Midnight Run

Chapter Ten

Kingston didn't have time to dwell on the barista too much that week; when he got home from work on Tuesday, he tripped over a pair of beige leather pumps. He glanced at the shoes, confused for a moment, and then he looked up.

"Mom," he said, swallowing nervously. "And Sir. What are you both doing here?"

His mother crossed the small space to kiss him on each cheek. "We wanted to surprise you."

"It's certainly a surprise," Kingston admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "How'd you get in?"

"Oh, your doorman was ever so kind once he learned we were your folks."

Kingston smiled. His mother could charm a snake right out of its skin, and he had no doubt that the poor doorman hadn't stood a chance. "I wish you'd have let me know you were coming; I'd have tidied the place up a bit."

"Yes, this place," his father said, moving into the kitchenette with a frown. "Beautiful location. How much are you paying in rent each month, son?"

"The bank supplied the apartment." The lie slipped out before he could think, and Kingston held his breath, hoping his face didn't give him away.

"Humph," his father answered. "I should hope so. Didn't think I raised my boy to be frivolous or wasteful."

Kingston shook his head hurriedly. "No, sir." He glanced at the refrigerator. "I don't have much to offer—"

"Let's go out, then," his mother said, looping her arm through his as she slipped on her shoes. "Take us somewhere that's part of the real New York."

Kingston chuckled. "I haven't been here long enough to discover the 'real New York', but I'm sure we can figure something out."

Before he could open the door, his father strode across the room and put his hand on the knob. "After you, sweetheart," he said, nodding to Kingston's mother. As she slipped into the hall, his dad put his hand on Kingston's shoulder, stopping him for a minute.

"You're doing well for yourself, son. I'm glad that bank realizes what you're worth."

He forced himself to nod. "They do, sir."

"Good." His dad nodded to the hall, and Kingston followed his mom, his heart racing. Would his father still be proud of him if he knew that Kingston spent every day in a cubicle, not an office, or would he think he wasn't working hard enough somehow? Kingston shook his head, hoping that his parents wouldn't ask him too many questions about work. Even though the job had been a promotion, his father hadn't been impressed when Kingston had initially shared the news. Now that his parents were in New York, he felt a childish desire to make believe his new life was even better than he'd imagined, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep spinning stories to keep them satisfied.

Luckily, once they'd been seated in a dark corner of the steak house near his apartment, Kingston realized that his mom at least wasn't interested in hearing him talk about work. In true form, she was on his case within minutes about his lack of a social life.

"How are you ever going to meet a nice girl if all you do is work?" She lamented, picking daintily at her salad.

Kingston sighed. He was tempted to tell her about Carrie's obvious interest in him, just to get her off his case, but he knew from experience that if he mentioned a girl to his mom, he'd better be ready to propose within weeks. "I don't just work, Mom. I'm still running."

She sniffed. "You aren't going to meet a nice girl that way."

"I've joined another midnight running club," he said, splitting his attention between both his parents. "It's a lot of fun." Tearing off a piece of bread from the bread basket in the center of the table, he added, "I'm training to run the half marathon in the spring."

His father nodded approvingly. "It's important to keep your body as strong as your mind."

"But darlin'," his mother said, "I want grandbabies soon!"

Kingston sighed. "You've got Blake and Shelton," he reminded her gently. "Have you seen them recently?"

His mother sighed. "Rachel said she'd bring them over next week." Chewing on the bottom of her lip, she lowered her voice. "I wish she and Mark would figure out this nasty separation business."

Kingston's father took a swig of his gin and tonic. "I've tried to talk with her about it, but she's like a bank vault." He raised an eyebrow at his son. "Has she confided in you?"

He shook his head, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with his sister earlier that week. "No. I wish I knew what to say or do that would help her."

"Don't rush into marriage," his father said, leaning forward to look at him intently. "No matter what your mother may say, son, that's not a commitment you should take lightly."

His mother pouted. "But Kingston's got a good head on his shoulders. I'm sure he wouldn't make the same mistakes as Rachel."

Kingston wasn't so sure that Rachel had made a mistake; he wondered if she and Mark had simply fallen out of love. Given how many of his friends were divorced, he doubted that they'd all "rushed in" as his father put it. But all he said was, "Don't worry. I'm not thinking about getting married anytime soon. Besides," he offered with a gentle laugh, "I'd have to meet someone first."

His mother eyed him intently. "I wish you'd let me introduce you to—"

"No, Mom," Kingston said firmly. "No set ups. I can find my own girl, thank you very much."

"But you haven't," she pointed out reasonably.

"But I will," Kingston said, his thoughts drifting to a pair of wide brown eyes that made his heart race.