If Love Had A Price

The multipurpose room at the YMCA looked nothing like a multipurpose room and everything like a proper ballroom. It was the small touches that counted—floral centerpieces twinkled with tiny fairy lights, and the tables lining the walls boasted a casual, elegant spread of hors d’oeuvres and mocktails. Meanwhile, dim lighting and a perfectly curated playlist comprised of lesser-known masterpieces, throwback jams, and clean Top 40 hits (for the sake of the younger attendees) contributed to the festive atmosphere.

It wasn’t The Four Seasons, but it turned out pretty dang good, considering the budget and crunched deadline.

Kris surveyed her work with a satisfied smile. It had been a crazy few days, what with yesterday’s dinner party and the last-minute scramble to shift the gala up one week, but she—they—did it. The MentHer team and volunteers had pulled together and made the event of the season happen, and the mentees were thrilled.

The girls were currently going wild on the dance floor to a mellow rock cover of the latest Ariana Grande song, courtesy of the Prophecy Kings. It was a multi-generation event, and a few fathers had braved the mosh pit to dance with their daughters while others stuck to the sidelines, no doubt worried about losing an eye to a stray flailing arm or getting stomped on by an errant heel.

Kris’s mouth tilted up at the sight.

“Kris!” Skylar waved from the dance floor, flushed and glowing in an ice-blue dress with a tulle skirt. In that outfit, she looked like Elsa from Frozen. “Come dance!”

“In a bit!” The music was so loud Kris had to tell to be heard. “I have to check in with the caterers first.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Susan bustled into view, wearing not a dress but a black sequined jacket and skirt combo that suited her perfectly. “You’re going to enjoy yourself. I’ll handle the caterers.”

“But—”

“No buts,” the director said firmly. “You’ve done more than enough. Now go dance and do whatever it is you young people do at these parties.”

There was no arguing with Susan when she was like this. “All right. But make sure you ask them not to take out the chocolate mousse—”

“Kris, go.” A gentle push accompanied the command.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Kris raised her hands in surrender.

She stepped away from the appetizer table, but instead of joining Skylar and the rest of the mentees on the dance floor, she ducked into the room across the hall where the staff had stashed their belongings.

Kris fished her phone out of her bag and cursed when she realized it was dead and that she’d forgotten her charger at home. A glance around told her there no were no stray chargers lying around, and she didn’t want to bother the other staff members for something so small.

She was hoping for a message from Nate, who said he might come tonight. He’d acted weird when they’d parted ways yesterday, and her dad hadn’t been the most welcoming host on the planet. She wanted to make sure he was okay.

The gala had only started an hour ago, though, and Nate had a shift at the cafe this morning. She’d wait a bit and ask Skylar for an update if Nate didn’t show up in the next hour.

Kris shoved her phone into her Prada and was on her way back to the multipurpose room/ballroom when she spotted someone coming down the hall. At first, she thought it was Nate, and her heart skipped a beat, but when the figure got closer, she realized she was slightly off the mark.

“Mr. Reynolds.” She hid her surprise as she surveyed Nate’s father. He had the same thick brown hair and green eyes as his son, but his skin was pale and clammy, and his hands trembled in a manner that had nothing to do with the high-blast A/C. He wore a slightly rumpled gray suit, and perspiration dotted his upper lip. Still, he looked better now than he had lying unconscious in a hospital bed. “What are you doing here?”

Stupid question. There was only one reason for him to be here.

“Is this, ah, the MentHer gala?” Michael Reynolds shoved his hands in his pockets and jiggled his foot. He hadn’t been awake the first time she saw him, but she’d met him briefly when she dropped by Nate’s house the other day.

“Yes. It’s in here.” Kris gestured toward the makeshift ballroom. “Are you all right? You seem…”

Twitchy. Jumpy. Nervous.

“Yes, yes.” Michael ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, I’m just—I’m having withdrawal issues, but I’ll get over it. Is Skylar in there?”

