Cowboy’s Healing Heart

15. A World Apart

FIFTEEN

A WORLD APART

KRYSTAL

I stand in front of the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.

The dress Shane picked out hugs my curves in all the right places, the deep blue fabric shimmering under the boutique's soft lighting. It's beautiful, elegant, and so far removed from anything I'd normally wear that it feels like a costume.

Except it reminds me of the weekend we spent in Rapid City. That was a good weekend. But it feels like a lifetime ago.

"You look stunning," Shane says, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. His hands rest on my shoulders, warm and reassuring.

I force a smile, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. "It's gorgeous, Shane. But are you sure it's not too much?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Trust me, you'll be turning heads tonight."

His touch temporarily distracts me from the wave of anxiety. Turning heads is the last thing I want to do tonight. I'm already going to stick out like a sore thumb.

The running experience since I've moved here is that I'm usually the only Black that's not working in the room. It's nothing new, except I only had to deal with it in smaller crowds. The networking event Shane took me to have thousands of people, and they're expecting more tonight.

"I don't know," I hedge, smoothing my hands over the fabric. "Maybe we should look at something else."

Shane's brow furrows. "What's wrong? You look incredible."

I bite my lip, unsure how to explain the storm of emotions swirling inside me. How do I tell him that every step further into his world makes me feel more and more out of place?

"It's just... it's not really me, you know?" I gesture to the dress, to the opulent boutique around us. "All of this. I'm more comfortable in jeans and my boots."

Shane's expression softens. He turns me to face him, his hands cupping my face. "Krystal, you belong here just as much as anyone else. This dress? It's just enhancing the beauty that's already there."

His words are sweet, but they don't quite reach the core of my unease. Still, I lean into his touch, savoring this moment of connection. He's worked around the clock. Ashanti and I only catch him for a few minutes in the mornings, and I have him at night. It's crazy to admit, but I miss working on old engines with him all day.

"Besides," he adds with a mischievous grin, "I can't wait to take it off you later."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. "Shane!" I swat at his chest and laugh. "We're in public."

He pulls me closer, his lips brushing my ear. "Then let's make it private."

Before I can protest, he's tugging me into the spacious dressing room, closing the door behind us. His lips find mine in a kiss that makes me forget, for a moment, about dresses and galas and all the ways I feel at odds with my life and his.

I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he presses me against the wall. His touch is electric, igniting a fire under my skin that burns away my doubts and insecurities.

"Shane," I gasp as his lips trail down my neck. "We can't... not here."

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his gaze dark with desire. "Why not? I own the place."

The reminder of his wealth, of the vast difference in our backgrounds, is like a bucket of cold water. I push him away gently, trying to catch my breath.

"That's exactly why we shouldn't," I say, smoothing down my dress. "What if someone walks in?"

"Krystal, what's really going on? You've been distant ever since we moved to New York."

I cross my arms, suddenly feeling exposed in the revealing dress. "It's nothing. I'm just... adjusting."

He steps closer, his hand reaching for mine. "Talk to me. Please."

I take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain the turmoil inside me. "It's just... everything here is so different. The way people look at me, the expectations. I feel like I'm constantly on display, being judged."

Shane's expression darkens. "Has someone said something to you? My parents?—"

"No, no," I cut him off. "It's not that. It's just... little things. The way the staff at the estate look at me. The comments your mother makes about my 'unique' style. I know they don't mean anything by it, but..."

"But it makes you feel like an outsider," Shane finishes, understanding dawning in his eyes.

I nod, relief washing over me at being understood. "Yeah. And I know it's stupid. I shouldn't let it get to me. But sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really fit in here."

Shane pulls me into his arms. "You fit with me," he says softly. "That's all that matters."

I want to believe him. I want to lose myself in his arms and forget about everything else. But the nagging doubt remains, a persistent whisper in the back of my mind.

"Come on," Shane says, pulling back with a smile. "Let's get you this dress, and then I have a surprise for you."

I raise an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

He grins, the boyish excitement in his expression melting away some of my anxiety. "You'll see. Trust me, you'll love it."

As we leave the boutique, dress in hand, I can't shake the feeling that I'm stepping further into a world I don't belong in. But with Shane's hand in mine, I'm willing to try.

