anymore.

I’m done.

And I need to figure out where Kaden lands in the shitty person spectrum.

Sitting leisurely on the fountain edge, he’s dressed in a sweater-vest during the height of summer. But he hasn’t even broken a sweat. He digs a spoon in a cup of strawberry gelato and stands when he sees me approaching.

A Canon almost hits my face, paparazzi closing in.

I’m about to tell a cameraman to back the fuck up, but in a split-second, he whirls around and bolts towards a shop. Only a handful of people can elicit that kind of reaction. And I quickly notice it’s because all the famous parents are together and browsing the shoe store.

Lily & Lo, Ryke & Daisy, Connor & Rose—they’re more famous than their children, and subsequently me. And I’m good with that.

I seize the sudden privacy and turn back to Kaden. “I don’t think we’ve actually met.” I hold out my hand, trying not to come in hot. “I’m Farrow.”

“Kaden.” He shakes my hand. “I’m looking forward to your wedding, and so you know, I’d have introduced myself earlier, but it’s not really my place. I’m letting Loren make those introductions.”

Sounds sincere, but my guards are still up. “Look,” I say. “I’m not one to really judge conflicts of interest, but I have to ask. When you took the job as Lo’s therapist, did you hesitate or think maybe it wasn’t a good idea?”

Kaden takes a casual bite of his gelato. “I assume you’re talking about the fact that I slept with Maximoff.”

Acid churns in my stomach. I’m typically not a petty person, but I’d love to throw his frozen dessert in the fountain behind him.

“Yeah, that’d be the conflict of interest.”

“As far as I know, Maximoff has had a lot of one-night stands,” Kaden says like we’re talking about the weather.

I’m not helping. I feel like I came in too casual, and I want to course correct. “As far as you know…” I repeat those words.

“From the online articles,” Kaden clarifies. “And what he told me that night. What I’m trying to say is that it’d be difficult to avoid running into one of Maximoff’s one-night stands. I don’t really see it as a conflict if it’s a common occurrence.”

My muscles flex, enraged. I want to lay him on the ground. Badly. But I have one more question.

“Do you remember your night with him?” I wonder.

Kaden blinks. “Why would you want to know that?” He looks towards Maximoff, and I step to the side, blocking his view.

“I just want to know if it was memorable for you.” My pulse thumps harder.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad…you’re engaged to him,” he says warily. “But it was a great night.”

He either doesn’t remember what happened, or he really believes that it was a good time. I don’t know which one is worse.

My ears ring. “You’re not serious.”

He winces. “Like I said, I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

I swing.

My fist lands into his cheek, and the guy tumbles back, tripping on his feet and falling into the fountain with a loud splash. He doesn’t drop his gelato.