Of course. The paleness, the shakiness—classic withdrawal symptoms for alcoholics. Not great for the person suffering, obviously, but a clear sign that he was taking his newfound sobriety seriously. Nate still didn’t trust his father not to fall off the wagon again, but it had been weeks since Michael’s hospitalization. It was progress, and what was more, Michael had shown up for the gala. Skylar had confessed she’d invited her father but didn’t expect him to show, as he’d lost all interest in social functions after his wife died.

“Yep. Go on in.”

Kris watched Michael shuffle into the festivities. Look around. Wince. Then Skylar spotted him, and the girl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She flew across the room and hugged her father, who hesitated for the briefest moment before hugging her back. Kris couldn’t see the man’s face, but she imagined it displayed a mixture of nerves and joy.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She and her father still weren’t on normal speaking terms, though he’d stopped her before bed last night. It seemed like he’d wanted to tell her something, but all she got was a “Good night” before he disappeared into his study.

Kris shook her head and rubbed her 24K-gold-and-emerald necklace for lack of anything better to do. She was getting soft. Instead of dwelling on her relationship with her father, which had always been mediocre at best, she should be focusing on a new scheme to get rid of Gloria before November.

The only problem was, she had none. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Kris had tapped out on her creativity, but if she were honest, she was also distracted by—

“Nate,” she breathed.

It was definitely him this time, his long, sexy strides eating up the distance between them in no time. Instead of yesterday’s tux, he wore a pair of dark-wash jeans and a black blazer over a white T-shirt.

Sex personified.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she said, inhaling that delicious leather and coffee scent of his as she kissed him hello.

“I got out of work a little early.” Nate flashed a quick smile.

His color was better—he no longer looked green around the gills like he had yesterday—but his eyes lacked their usual warmth and his shoulders were so tight they were almost up to his ears.

“You okay?” Kris’s brows pulled together. “You seem tense.”

“All good. Just nervous about the shoot on Monday.” He held out his arm. “Shall we? I can already picture Sky dancing like a maniac in there.”

She laughed. “You got that right. But before we go in…did you see who came in before you?”

Nate’s quizzical smile told her all she needed to know.

“Your dad’s here,” she said softly.

Nate’s shoulders jumped up another inch. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. He got here a couple of minutes ago, and he’s with Sky now. I think…” She paused, thinking of the best way to phrase it. “He’s going through withdrawal. I’m sure you’ve noticed. I know you don’t trust him, and I don’t blame you, but he’s trying.”

No response.

Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” filtered through the multipurpose room’s doors and walls, its upbeat tempo at odds with the strained atmosphere in the hallway.

“Nate?” she prompted.

Her boyfriend rubbed his eyes, looking so tired her heart broke. “Let’s not do this right now, okay? Sky wanted him here, so I’m glad he’s here. As for all the other stuff, let’s shelve it. I just want to hang out with you and Sky, dance to bad music, and eat too many carbs.”

“Blue Hair—uh, Elijah—would probably take offense to the ‘bad music’ part.”

That earned Kris a small smile.

“He’s tough. He’ll survive.”

“True. He survived all those facial piercings.” Kris took Nate’s arm. “Okay. No tough talk tonight, only bad music and carbs.”

Skylar squealed when she saw her brother, and she dragged both him and Kris onto the dance floor. Michael, obviously not up to the task of doing the Cupid Shuffle—damn, that was a throwback—sat a nearby table, watching his daughter with indulgence and his son with trepidation.

Except for a curt nod, Nate didn’t acknowledge his father, but Kris supposed it was better than nothing.

The night flew by far too fast for her liking, and not just because she’d spent countless hours perfecting the details just for the gala to end in the blink of an eye. She may be a cold bitch sometimes, but even she was not immune to the joy and smiling faces around her.