The drive to Shane's estate is quiet, the city passing by in a blur of sleek buildings and bustling streets. I mentally compare it to the wide-open spaces of the ranch and the simplicity of life there.

Here, everything feels so... complicated.

"We're here," Shane announces as we pull up to the gates of his family's estate.

My breath catches as we drive up the long, winding driveway. The house—if you can even call it that—is massive, all gleaming windows and imposing stone. It's beautiful, in a cold, intimidating sort of way.

"This is where you grew up?" I ask, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

Shane nods, his expression unreadable. "Home sweet home."

As we step out of the car, a butler appears, seemingly out of nowhere. "Welcome home, Mr. Kennedy," he says, his tone polite but distant. "Shall I take your bags, sir?"

"Yes, and take them to my room need," Shane says. "Have lunch served on the terrace in fifteen minutes."

James nods, his expression never changing. "Very good, sir."

Shane takes my hand and guides me into the house. The Kennedy estate is massive. The foyer alone is bigger than my entire cabin at the ranch. Everything gleams with wealth and privilege, from the crystal chandelier overhead to the plush carpets under our feet.

"You okay?" Shane asks, his hand on the small of my back.

I nod, not trusting my voice. How do I tell him that I feel like an intruder?

We make our way to the terrace, where a table has been set for two. The view is breathtaking—manicured gardens stretching as far as the eye can see, the city skyline a distant silhouette.

"This is... wow," I manage as we sit down.

Shane smiles, reaching across the table to take my hand. "I wanted to do something special for you. I know the move hasn't been easy."

I squeeze his hand, touched by the gesture. "Thank you. This is beautiful."

As we eat, Shane regales me with stories from his childhood—sneaking out to the gardens late at night, getting caught trying to ride his father's prized horses. For a moment, I can almost see the mischievous boy he must have been, so different from the serious, driven man I know now.

"What about you?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Any childhood adventures to share?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Nothing like this. My adventures were more... down to earth. Like the time I tried to fix our neighbor's lawnmower and ended up flooding their yard."

Shane chuckles, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes. "Sounds like you were quite the handful."

"Oh, I was," I agree, grinning. "My mom used to say I was born with a wrench in my hand."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. The mention of my background, which is so different from Shane's, brings back the tension gnawing at our relationship.

Shane must sense the shift in my mood because he leans forward, his expression serious. "Krystal, I hope you know how much I admire you. Your skills, your determination. You've built an incredible life for yourself and Ashanti."

I swallow hard, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. "Thank you," I whisper.

He stands up, coming around the table to kneel beside my chair. "I love you," he says, his voice low and intense. "All of you. Your past, your present, your future. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to change."

I want to believe him, to let go of my fears and trust him completely, but the past has left its mark on me, making it hard to let go of my defenses.

"I love you too," I say because it's true. Despite everything, despite the growing distance between us, I love him with an intensity that scares me.

Shane leans in, his lips meeting mine in a tender and passionate kiss. For a moment, I let myself forget about everything else—the impending gala, the judgmental stares, the vast differences in our backgrounds. For now, it's just us.

The sound of a car pulling up to the house breaks the spell and Shane's expression changes.

"That'll be my parents," he says, standing up. "We should probably head inside."

I nod, steeling myself for what's to come. As we walk back into the house, hand in hand, I prepare myself for the worst while hoping for the best.

The Kennedys are polite on the surface. Their frosty demeanor, laced with veiled barbs and subtle jabs, all rub me the wrong way.

Shane's parents sweep into the room like royalty entering their court. Eleanor is impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, her blonde hair styled in a perfect updo. Richard, imposing in his dark suit, his eyes sharp as they take in the scene.

"Shane, darling," Eleanor says, air-kissing her son's cheeks. Her gaze slides to me, a polite smile that looks etched on. "And Krystal. How... lovely to see you."

I force a smile, trying to ignore the way she says my name, as if it's a foreign word she's not quite sure how to pronounce. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Kennedy."

"Please, call me Eleanor," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "We're practically family now, aren't we?"

The words should be welcoming, but there's an undercurrent of... disdain.

Richard steps forward, shaking Shane's hand firmly. "Son. I trust you've been reviewing the documents I sent over? I want us to secure some soft commitments."

Shane nods. "Of course, Father."

