Huge Deal - Lauren Layne Page 0,62
looked up, he shook his head.
“Yeah,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, she did it gently, mama bird–style, and I’m glad she did. But it was embarrassing as heck to realize that far from being the one who takes care of anything, you’re the one people are worrying about.”
“Should we be worried about you now?” he asked quietly. He already was, but he also knew Kate was stronger than any person he’d ever met. For now, he just needed to make sure she didn’t shut him out.
“I’m okay,” she said slowly. She picked up her wineglass but instead of drinking, she stared down at it. “I miss him. A lot. I just want the ache to stop. The pain of realizing I’ll never see him again.”
He hurt for her, but Kennedy didn’t offer any platitudes. He didn’t tell her it would get easier or that the pain would lessen over time. She already knew that. She didn’t need words.
She needed a distraction from her pain. And he was determined to be the one doing the distracting.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Kennedy asked.
She paused midchew, then swallowed. “Um. I don’t know. More penis stuff, I guess.”
His wineglass paused halfway to his lips. “Dare I hope you’re referring to Lara’s bachelorette shenanigans?”
“My penis agenda is none of your—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I hereby ban the phrase penis agenda. Actually, let’s just go ahead and take the word penis off the table altogether.”
“What do you want me to call it? What about—”
“No,” he said again. “Just no. Are you free tomorrow or not?”
“Why?”
“Free or not,” he said, refusing to give her any chance of wiggling out of what he had planned.
Kate rolled her eyes as she took another bite of her scallop. “Fine. No. I don’t have anything going on tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Dress casual.”
She paused with her fork in her mouth, then pulled it out and frowned. “What?”
“There will be no penises, so don’t get excited.”
“I thought we couldn’t use that word.”
“Loophole. If you have said body part, you’re allowed to say it.”
Her cheeks turned slightly pink, and she took a sip of her water.
Kennedy hid a smirk, fairly certain that her blush had more to do with arousal than embarrassment. But her next words had him sobering.
“Kennedy, what are we doing here? I told you I wasn’t . . . I don’t want . . .” She broke off, looking frustrated that she didn’t seem to know what she wanted or what she was trying to say.
His chest tightened with hurt for her, frustration for himself. But she came first, always.
He reached across the table for her hand, the ache in his chest easing slightly at the way her fingers folded instinctively around his.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.
Hope soared. “Good. I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow.”
23
Sunday, May 19
Kennedy showed up twelve minutes early. Of course he did.
Kate picked up the phone and pressed the button to let him into the building without bothering to say hello, one hand still wrapped around the handle of her round brush.
Not so long ago, her thick, straight hair had air-dried or was hurriedly brushed through with a regular old brush and blow-dryer. The new haircut required a bit of TLC to look full and bouncy, but she didn’t mind. She would have styled her hair for any Sunday brunch plans. Really. It had nothing to do with looking her best for Kennedy.
At his knock, she opened the door and immediately sighed as she looked at him. “I should have known.”
“What?”
“You said dress casual!” she accused.
He looked down. “This is casual. I’m wearing shorts.”
“Uh-huh. Be honest with me—do you have those dry-cleaned, or at least pressed, every time you wear them?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course.”
Kate sighed again. “Whatever. Come in. But I’m not changing to match that,” she said, waving a hand over his perfectly pressed navy shorts, wrinkle-free white button-down, and boat shoes that were either never worn or kept in weirdly pristine condition.
She, on the other hand, had taken casual to heart. Denim shorts that were at least a half decade old, slim-fitting black tee, and adidas Superstars.
“I think you look great,” he said as she headed back to the bathroom to finish her hair.
“Shut up,” she called back. “I’ll be ready in a few, make yourself at home, you know the drill.”
Which was a little weird that he did. Weird to think that just