The mentees were having the time of their lives with their dads and mentors, and that was enough. Tonight, there was no melancholy over the people they’d lost, no worries about money or school or family issues. It was all about pure, unbridled fun.

Kris didn’t even mind when a mentee spilled her soda on her new Alexander Wang dress. The girl apologized profusely, but Kris waved it off. You couldn’t see the stain on the black fabric unless you looked closely, and they invented dry cleaners for a reason.

As the party wound down, the music segued from upbeat pop into slower jams.

“I hope everyone’s having a good time,” Blue Hair said into the mic, grinning when the crowd responded with cheers and whistles. “We’re coming to the end of the night—” A chorus of boos. “But I think we should wrap this up in an appropriate fashion. Dads, this is your time to shine. It’s father-daughter dance time.”

More cheers, as well as a few groans from embarrassed teenagers.

Nevertheless, they shuffled onto the floor along with everyone else, their faces bright with smiles as The Prophecy Kings launched into a slow cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely.”

“What do you say? You up for a dance?” Nate held out his hand. “I hope this isn’t creepy, since it’s a father-daughter dance, but I don’t think couples are the theme of the night.”

Kris laughed. “We’ll make it work.”

They wrapped their arms around each other and swayed to the music. Kris spotted Skylar and Michael dancing a few feet away and smiled. She hoped things worked out with Nate and Skylar’s father. She really did.

“How are things with your dad?” Nate’s palm glided up and down her spine, and she snuggled closer to him, feeling warm and content.

“Same old, same old. We haven’t discussed our argument over Gloria, but it’ll blow over like every other argument we’ve had.” Kris didn’t want to talk about her fucked up household situation, but there was something she had to get off her chest. She lifted her head so she could look at Nate. “I’m sorry about how he treated you yesterday. He may not be around much, but he’s overprotective when it comes to my dating life.”

“That’s understandable.” Nate’s eyes were unreadable, though he continued to rub her back with long, soothing strokes. “Don’t worry about it. You are his only daughter, and even if he isn’t around much, I think he genuinely wants what’s best for you.”

“I guess,” she said, surprised by how reasonable Nate was being.

Not that he wasn’t a reasonable person by nature, but she’d just expected a little more…fire. Indignation. Instead, he was as cool and calm as if they were discussing the weather.

Wait, no, that wasn’t it. He wasn’t cool and calm. He was remote, distant in a way that he hadn’t been since…ever. Even when they’d bickered and snipped at each other in the past, he’d always been present and full of crackling passion.

That wasn’t the case now.

A thread of unease unraveled down Kris’s spine and wrapped around her stomach, squeezing until she was short of breath.

Before she could bring up Nate’s strange behavior, he spoke again. “Can I ask you something? Be honest. This isn’t a trick question.”

The unease intensified. “Okay.”

“Have your views changed on long-distance relationships?”

It was a good thing he was holding her; otherwise, Kris would’ve fallen over in surprise. Of all the things she’d expected him to ask, that had not been in her top ten or even top fifty.

But of course, she thought, a measure of relief easing her tension. Nate was thinking about their looming deadline and what would happen after Kris left L.A.

In truth, her views on long-distance relationships in general hadn’t changed. But a long-distance relationship with Nate? That was another matter. She didn’t want these next few weeks to be the last time they spoke to each other, and the thought of him moving on and dating someone else made her stomach clench in protest.

In just a few short months, she’d revealed more of herself to him than she had to anyone else in her life, and she felt connected to him in a way she didn’t think possible. Kris normally wasn’t a fairytale romance, head-in-the-clouds type of girl, but nothing about her relationship with Nate was normal—and she didn’t want it to be. It was uniquely theirs, and she didn’t want it to end.

Not at the end of the month, not ever.

The realization slammed into Kris with the force of a tidal wave. She should’ve seen it coming from a mile away—her ease in sharing her deepest thoughts and darkest secrets with him, her giddiness when his name popped up on her phone, her anticipation at seeing him again, all the dang butterflies and pounding hearts—but when it hit, it hit hard.