"Good, good," Richard says, his gaze finally landing on me. "Krystal. I hope you're adjusting well to New York."

"Yes, sir," I say, fighting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "It's... different from what I'm used to, but I'm getting there."

Eleanor's laugh is like tinkling glass. "Oh, I'm sure it must be quite the change. Shane tells us you were working as a... mechanic, was it?"

How she says it like it's a quaint hobby rather than a skilled profession makes my blood boil. "Yes, I specialize in heavy machinery repair and maintenance."

"How... interesting," Eleanor says, her tone suggesting it's anything but. "Well, I'm sure you'll find plenty to occupy your time here. Perhaps some charity work? The Kennedy Foundation is always looking for volunteers."

I bite back the retort on the tip of my tongue. I'm not looking for a hobby. I'm looking for a job. But I know that's not what she wants to hear.

"That sounds lovely," I say instead, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

Shane's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. I'm grateful for the support, but I don't miss how he doesn't contradict his mother and doesn't stand up for my career.

"Well," Eleanor says, clapping her hands together. "We should start getting ready for tonight's gala. Krystal, dear, do you have something suitable to wear?"

The question, innocent on the surface, feels like a slap in the face. "Yes," I say, my voice tight. "Shane and I went shopping earlier."

Eleanor's eyebrows raise slightly. "Oh? Well, I'm sure it's... lovely. But if you need any help, I'd be happy to lend you something from my closet. We're not too different in size, I think."

I force a smile, even as I feel my cheeks burning with humiliation. "That's very kind of you, but I think I'll be fine."

Shane clears his throat. "Actually, Mother, I think Krystal and I should head up. We'll see you in the foyer a quarter after six."

As we make our excuses and head upstairs, I can feel Eleanor's gaze on my back. Once we're in Shane's childhood bedroom, I let out a long breath.

"You okay?" Shane asks, his hand on my shoulder.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. How do I tell him that every interaction with his family makes me feel smaller, less worthy?

"They mean well," Shane says, as if reading my thoughts. "They're just... set in their ways."

I turn to face him. "And what about you, Shane? Are you set in their ways, too?"

He blinks. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when your mother suggested I take up charity work like it's a cute little hobby, you didn't say anything. And you were silent when she implied my dress wouldn't be good enough for her precious gala."

"Krystal, I?—"

"No, Shane. I'm not some project for your family to mold into their idea of the perfect society wife. I have skills, Shane. I have a career. Or at least, I did before we moved here."

Shane reaches for me, but I step back. "Krystal, I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I should have said something."

I shake my head, suddenly feeling very tired. "It's fine. Let's just... get ready for this gala."

Shane hired a team to help me prepare for tonight. We're at his folks' house to ride over together. His father wants to present a united front.

I think it's all a bunch of highfalutin bullshit. But no one's asking me. I'm just the Black arm candy.

I put on my new dress that feels like I'm putting on a costume, playing a role in a play where I don't know my lines. And the worst part is, I'm not sure how long I can keep up the act.

The gala is everything I feared it would be and more. The ballroom of the swanky hotel is packed with New York's elite, all dressed in designer gowns and tuxedos that probably cost more than I used to make in a year. The champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the sound of polite laughter and the clink of crystal glasses.

I stand at Shane's side, trying not to fidget in my new dress. It fits perfectly, but I've never felt more exposed. Every glance in my direction feels like a judgment, every whispered conversation a potential criticism.

"You look beautiful," Shane murmurs in my ear, his hand warm on the small of my back.

I force a smile, grateful for his support but unable to shake the feeling of being a fish out of water. "Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself, Kennedy."

He grins, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. For a moment, I can almost forget where we are, can almost believe that we're back at the ranch, just the two of us.

But then Eleanor glides over, Courtney in tow, and reality comes crashing back.

"Shane, darling," Eleanor says, air-kissing his cheek. "Look at who I found."

Courtney steps forward, all blonde hair and perfect teeth. Her dress is a work of art, clinging to her slim frame like it was painted on.

"Shane," she purrs, her hand lingering on his arm. "I missed seeing you at the office today."

I stiffen, fighting the urge to pull Shane away from her. He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to me. "I left early. We needed to prepare for tonight."

