All the Pretty Poses
Page 23

I can’t say that I’m entirely surprised. Kennedy is strong and stubborn and she’s had to let me go before. This time should be easy for her. And although I don’t want her to hurt, especially not over me, it still feels like I’m being stabbed in the chest over and over and over.
“Keep an eye on her, Karesh. You watch her get on the plane. You watch her make her connection in Los Angeles. And you watch her unlock the door to her townhouse. I want to know she’s taken care of the entire way and I want to know when she’s home safe.”
“You know, sir, that you could go with her. I’m perfectly capable of managing the rest of this cruise in your absence.”
“I know you are, Karesh, but she doesn’t want me following her. She needs space. Besides, there are some things I need to do.”
“As you wish, sir.”
At just after 9:00 PM, my phone rings. I’m still knee deep in contracts and accounting ledgers, just like I’ve been all day. My mood is testy to say the least and I’m really in no mood to deal with anyone. Unless it’s Kennedy, of course. Knocking at my door, telling me that she’s changed her mind and that she’ll never leave me. But it’s not. When Mr. Bingham identifies himself, I’m both disappointed and irritated.
“What is it, Mr. Bingham?” I ask sharply.
“I have located the heir that was in question. Mary Elizabeth Spencer.”
I sit up, aggravated but interested. “And?”
“It turns out she is deceased, sir.”
“Deceased? When?”
Mr. Bingham clears his throat. “Thirteen years ago, sir.”
“How was she tied to our family? I mean, was she an ex-wife we never knew of? An illegitimate child?”
“It appears she was, in fact, an illegitimate child, sir.”
“Do you know whose?”
“I do.”
There’s a long pause during which I have to bite my tongue and keep a firm hold on my temper. “Well? Are you going to tell me who?”
“She was yours, sir.”
I stand so fast my desk, which is bolted to the cabin floor, creaks. “What?”
My mind races back through all the women I’ve slept with, wondering who I might’ve accidentally impregnated. But I’m always so careful. I always have been.
But then, like the first domino in a long line, one telling puzzle piece falls into place and kicks all the others over.
My world is shaken.
Thirteen years ago.
“Who was the mother?” I ask, my heart racing.
“Kennedy Moore, sir.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - Kennedy
It’s cold upon my return to Chicago. My fingers shiver as I turn my house key in the knob. It’s not the eighty-two degree outdoor temperature, of course. It’s the internal hypothermia that has settled into my soul, a bone-deep chill that I just can’t shake.
When I push open my front door, a legal-sized, manila envelope is on the tile in the foyer. In what feels like slow motion, I scoot it out of the way to roll my suitcase inside. Someone must’ve squeezed the package under the weather stripping. With my last bit of energy, I reach for it to check the name and address on it. I don’t recognize it, so I toss it on the counter to open later, once I’m unpacked. Once I can think a little better. Once I can move with less effort.
I wheel my case into my bedroom and park it at the foot of the bed. Exhausted, I perch on the end of the mattress. Every step I’ve taken away from Reese has felt like I’ve walked a mile. Every breath I take seems to be almost more energy than I can expend. The minutes crawl by like lifetimes and each lifetime stretches out into a succession of long, arduous moments of pure misery.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, closing my eyes. In the blackness behind them, in the split second that my mind isn’t otherwise occupied, my thoughts return to Reese, as they have every few minutes since the agonizing one when I left him on the ship two days ago.
Hours pass before I even move off the bed, and more still before I make my way into the kitchen to feed Bozey. As I scrape food from a can into his bowl, I notice the lightly bronze hands at work. My hands. I’m reminded of my time in the sun. My time with Reese.
I manage to get Bozey’s food on his mat before I wilt into the floor, before I let go once more the tears that seem to have no end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - Reese
I grit my teeth and suppress a growl of frustration as I get transferred to yet another useless imbecile at the offshore bank that I use. I wish for the millionth time that there were more hours in the day, and more minutes in the hours. I need time. I need more of it and I need it to move faster. The faster I can get things done, the faster I can get to Kennedy.
Since I watched her being ferried away from my boat four days ago, an urgency has been building inside me. I work tirelessly toward my goal, but still the urgency builds. With every day it escalates, it escalates to…here. Here, where I can’t move any faster. Here, where I can’t make others move any faster. But I have to try. Because I have to get to Kennedy. I have to get to Kennedy, but I have to get this done first. I can’t go to her with anything less.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - Kennedy
Hours have passed. Days have passed. Clive has come to check on me. He must’ve seen me return a few days ago. I’m not surprised. He’s always pressed up against his front window, watching the goings on of his neighbors.
More than once, he has kindly offered an ear, and then a shoulder once he got a good look at my ravaged face. I’ve declined both offers, telling him that I’m just tired and that I need some time alone.
By the sixth day—six excruciatingly long, empty days since I left Reese—I’m not sure I’ll recover this time. The love that a twenty-nine year old woman feels is far, far different than that of a fifteen year old girl. I have no doubt that I loved Reese even then, all those years ago, but I know it paled in comparison to what I feel for him now. I’ve loved him and hated him with equal measure. Why can’t I just not care?
Day and night have lost their meaning. I’m up all hours and sleep in short bursts. The shades are always drawn to keep the harsh world out and me in. So when the bell rings, I don’t realize it’s the middle of the night until I answer the door and see the pitch black surrounding Reese’s beautiful face.
My heart finds a hole in the floor and drops completely out of sight. While I wish I could hate him for all that he’s done to me, I thrill at the tingle that I get from his closeness. It’s as though all my cells are excited by the presence of his, the way water is excited by heat.
I say nothing. I just stand and stare at him. I could stand and stare at him for the rest of my life and never get tired.