She was in love with Nate Reynolds.

The question was, was he in love with her?

“I…” Kris hesitated, debating how to answer. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, and her palms were slick with sweat. “I think there are merits to such relationships that I may have been blind to before.”

“Hmm.” No change in Nate’s expression. “Like what?”

She thought carefully before answering. “Like developing greater trust in the other person and appreciating the moments you get to spend together. Like learning how to communicate better and figuring out whether it’s lust or—” Love. “Something more.”

“You’ve thought about this.” There was a shadow of a smile on his lips, but the tension and remoteness remained.

Kris shrugged, hoping she looked and sounded casual. “I’m good at thinking on the fly.”

Meanwhile, her mind blared with enough alarms to make a security breach at the Pentagon look like a chill day at the park.

Love! Love! I’m in love! Shit!

“Among other things.” Nate kissed her then—a kiss so deep and soulful it quieted her inner freak-out. There was no tongue—hello, there were children around—but Kris melted all the same.

A delicate cough nudged them apart.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Skylar said, grinning. “Everyone’s wrapping up, and I wanted to say bye. Dad’s driving me home.” She gestured at Michael, who nodded at Nate but didn’t come any closer.

Smart move.

“I can take you,” Nate said.

“Nope. I’m going with Dad. You and Kris…do your thing. See you later!” With one last grin, Skylar bounded off in a flurry of tulle and wheat-colored hair.

A visual sweep of the room revealed that the party was, indeed, over. While the band broke down their equipment—Kris hadn’t realized the music had shut off—MentHer staff cleared off the tables, boxed up leftover food, and took down assorted decorations.

“I’m going to help clean up,” she said. “Talk to you tomorrow? I know you’ve had a long day, so don’t feel like you have to stay.”

“It’s all good. I’ll say hi to Elijah and help, too. I’m not tired.”

She watched Nate walk toward his friend and remembered with amusement how the first thing Nate did after they agreed to date was tell Elijah. Blue Hair had been shocked and a bit crestfallen that Kris was no longer available, but he’d quickly gotten over it—he was now casually dating another of the café’s customers, a cute pixie-like girl with green hair. They’d probably bonded over Manic Panic.

It took Kris, Nate, and a half dozen staff members and volunteers another hour to restore the multipurpose room to its former not-so-much-glory. The party rental company needed to pick up the tables and chairs, but otherwise, they did a damn good job of cleaning up.

After Kris thanked the band and bid the rest of MentHer good night, she and Nate stepped out into the mild evening chill.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” she asked. “You didn’t touch the food all night.”

“Nah. I had a big lunch.”

She fiddled with her purse, feeling uncharacteristically on edge. She wasn’t crazy. Nate was acting weird, and she doubted it had to do with Monday’s shoot.

That, combined with her big L revelation, had her all out of sorts.

“Nate, why’d you ask me whether I’d changed my mind about long-distance relationships earlier?”

His silence stretched between them, turning several feet of physical distance into miles of separation.

Kris didn’t like beating around the bush, and dammit, they had such limited time left. They needed to unscramble whatever mess had popped up between them—she might not know what it was, but she sensed it was there. It was not the time to play coy.

“Look,” she said. “I’ll be honest. When we agreed to date for the summer, I didn’t believe in long-distance relationships. I still don’t…for some people. But I think you and I…” She took a deep breath. “We could make it work. I really like you, and I’m not ready to end things yet. I’m willing to give the long-distance thing a shot if you are.”

Fuck, that had been hard to get out. At least she hadn’t said the L word out loud. She wasn’t ready for that, not when she wasn’t sure if Nate reciprocated her feelings.

There was only so much vulnerability a girl could throw out there in the space of one minute.

And when Nate opened his mouth after her little spiel, she was really freakin’ glad she hadn’t divulged her revelation of the night.

