Pryce Sisters Box Set (Books 1-3)

Just one more lap. Giselle thought as she ran around the track. One more step. One more push. She stopped. She couldn’t make it. No amount of pep talk was going to get her get her there. Her legs felt as if they didn’t belong to her.
She was tired and drained, inexplicably so.
"Come on, Gis," Kurt urged her on. He jogged past her and then turned around. "What's up with you today? Feeling sick?"
“I don’t know.” Giselle sat down in the middle of the track and stretched. “I cannot go another minute. I might be coming down with something.”
Kurt frowned. “That’s been happening a lot lately. Are you subconsciously choosing medicine over tracks?”
“Why would you say that?” Giselle frowned. “I train every day!”
“And you are progressively getting worse.” Kurt snorted. “You knocked over five hurdles yesterday. Your time has dropped to what you used to run in high school, which was way past a minute. I have a hunch that this is more mental than physical.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I am just not feeling it.” Giselle panted. “I just want to go home, have something to eat and crash.”
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with the brand-new shiny scholarships that you got today?” Kurt sneered. “Are you sure that you are not listening to the sweet, serene call of med school, and now you have mentally exited the will to do tracks?”
“How did you know about the scholarships?” Giselle glared at Kurt Yu, her coach and now tormentor. The scholarships were supposed to be a secret until she decided to reveal it.
Kurt stopped jogging on the spot and folded his arms. “Everyone in the Science building is celebrating your accomplishment. Giselle Pryce got not one but two scholarships. She is a genius and so pretty too. Oh, joy and delight!”
Giselle chuckled. “Look happier for my success, Coach.”
"I look like this all the time. I do not have a smiley face. Deep down inside, a generous part of me is rejoicing at your success. Deep, deep, down."
Kurt slumped beside her on the tracks and groaned. “You were doing so well. We could have gone pro. Now you are going to be a sports doctor. Where’s the fun in that?”
“I didn’t say I was going to take up the offers.” Giselle watched as Kurt shook his head from side to side and pulled his fingers through his overlong curls.
He was half Nigerian, half Korean, and he was tall and muscular, not too heavy or too thin, he had the slanted eyes from his Asian father and thick curly hair from his African mother.
He mocked her, repeating what she said in a high-pitched exaggerated facsimile of her voice. “I didn’t say I was going to take up the offers. You would be crazy not to. I wish…"
“You wish I wasn’t so smart?” Giselle teased.
“Yeah.” Kurt scowled.
In a way, she understood what he was saying. He had asked her a year ago if she was serious about tracks because he didn't want to waste time coaching her, but she had given him an emphatic, ‘Yes.’
No athlete was more serious than she was about tracks and especially her pet event the four-hundred-meter hurdles.
Kurt had been skeptical, but he had become her coach, and they had gotten some good results. She had medaled in a few international events.
“I was almost sure I had another 400-meter hurdles champion on my hands. We were this close.” He pinched his fingers together. “This close. We would go professional. I could bask in your limelight. Train some other high paying stars… make a couple of millions…we’d get married have a couple of high performing children. I would train them too and ride the gravy train into retirement.”
Giselle laughed. "Kurt, you say that to all the girls.”
“No,” Kurt said seriously, “just you. We shouldn’t have broken up.”
“But we did. Talking about it is like beating a dead dog.” Giselle sighed and got up. “I am going home.”
“Wait!” Kurt got up too. “You said that you weren’t feeling well. Don’t you want to check it out with the school doctor.”
“No.” Giselle shook her head. “I think my issue is lack of rest. I need some, and I need it badly. I am going to ask Pete to pick me up. He could give me a lift home. Tiana borrowed my car this morning.”
Giselle pulled out her phone to text Pete. He was just across the street at the university. She knew he had evening classes.
Can I get a lift? T has my car. She texted.
“Peter Wiley,” Kurt sneered, “I don’t know what you see in that boy.”
“He is not a boy," Giselle growled. “If you saw him recently, you wouldn't say that, and he is doing classes at the university now.”
“A college freshman.” Kurt snorted. “You left me for a college freshman.”
“We didn't break up because of Pete," Giselle said crossly. “I told you before he is not up for discussion. I don’t care who you see since we broke up.”
“That’s because I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone," Kurt growled. “I don’t spend all my waking moments trying to rob the cradle.”
Giselle giggled. “You are three years older than I am, were you robbing the cradle when we were dating?”
Kurt glared at her. “I think this Pete person is bad news. He is distracting. He is young, and he is a college freshman. You just graduated from college. You have ivy league scholarships. You won a bronze medal at the CARIFTA games. You are too good for him.”
Giselle glanced at her phone when it pinged. In the parking lot.
