Blaise was trying to tamp down his nerves as the airport limo took them to Kiara’s parents’ home for dinner. It was their first of three nights in Boston, and he was anxious about being on her home turf. He’d be meeting her friends and family, the people who knew her best, who loved her and wanted to protect her. Would they take one look at him and decide she could do better? Would they warn her that he was a fraud who would end up breaking her heart?
“Hey,” Kiara said, squeezing his hand. “Why’re you so quiet?”
“I guess I’m kind of nervous,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “Meeting your family and friends is a pretty big deal.”
She frowned. “Are you nervous about meeting my friends from school tomorrow night? Just because they went to Harvard doesn’t mean they’re snobs, babe. They’re not. They’re a lot of fun, and they’re going to love you.” She curled her hand around his bicep and squeezed. “Trust me.”
He wanted to believe her, but a nagging voice in his head told him he was fooling himself if he thought he could convince those people that he was the right man for Kiara. “If you say so.”
They pulled up to a classic brick townhouse in an upscale area. Blaise was certain the façade was deceiving. It was likely more than five thousand square feet and worth several million dollars. “This is where you grew up?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling as she squeezed his hand. “It’s a little too big for Mom and Dad now that they’re on their own, but they can’t bear to part with it. Too many good memories.”
He didn’t have many good memories of his childhood, and certainly none attached to a warm and lovely home. They’d moved a lot, living mostly in dingy apartments and low-income housing, depending on whether his old man was working.
The driver rounded the rear of the car and opened their door before retrieving their luggage from the trunk.
Blaise peeled a hundred-dollar bill from the roll in his pocket and discreetly slipped it into the driver’s hand. “Thank you.” He could tell the driver was surprised by the exorbitant tip. Guys who looked like him usually tried to cut out on the fare rather than tip well.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, tipping his hat. “Enjoy your stay in Boston.”
Blaise muttered, “I’m sure we will,” before dragging both his suitcase and Kiara’s up the stone walk.
Kiara didn’t bother to knock before turning the doorknob and calling, “We’re here!”
A sophisticated man wearing gray slacks and a pale blue cashmere sweater rounded the corner, his blue eyes lighting up when he saw Kiara. He opened his arms wide. “There she is. Come and give your old dad a hug.”
Blaise noted the similarities between them. Dr. Wagner still had dark hair peppering the silver and he was much taller than Kiara, but the family resemblance was obvious. When the older man turned his attention on him, Blaise cleared his throat and extended his hand, wishing he could have wiped his palms on his black jeans without being too obvious. “Hello, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” Dr. Wagner said, sizing him up. “Welcome.” He gestured to the grand foyer, with its high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandelier.
“Thank you.” Blaise reminded himself that while his home wasn’t as ostentatious, it was as large and expensive. He had no reason to feel intimidated. But something about the formality of the old house punctuated the point that Blaise and the Wagners were from two very different worlds.
“Oh, I thought I heard you come in,” a woman with a tapered silver bob said, rounding the corner. “I’m sorry, I would have been here to greet you, but I was out back.”
“No worries, Mom,” Kiara said, opening her arms. “We just got here.”
The two women hugged, and Blaise noted Mrs. Wagner’s crisp black dress pants and turtleneck, accompanied by a black-and-white silk Louis Vuitton scarf. She looked chic and cultured, everything his mother was not. It wasn’t fair to judge, but he couldn’t keep the comparisons from creeping into his mind.
“Mom, this is Blaise Thomas. Blaise, my mother, Kathleen Wagner.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Her smile seemed tight, almost forced. “You as well, Blaise.”
“I wished you’d agreed to stay here,” Dr. Wagner said, hugging Kiara to his side. “You know we have plenty of room.”
Kiara reached for Blaise’s hand. “I know, but we thought it would be a little easier if we stayed at the Ritz, since that’s where I’m meeting my client.” She laughed. “I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I haven’t signed him yet.”
“Ah, but you will. I have no doubt about that,” Dr. Wagner said, winking at his daughter.
“Um, I almost forgot, I have something for you.” Blaise unzipped the front pouch of his suitcase and handed her father a bottle of Chateau Montelena. He’d been trying to impress, and judging by the other man’s expression, he had.
“Thank you, Blaise. One of my favorites.”
“My pleasure.” He handed Mrs. Wagner a small gold gift bag. “Kiara mentioned you’re a collector. I’m told this is a new piece, so I’m hoping you don’t have it already.”