Eleanor turns to me, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Krystal, dear, why don't you tell us about the wedding plans? I'm sure you and Shane have discussed it."

I blink, caught off guard. Shane and I haven't talked about the wedding beyond agreeing that we want to get married. "Oh, um, we haven't really?—"

"We're thinking something small," Shane cuts in, his arm wrapping around my waist. "Intimate."

I nod, grateful for the save. "Yes, just close family and friends. Nothing too extravagant."

Eleanor's eyebrows shoot up. "Small? But darling, a Kennedy wedding is always the event of the season. We simply must invite all the right people."

"Mother," Shane says, his voice tight. "Krystal and I will decide what kind of wedding we want."

Eleanor waves a hand dismissively. "Of course, of course. But do think about it, won't you? It would be such a shame to miss this opportunity to solidify our connections."

Is that all our wedding is to her? A networking opportunity?

"Actually," I say, finding my voice, "I was thinking it might be nice to have the wedding back at the ranch. Where Shane and I met."

The silence that follows is deafening. Eleanor looks like she's just swallowed a lemon, while Courtney's perfect smile has frozen in place.

"The... ranch?" Eleanor repeats as if the word is foreign to her. "But surely you'd prefer something more... refined?"

I straighten my spine, meeting her gaze head-on. "The ranch is plenty refined, Mrs. Kennedy. And it means something to us."

Shane squeezes my waist, a silent show of support. "I think it's a great idea," he says. "We could have a beautiful outdoor ceremony."

Eleanor's lips purse, but Richard appears at her side before she can respond. "There you are," he says, his eyes landing on Shane. "The Morgans are here. They're very interested in discussing a joint initiative."

"Of course, Father. I'll be right there." Shane turns to me, apology written all over his face. "Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

I force a smile. "Go. Do what you need to do."

As Shane walks away with his father, I'm left alone with Eleanor and Courtney. The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable.

"Well," Courtney says finally, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "A ranch wedding. How... quaint."

I clench my fists at my sides, biting back the retort on the tip of my tongue. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me lose my cool.

"It's where Shane and I fell in love," I say instead, my voice steady. "I think that's more important than any fancy ballroom."

Eleanor's laugh is like tinkling glass, sharp and brittle. "Oh, Krystal. You have so much to learn. A Kennedy wedding isn't just about the couple. It's about connections, about maintaining our place in society."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Kennedy," I say, my patience wearing thin, "I don't give a damn about your place in society. I care about marrying the man I love, surrounded by the people who matter to us."

Eleanor's eyes narrow, all pretense of politeness dropping away. "And what about what Shane wants? Do you really think he'll be satisfied with some backwater ceremony? He was raised for more than that."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. Because deep down, in the darkest corners of my mind, I've wondered the same thing.

Will Shane really be happy with the simple life I want? Or will he always be yearning for this?

"I think," I say, holding her gaze, "that you don't know your son as well as you think you do."

With that, I turn on my heel and walk away, my head held high even as my heart races. I need air. I need to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

I find my way to a balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief against my flushed skin. The city stretches out before me, a glittering canvas of lights and stars. But in this moment, I've never felt more alone.

I close my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. Why am I letting these people get to me?

"Krystal?"

I turn to see Shane standing in the doorway, concern etched on his face. He steps out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, moving to stand beside me. "Did they say something?"

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. How do I tell him that every interaction with his family, every moment here, makes me feel less and less like myself?

Shane's hand finds mine, his touch warm and familiar. "Talk to me, Krystal. Please."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Your mother thinks our wedding should be some grand society event. She doesn't understand why we'd want something small and intimate."

Shane sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. She can be... overwhelming sometimes."

"It's not just that," I say, the words tumbling out now that I've started. "It's everything. The way people look at me here, like I'm some curiosity. The constant reminders that I don't belong here. I feel like I'm losing myself, trying to fit into a mold I was never meant for."

Shane turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. "Krystal, you don't have to change who you are. I love you for you, not for some society version of you."

"Are you sure? Because sometimes I wonder if you see me or just see what you want to see."

"What do you mean? I've done everything I can to make this a smooth transition."

I gesture back towards the ballroom, where the party continues without us. "This is your life, Shane. The galas, the networking, and the constant pressure to maintain your family's status. It's suffocating, and I... I don't know if I can keep this up."