She could see Pete's black SUV through the chain link fence that separated the training area, from the parking lot.
He was sitting with the window down. He was probably waiting for Giselle to finish training. It had slipped her mind that she had told him that Tiana was going to have her car all day.
Her eyes softened at the sight of him. He was thoughtful as usual. Pete was mature beyond his years and more in tuned to her needs than anyone else.
Kurt followed closely behind her. "Oh, there is lover boy, and I do mean it literally. He is a boy, and he was spying on you. Probably insecure and jealous about us.”
“Shut up, Kurt," Giselle growled. “Stop it, Pete is not up for discussion.”
“You aren’t sleeping with him, are you Gis?” Kurt asked suspiciously. “Is he the reason that you suddenly aren’t focused on training?”
Giselle stopped walking and said as forcefully as she could. “That is none of your business!”
Kurt said just as fiercely. “You are my most promising athlete. It worries me when you are not focused!”
“I will be fine.” Giselle turned toward the gate. “My life will unfold the way it is supposed to unfold.”
Kurt glanced across at the parking lot again. Pete had exited the vehicle and was walking toward them. Kurt understood what Giselle was talking about. He didn't look like a boy. He had come into his own. He was leanly muscular, tall, handsome, and he knew it. He was walking like a man who knew his worth.
The girls playing netball on the other side of the parking lot had stopped training and were cat calling him. “Hey, handsome!”
“So repugnant,” Kurt muttered. “Somebody needs to speak to those women about their harassment.”
Giselle grinned. "Bye, Kurt. Stop worrying. I promise I will be fine by tomorrow."

****

“I don’t have to ask how you are.” Pete glanced at Giselle. “You look beat.”
“I am.” Giselle slid into the car seat and sighed. “I feel washed out like somebody put me through a wringer.”
“So we head straight to your place then?” Pete asked, he rested his hand on the steering wheel. "Too bad, I wanted to show you the progress on my house.”
“I can’t believe you are building a house; this is kind of surreal, you know that?” Giselle settled in her seat.”
“Yes, but I am not like most teenagers.” Pete grinned. “You know that.”
“Only too well,” Giselle murmured. “I still marvel that Preston is willing to let you live on your own.”
“My dad was completely cool with it.” Pete chuckled. “It was my mom that felt offended that I wanted to leave home, and she hated that it was in the same townhouse complex where you live.”
“Yup, Sheryl loathes me,” Giselle said forlornly, “I corrupted her innocent son.”
“Giselle the corrupter,” Pete grinned. “It’s funny, you don’t look like a corrupter now.”
“How do I look?” Giselle turned to watch him lazily.
“Like I shouldn’t call or text you for the evening after I drop you off, because you’ll be sleeping.”
“Something like that.” Giselle closed her eyes. “Definitely that.”
“And I shouldn’t tell you congratulations about the two scholarships?” Pete asked, wryly. “I know how you get about these things.”
“Who told you?” Giselle grunted.” I thought it was top secret.”
“We go to the same school.” Pete grinned. “Whatever you do is big news. You are the Giselle Pryce, track sensation, part-time model, part-time nerd with the perfect GPA.”
“I wear my sponsor’s shoes!” Giselle groaned. “When did I become a model?”
“Nobody was looking at your shoes.” Pete grinned his even teeth flashing in the half dark. “Anyway, congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Giselle nodded. “I wish I felt more upbeat about it, but at the back of my head there is this premonition, this sense of impending doom. I haven’t been able to rustle up even the semblance of joy. Maybe I will after tonight.”
Pete looked pensive. He glanced at her several times before finally saying what was on his mind. “Six weeks ago the condom broke, Giselle, and we got caught up in the moment after that. Maybe you are…”
“No. Giselle sat up in the seat, her weariness miraculously vanishing, “don’t say it out loud. Do not send that word out in the universe. Don’t jinx me.”
“You have a Biology degree. You are going to do Medicine. You cannot bury your head in the sand,” Pete said in exasperation. “We should be adults about this, saying the word pregnant will not make you pregnant. However, failed birth control will make you pregnant.”
“Nope. I am an adult; you are barely one, and you just said it. It’s out there now.”
Pete laughed without mirth. He slowed down at the Wiley Complex and put his indicator on.
“What are you doing?” Giselle asked panicked.
“I am going to get a pregnancy test. Maybe two or three,” Pete said, determinedly. “You are going to take it and put me out of this suspense.”
“I am not pregnant.” Giselle squealed, “and you are not going to go into a complex that all of your family works and buy me a pregnancy test.”
She slumped in her seat when Pete ignored her.
“Pete, please.” Giselle breathed, real panic taking her over. “My friend Georgia works in the pharmacy.”
This was her worst nightmare coming through. She had thought she could bury her head in the sand, and everything would come back to rights.