Mrs. Wagner withdrew the box containing the Swarovski crystal picture frame. “I don’t. It’s lovely, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He could tell Kiara’s parents were making a supreme effort to be polite to him, but his instincts told him they weren’t thrilled with her company.
“Why don’t we go into the dining room,” Kathleen said. “Janet is ready to serve appetizers.”
“Janet is our housekeeper,” Kiara explained, slipping her arm through Blaise’s. “She’s been with us since my sisters and I were little, which makes her more like a surrogate grandmother.”
“It’s about time you got here,” a stout silver-haired woman wearing a pale dress and apron said. She set a platter on the table so she could hug Kiara. “You don’t come home often enough, and when you do, you’re late. Shame on you, missy.”
Blaise grinned, feeling more comfortable in the presence of the housekeeper than Kiara’s parents. He supposed that spoke volumes.
“And who is this handsome young man?” Janet asked, peering over Kiara’s shoulder at Blaise. She fanned her face. “Mercy me, child, now I understand why you haven’t been home. You’ve been too busy with this fine specimen.”
Mrs. Wagner pursed her lips and closed her eyes, seemingly embarrassed by her housekeeper’s appraisal of their guest. “Janet, this is Kiara’s friend, Blaise Thomas.”
Blaise tried to ignore her characterization of their relationship, but he couldn’t help wondering what Kiara had told them about him. “It’s nice to meet you.” He took the housekeeper’s hand in both of us.
“You look familiar,” she said, pressing a fingertip over her lips when he released her hand. “Where have I seen you before?”
“Blaise was a boxer,” Kiara said, her gaze briefly sliding to her parents. “He’s retired now.”
“That’s it!” Janet snapped her fingers. “My grandson has a poster of you on his bedroom wall.” She flattened her hand against her chest. “Personally, I think the sport is far too violent for little boys, but my son-in-law loves it, therefore, so does my grandbaby.”
Blaise wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I’m sure he would love an autograph,” Janet said. “Would you mind?”
“After dinner, Janet,” Mrs. Wagner said before Blaise could respond.
“Blaise, what would you like to drink?” Dr. Wagner asked, claiming his spot at the head of the table.
Blaise had never needed a stiff drink more. “Scotch on the rocks would be great, thank you.” He took the seat Kiara indicated.
“That sounds good,” Dr. Wagner said. “Janet, make that two Highland Park 30. Oh, and open the wine Blaise brought.” He pointed at the bottle he’d set on the antique sideboard. “And one more of the same.”
“Right away, Dr. Wagner,” Janet said.
Once they were seated, Dr. Wagner fixed Blaise with an intense look, almost as though he were trying to read him. “Kiara didn’t mention you were a boxer. Is that how you met? Did she represent you?”
“No, sir,” Blaise said, placing the crisp white napkin in his lap. “I own the gym where Kiara works out.” He could tell they were thoroughly unimpressed. “I bought the facility just a few months ago. I’ve started to train boxers there. Eventually I think I’d like more locations.”
“That’s interesting,” Mrs. Wagner said before turning her attention to her daughter. “How is your work, dear? Still happy there?”
Kiara’s smile looked forced as she reached for her water glass. “Yes, Mom.”
“I have to admit,” Kathleen said to Blaise, “I never thought her Harvard education would lead to work as a sports agent.” She laughed lightly. “Of course, she always was an athlete. I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”
“She’s excellent at what she does,” Blaise said, squeezing Kiara’s knee under the table. “I’m sure you’re very proud of her.”
“We are.” Dr. Wagner folded his hands, resting his elbows on the table. “We just want her to be happy.”
“And I am.” Kiara smiled at Blaise. “More so now.”
Janet returned with the drinks before carrying a tray of puffed pastries around the table. “I’ll bring the salad out in a few minutes.”
“Kiara, I meant to tell you I ran into Eli’s mother in the grocery store the other day,” Kathleen said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “She tells me you and Eli reconnected recently.”
Blaise’s hand slid from Kiara’s leg at the mention of her former boyfriend. Her parents obviously liked and approved of him, probably because he was an Ivy League grad.
“I wouldn’t say we reconnected,” Kiara said, shooting her mother a warning glance. “We ran into each when we were both in Philadelphia on business a month or two ago.”
“In Philadelphia?” She laughed. “Such a small world, isn’t it? It’s almost as though fate brought you back together again.”