“I can’t do this.”

Not the three words Kris had wanted or expected to hear.

Nate stepped back, his expression more distant than it had been all evening, and that was saying something.

Her heart sputtered and lurched like a car running out of gas after going full speed on the Autobahn, confused as to what was happening but sure it couldn’t be anything good.

“Can’t do what?” For once, Kris couldn’t control the tremble in her voice. “The long distance or the—”

“This. Us.” He gestured between them. “I’m sorry. I like you a lot, but this has always been a short-term thing for me. I can’t do long distance. I have too much on my plate—with my family, with work—and it’s just not going to work out.”

His words were so flat and monotone they may as well have been delivered by a robot.

It was funny, how your emotions, your world, your life could change in the blink of an eye. Less than an hour ago, Kris had been exhausted but on top of the world, riding high on an event well done and kissing the man she loved.

Now, she was numb from head-to-toe—her pulse pounding and her head throbbing as her brain scrambled to make sense of the words coming out of Nate’s mouth.

Kris supposed she should say something. Scream at him, maybe? But he technically hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d told her from the start that this was a summer thing, nothing more.

We have fun together. And neither of us will be the one walking away because we have a set deadline. It’ll be a mutual thing. Clean, easy. No hard feelings.

Nate’s words from their night on the boat came back to her, drowning out the sounds in the parking lot—the beep of a car unlocking by remote, the rustling of leaves when a breeze swept by, the bass drum of her heart as it kicked at her ribcage in a tornado of fury and anger.

How could she have been so stupid? Kris had always prided herself on not letting her emotions get the best of her, but she’d allowed the attraction and connection she’d felt with Nate blind her to the truth—for him, it was only lust. He’d wanted to date her because…why? So he could have sex whenever he wanted without having to go through the effort of wooing a different girl every night? Probably. Given it had an end date, that must’ve seemed like a good deal.

It was only now that Kris realized they’d never discussed their deadline when they’d agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and she couldn’t even be upset with him because he’d told her from the beginning what to expect.

But just because she couldn’t didn’t mean she wasn’t.

Sample sale. Limited edition. Chanel.

Her previously soothing mantra had all the effectiveness of a surgeon using a butter knife instead of a scalpel. No fixing the massive crack in her foolish heart. Thankfully, her pride, though battered, remained intact, and it was that small mercy that kept her tears at bay.

“Okay.” Her voice sounded far away, like she was listening to herself through a bad phone connection. “Fine.”

Words that meant nothing, but they were all she could come up with.

Nate ran a hand over his face. For the briefest moment, his stony facade cracked, and pain shone through—a blinding, devastating slash of white-hot torment that disappeared when the shutters slammed shut once more.

“I didn’t want it to end this way,” he said. “I meant everything I told you so far. You’re amazing, but you and I, we’re not the right fit. Not for the long term. It wouldn’t be fair to keep this going when you’re—when you’re developing feelings for me. You should be with someone more like you, who can give you—”

“Don’t.” The word cracked through the air like a whip. “You don’t want to be with me? Fine. But don’t you dare tell me what I should do with my life or who I should be with. That’s not your place.”

Nate’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s been fun,” Kris said stiffly, willing her tears to hold the fuck on and wait until she got home because the one thing she couldn’t handle more than having her heart broken was letting the heartbreaker see the destruction he’d wrought. “I guess our ‘deadline’ is a moot point. Things between us are over as of tonight.”

Nate flinched. His skin paled beneath his tan, and his fists clenched and unclenched like he was straining to keep his emotions bottled up.

“This is for the best,” he said. “We don’t—”

“Spare me.” Kris made a show of digging her keys out of her purse. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. It’s been a long night.”

She didn’t wait for his reply before she walked to her car, switched on the ignition, and drove home.

She made it only a quarter of the way before her vision blurred, at which point she calmly pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the engine, and collapsed into body-wracking sobs.