Her period was one week late. This was not happening. It was a glitch it would soon be back.
Her sudden tiredness and lethargy—all of it could be explained away.
She heard the alarm bells ringing, and she was ignoring them. After all, how could she be pregnant, she had taken the morning after pill.
Why was Pete forcing her to panic about this?
She almost made her way to the floor of the car and covered her head with the knapsack that she had carried with her to training.
“Pete, no!” She whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”
He didn’t make a sound. The car door did not open. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. She slowly looked up from under the bag.
Pete was staring at her and shaking his head. “Remind me which one of us is barely an adult again?”
“Oh, shut up.” Giselle raged, dragging the bag back over her head.
“I guess since there is no sand to bury your head in, the bag will do.” Pete sighed. “Unfortunately, I think it is better to know now. It’s always better to know.”
“I think this is crazy,” Giselle inhaled raggedly, “I took the morning after pill. It is 95% effective.”
“And then there is the pesky five percent.” Pete drummed his hand on the steering wheel. “We could be in that five percent.”
“No, we are not,” Giselle murmured. “I don’t even like kids. I don’t want to be a mother! At least not now. I have school plans and track plans. This is not right. It can’t be happening.”
Pete sighed and then got out of the car. “I’ll be back soon. Try to calm down. Fortunately for you, I like kids, and all my plans revolve around you."
Giselle closed her eyes tightly. She tried to calm down, but the very word ‘pregnant’ was giving her an anxiety attack.
Her life was finally going on the right trajectory. She had sacrificed a lot to be where she was now, personal relationships, sleep, delicious foods. She didn’t date. She didn’t party. She was the girl who got up at four o’clock in the mornings to train and then study.
And then six weeks ago it happened. It was only a matter of time before it did.

*****

She and Pete had been fooling around for months, but never going all the way.
Her defenses were down. Way down. It may have been the night. It had been perfect. She had been to a lot of receptions, but Case’s had seemed almost magical. The reception had been at the back of his villa. In the gardens.
Pete had found her sitting at the sea wall, sipping her virgin daiquiri and listening to the band. He had just finished his set after serenading the couple.
“I need a shower.” Pete panted, he untied his bow tie and left it hanging askew around his neck. His shirt was plastered to his back. He removed his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing a striptease?” Giselle laughed.
“Nah, I am in IT, not the entertainment industry, and if I were to suddenly change, it would not be in front of my family. My grandmother is over there. I can’t scandalize her. She is a very sweet woman. Even though if I did become a stripper, I have a feeling it would not faze her one bit.”
Giselle looked to where he pointed to Pamela Santiago formerly Pamela Stone. She was the Wiley brothers’ former housekeeper and Pete’s grandmother. She was in a jovial conversation with her daughter Sheryl.
“I talked with her earlier. She is so in awe of her handsome, genius grandson. She even suggested to me that I should check you out.”
Pete grinned. “I did show her how to change her ring tone, I guess I do qualify for the genius tag. I’ll have to talk to her about trying to set me up though. I don’t want a matchmaking granny.”
Giselle laughed. “She said people always remark how much you look like Preston and Jordan, but she knew Joseph Wiley and you are a dead ringer of him. She called you a special type of handsome. The kind of handsome that women kill for.”
Pete frowned. “Maybe she is having one too many laced drinks.”
Giselle giggled. “She also said I look just like Hannah Kennedy, my aunt. And you know the Joseph and Hannah story, your grandfather, my aunt, lovers for life.”
“I was looking at some pictures last night, she is right.” Pete inhaled, “We do look eerily like Joseph and Hannah.”
“Anyway, I need a lift tonight,” Giselle said. “Both my sisters are going back to Kingston. They have work tomorrow, but I am going with you. I am looking forward to hanging with you for a while. You can tell me what I missed while I was away in Europe.”
“You missed nothing.” Pete snagged a drink from a passing waiter and downed it in three gulps. “I need water. Don't move. I am going to get some; I feel like I am on fire.”
He came back shortly with a liter bottle half empty. “This place is hot.”
Giselle laughed. “You were on stage singing and dancing around, what do you expect?”
Pete sat beside her. “So, do you want to get out of here? My stuff is at Spring Street. I am going to have a long, long, shower.”
“Why Spring Street?” Giselle raised her eyebrows, “did your parents kick you out of their villa?”
“No,” Pete grinned, “I volunteered to stay at Spring Street because their villa was packed to the rafters. It’s just four bedrooms. I didn’t want to bunk with anyone when I could have a room of my own at Spring Street. Not that there was any less packed, but it was a first come, first serve basis. We dubbed it Stragglers Rest. Most of the band bunked there. It was a night filled with noise.”