Blaise reached for his scotch and took a healthy swig as he tried to ignore Kiara’s concerned glance in his direction.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Kiara took a deep breath. “Same time, same place. Just a coincidence, happens all the time.”
“But he also came to see you in Arlington, didn’t he?”
Blaise knew Kathleen was just trying to stir up trouble, but he refused to give her that satisfaction. “He did, as a matter of fact.” Blaise smiled at Mrs. Wagner. “I met him at Kiara’s office.”
“You did?” She sounded surprised.
“Your informant didn’t mention that?” he asked, unable to hide his sarcasm.
Kiara pinched her lips together, obviously trying not to smile at Blaise’s jab. “He was just passing through town on business and stopped by to say hello. I wouldn’t make too much of it.”
“Especially since your daughter made it very clear she’s not interested in him,” Blaise said, regarding Kiara’s mother over the rim of his glass. Since she’d obviously decided he wouldn’t get their stamp of approval, Blaise saw no reason to pull punches.
“You shouldn’t burn your bridges,” Mrs. Wagner said to her daughter. “You and Eli had a very good thing going for a long time.”
“And now she has a very good thing going with me.” Blaise took another deep swallow. “She’s not interested in looking elsewhere.”
Dr. Wagner tried to pull his face into a look of consternation when his wife looked his way, obviously expecting him to back her up, but he couldn’t hide the amusement lighting his eyes. “Kiara has always had a mind of her own, Kathleen. She’s a grown woman and can date anyone she chooses.”
“Of course,” Kathleen said, a blush staining her cheeks as she smoothed the napkin in her lap. Meeting Blaise’s eyes, she said, “I hope you don’t think I was being rude. I just worry about my girls. Kiara’s sisters are married, with families of their own. Kiara is my baby and the only one still single, so I guess I focus too much attention on making sure she finds the right man.”
“The right man?” Blaise couldn’t help but ask, “Define for me, if you wouldn’t mind, who you think would be the right man for your daughter, Mrs. Wagner?”
Kiara seemed a little uneasy about Blaise challenging her mother, but she reached for her glass instead of intervening.
“Well…” Kathleen pursed her lips, looking at Kiara. “She’s very strong-willed, as I’m sure you know, so he’d have to be someone who could handle a strong woman.”
Blaise smiled at Kiara. “That’s one of the things I love most about her.”
“And he’d have to be confident and self-assured. She’s obviously successful in her own right, and her career aligns her with wealthy, handsome athletes, many of whom aren’t shy about making a play for her.”
Blaise had already made his feelings on that clear to Kiara, and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise just to score points with her parents. Blaise reached for Kiara’s hand. “I’m not going to lie—your daughter is an incredible woman. She’s probably better than I deserve. I know that.”
“Blaise, that’s not true.” Kiara brushed her lips across his cheek. “You don’t realize how amazing you are.”
Her parents watched the exchange with curiosity.
Blaise said, “Could she meet someone better suited to her someday?” He shrugged, trying to act as though the mere thought of that didn’t cut deep. “Perhaps. And if she does, I’ll find a way to wish her well. But I refuse to waste a single moment with her worrying about the future. That has a way of taking care of itself.”
Kathleen looked chagrined. “I suppose you’re right. Kiara can take care of herself, but I’m of a different generation. I’d like to know that she also has a man who can take care of her, should the need arise.”
“Mom, I—”
Blaise cut Kiara off by squeezing her hand under the table. “Mrs. Wagner, should your daughter choose to spend her life with me, I’m more than capable of taking care of her. But you’re right, she can take care of herself.”
“I’m sorry,” Kathleen said, shaking her head. “I guess I just don’t know enough about your former profession to gauge your income.”
Smirking, Blaise said, “Let’s just say that for the past fifteen years, I earned more than the C.E.O. of a Fortune 500 company. Does that put your mind at ease?” Blaise had never flaunted his wealth, but he knew he wouldn’t gain the Wagners’ approval until they understood that he wasn’t just some washed-up fighter.
Kathleen’s mouth dropped open as her gaze flitted around the table. “I would never be so ill-mannered as to ask about how much money you made, but seriously? Boxers earn that much?”
Blaise chuckled. “Heavyweight champions do, ma’am. That was a title I was proud to own at various times throughout my career.”
“Wow,” she said, adjusting her scarf. “I just had no idea.”