He says nothing either, just lets his eyes rove over my face. Finally, he moves, but only one hand, which he raises to brush over my cheek.
“You’ve been crying,” he says softly.
“Yes,” I answer flatly.
“Over me.”
“Yes.” There’s no sense denying it.
His eyes glow with profound sadness that even I can see. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I’m an ass, Kennedy. Because I’m a driven, selfish ass just like my father. But mostly because I was completely unprepared. For this. For you.” Reese takes a step toward me. Slow, tentative, like he’s afraid I’ll spook. “I didn’t see you coming, Kennedy. I didn’t see you coming fourteen years ago and I didn’t see you coming two months ago. I let things get in the way last time, but I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Reese. I won’t be the other woman. I can’t do that. I worked too hard to find something worthy in myself to let you destroy it for money. I just…I just can’t do that.”
“And you shouldn’t have to. You should be first. You are first. I just failed to see that I wasn’t putting you first. But I do now. I see it and I need for you to know that you’re the only thing that matters to me. I can’t let you go. Not again. Not ever again. Not even if you tell me to leave. Not even if you beg me to walk away. I can’t do it. You gave me something real in the woods that summer. You made me feel.
“I’ve made millions, I’ve dined with diplomats, I’ve had the very best of everything in life, but I’ve never felt happy, really happy, until you told me you’d work on my boat. And every moment since then has been the best of my existence. Until you walked away.”
He pauses, staring down at me with those gorgeous blue-green eyes, turning my heart, my soul, my world upside down all over again.
“I’m here for you, Kennedy. I’ve come for you. Without anything else…just me…I’m laying me…all of me…at your feet and begging you to take it. Give me one more chance.”
“Reese, I can’t—”
He interrupts me before I can continue. “I broke it off with Claire. No amount of money or business connections or opportunities or investments or contracts are worth losing you. I gave it all up. For you. I sold the boats and the businesses, it’s all gone. I sold yesterday, tomorrow and forever for you,” he declares, no doubt referring to the names of his boats, Ieri, Domani and Sempre. “The only forever I want is with you. Nothing in my life means more to me than you. No money, no power, no possessions. I don’t need any of that. I only need you. I. Only. Need. You.”
“Wh-what?” I whisper, afraid I might’ve heard what I want to hear rather than what Reese is really saying.
“I got rid of it all. From the time you left, I spent thirty-one hours straight pouring over books and crunching numbers, talking with attorneys and preparing proposals. Making phone calls at all hours of the day and night. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait to get rid of every empty thing that might stand in our way so that I could chase you down and prove that I’d do anything for you. Anything. Just say it and it’s done. I don’t want a life away from you. You are my life. I want you to be my life. And I want to be yours.”
“But Reese, everything you’ve worked for …”
“Is hollow. It’s just money. Worthless when compared to you. I’ve still got more than I could spend in a hundred lifetimes, but if that’s a problem, then I’ll throw it all away for you. I’ll be destitute if that’s what it takes. I need you to understand that there is nothing…nothing…in this world that’s more important to me than you.”
“I never asked you to do this, Reese. I didn’t want you to give up everything for me.”
“But can’t you see that I’d do it without blinking an eye if I thought it would bring you back to me? I did do it. For you. I don’t need the boats or the women or the distractions anymore. All that was filling a hole that only one person could ever fill, only one person did ever fill. And I wasn’t about to hold onto that shitty life and lose the only one I’ve ever wanted—a life with you.”
“Reese, you shouldn’t have done that. Not for me.”
“Fine, then I did it for me. I did it because those things don’t make me a better person. You do. I did it because those things don’t make me happy. You do. I did it because I was afraid that words alone couldn’t show you that I’m in it for real this time, Kennedy. I’ll chase you forever if I have to. I’ll never give up on winning your heart. Just please tell me that it’s not too broken to give away. Please tell me that I’m not too late. I worked as fast as I could.”
“Reese, I don’t know. It’s all just…so…so…I can’t think.”
“I don’t want you to think,” he says, grasping my upper arms urgently. “I want you to feel. Feel how much I love you. Feel how desperate I am, standing here in your doorway in the middle of the night, jetlagged as hell, ready to drop to my knees and beg you if that’s what it takes. Feel me, Kennedy,” he says, taking my left hand and pressing it to his chest over his heart. “Feel me.”
I do feel him. I feel his love and his sincerity and the way his heart is racing under my palm. I know it’s an echo of the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Please,” he whispers, leaning closer and closer until his lips are pressed to my forehead, my hand still pressed to his chest. “Please, Kennedy.”
I feel the sting behind my eyes again and I know I can’t stop the tears that well there then spill over to run down my cheeks.
“Okay,” I say in a small, trembling voice.
Reese’s chest falls under my fingertips, as though he was holding his breath. “Say it again,” he croaks.
“Okay.”
And then I’m crushed, crushed inside arms of steel, crushed beneath tender lips, crushed with a love that feels as steadfast and true as my own.
Reese leans back just enough to let me catch my breath. He cups my face, his thumbs stroking the tears from under my eyes.
“Please don’t cry anymore, baby. Not for me.”
“These are happy tears,” I admit with a shaky smile.
“Then cry yourself to sleep on me,” he says softly, bending to pick me up. “Let me hold you until there are no more tears.”
Reese pulls me in tight against him and I wrap my arms around his neck, turning my face into the curve of his throat. I taste the salt of my happiness as it pours down my cheeks and wets his skin.
Reese carries me to the sofa. Minutes or hours or days later, I wake to find that I’m still curled in his arms. He’s fallen asleep beneath me, upright on the couch, his fingers laced at my waist so that he won’t accidentally let me go.