“We stayed at Guy and Lucia’s place, with aunt Sharla’s family.”
Pete looked at her solemnly. “What if I told you I had no plans to drive back tonight. I was going to just go to Spring Street and crash and leave in the morning. Thankfully, the band won’t be around tonight. I can finally get some sleep.”
“Well, no problem.” Giselle shrugged. “I’ll stay there tonight as well.”
“We, ah,” Pete rubbed his face, “Gis, we’d be alone.”
“I know,” Giselle frowned at him, “it is a whole house. There is nothing wrong if we stay there together.”
“Are you sure about that?” Pete asked intently. “Before summer we were on the verge…”
“On the verge, just the verge,” Giselle smiled. “You are seriously cute, when you are serious, you know that?”
“And you are and will always be the prettiest girl in the world.” Pete got up, “Let’s go. I feel like I’ll see steam if I step under water now.”
The house on Spring Street held a morbid fascination for her. Giselle had to admit she had never stayed there overnight. She had always felt a certain revulsion to the place. After all, it was the site where her mother died, the place that had robbed her of the most important person in her life.
It was also a treasure trove of history, her mother’s history, her aunt Hannah’s history. She headed for the albums while Pete took his shower.
Flipping through the photos of Hannah Kennedy, Joseph Wiley and their three boys—Jordan, Guy and Case, they seemed to be such a happy family unit in the photo that it brought a smile to her face.
She paused at the pictures of her aunts Sharla and Hannah with her mom, Monique when they were young women. She slowly went through those. Putting one aside. She wanted to take that one with her.
There were a couple of pictures with her and her sisters as toddlers, they had looked identical at that age. In every picture they were dressed in the same outfits. Three of everything. One picture was even labeled—the triplets.
The more she looked at the pictures, the more nostalgic she felt. She saw one picture that was especially poignant, her mother’s wedding. She was flanked by Hannah and Joseph.
Her mother looked beautiful, with a simple circle of flowers around her hair. Hannah and Joseph were both leaning in to kiss her on the cheeks.
She had the insane urge to cry which was stupid. These people have been dead for ages now and she couldn’t remember any of them.
“Hey,” Pete said softly, “you’ve been staring at that picture for minutes, what is it?”
She looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you.”
She flipped the picture around and showed it to him. “My mom’s wedding.”
“Joseph has a beard,” Pete swiped his hand over his chin. “I have been contemplating trying one just like that.”
Giselle laughed. “There is no need to try it, that’s how yours would look.”
“Look at that one,” Pete pointed to another photo behind the wedding photograph. It was one of him and a pregnant Hannah. “I like that beard and moustache combo. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he?”
“Oh yes.” Giselle chuckled. “And it’s quite vain of you to say that.”
“Look at how he looks at her. He must have loved her deeply,” Pete mused, “Maybe we are them reincarnated because God knows from the moment I saw you, I loved you too. It was like I knew you were the one for me. And I was just twelve years old.”
“Stop,” Giselle murmured. “I don’t want the kind of love these two had. He was married to another woman while she was waiting on the side. Bleh, not for me.”
“The circumstances called for it.” Pete shrugged. “He didn’t marry for love, he married for money.”
“You wouldn’t dare marry another woman and have me waiting,” Giselle growled. “You wouldn’t be crazy!”
Pete laughed. “No, I wouldn’t. Not in a million years. Besides, there would be no need to do what Joseph did; he was poor and had nothing.”
“I say he should have let her try.” Giselle countered. “If I were Hannah, I’d let the chips fall where they may because I would not stand for it. Not me.”
“I would never ask you to.” Pete had dragged her out of the chair and hugged her close. “Marry me so that we, the look-alikes, can give them a better story.”
“No.” Giselle had whispered. “You are crazy. I am not getting married until I am at least thirty-five.”
Pete laughed. “You have your life planned up to thirty-five?”
“Oh yes,” Giselle nodded, settling in his embrace, he smelled so good and fresh. Almost minty. “I love your soap.”
“I hate your answer,” Pete murmured near her ears. “I am not waiting nearly twenty years for you to make a commitment. I don’t feel comfortable just being your boyfriend. I want you to be tied to me forever.”
“You are not my boyfriend.” Giselle had replied tremulously as Pete ran his tongue lightly across her neck.
“We are not in a relationship.”
“That’s true,” Pete slowly unzipped her dress. “We are just friends with benefits. How far are we going with this, Gis?”
Giselle jolted out of the memory and swallowed. They had gone very far. Many times. And she had not cared about consequences or her plans.
It hadn't even been a one-off. They had picked up where they left off at Spring Street. Spending most of their times together at her townhouse. Not caring about the world or consequences.
It had well and truly caught up with them now.