“Now that you do,” Dr. Wagner said to his wife, “can we stop being so uncouth and talk about something other than how much money our guest earns?”
“Of course.” Kathleen shook her head, with a smile teasing her lips. “Blaise, I’m sorry. You must think I’m dreadful.”
“No, ma’am,” Blaise said, softening when he looked at Kiara. “I think you’re just trying to protect your daughter. That’s something we have in common.”
***
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, so when Kiara suggested Blaise retire to the family room with her father to watch a hockey game, he wasn’t apprehensive.
They’d settled in and were focused on the game when Dr. Wagner said, “Can I tell you how impressed I am with the way you handled my wife? Once Kathleen gets started, it’s not easy to shut her down. Kudos.”
Blaise laughed. “I just wanted you both to know that I care about Kiara. I want to take care of her, not that she’d ever let me.”
“I hope you won’t be offended by this, but I’ve been a psychologist for many years. I’m able to see a person’s emotional scars as easily as most people see physical scars.”
Shifting in his seat, Blaise prayed Dr. Wagner wasn’t going where he feared he might be.
“You were nervous when you came in, almost as though you were facing a firing squad. Can I ask why?” Dr. Wagner took a sip of his espresso. “You’re obviously a confident young man. You’ve been at the top of your game, professionally, so why were you nervous about meeting us?”
Blaise could have tried to sugar-coat it, but he knew he couldn’t fool someone who was used to delving inside people’s heads to get to the truth. “My upbringing was very different from Kiara’s. My parents weren’t at all like you and Mrs. Wagner. I guess I was concerned about fitting into your family.” He didn’t want to overstep, so he added, “I mean, I guess I just wanted you to like me.” That made him sound like a new kid at school, anxious to make friends, but it was too late to take it back.
“Do you still have a relationship with your parents?”
“Such as it is.” Blaise had no intention of airing his dirty laundry with Kiara’s father.
“They must be very proud of you.”
“I don’t know.” They were proud of how much money he’d earned. They were proud of the house and car he’d bought them, the vacations he’d paid for, but they’d never claimed to be proud of him.
“It’s hard to spend your life looking for approval and never get it, isn’t it?”
Blaise swallowed. There was no way he could answer that question without sounding pathetic.
“My father was a harsh man,” Dr. Wagner said. “Very judgmental. He expected the best from me and my brothers. Nothing less would do.”
Blaise wanted to ask for more details, but that would be rude, so he remained silent. He’d never expected to be able to relate to a world-renowned psychologist, but it sounded as though their starts in life had been eerily similar, and Blaise wanted to hear more.
“I was always a failure in his eyes.” Dr. Wagner sighed. “Nothing was ever good enough, so eventually I stopped trying to impress him. I went through a rebellious period, dropped out of school, and ran away from home.”
“Really?” Blaise couldn’t have concealed his shock if he’d tried. He never would have imagined Dr. Wagner had hit road bumps along the way to his success.
“Really.” Dr. Wagner laughed at Blaise’s disbelief. “I took three years off school and worked every crappy job I could find to keep a roof over my head before I finally realized I wasn’t punishing my old man. I was punishing myself.”
“I guess so.” Dr. Wagner was obviously sending him a message, and Blaise got it, loud and clear.
“That’s when I returned to school, worked my butt off to make up for lost time, got a scholarship, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Interesting story, Dr. Wagner. Thanks for sharing it with me.” Blaise knew that wasn’t the kind of thing two people typically shared at a dinner party, during their first meeting.
“Please call me Andrew. And you’re welcome.” He smiled at Blaise. “I told you about my experience because I sense there’s a part of you still seeking approval. That usually stems from one’s childhood, parents who made you feel you’re not good enough. Not worthy.”
God, it’s no wonder this man is considered one of the best. He’d hit the nail on the head. Hh
“Blaise, you’re a grown man. You know you’re worthy. You proved that on a global stage when you claimed your title. You proved that at my dinner table tonight when you put my wife in her place.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure which was more impressive, but you definitely earned my respect for the latter. Kathleen’s too.”
“I appreciate that.” Blaise’s words seemed inadequate. He wanted to tell Andrew that he appreciated him making him feel worthy of Kiara, but he couldn’t find words that wouldn’t sound trite.
“Son, it’s not about where you start out in life that matters. It’s where you end up, and only you can decide that.”
“You’re right.” Blaise nodded slowly. “You’re absolutely right.”