started. “I wouldn’t poke the beast if I were you.”
“Why the hell not? Someone’s gotta make him realize he’s throwing away something good.”
I held up a hand. “Just stop already. It’s not meant to be.” The words tasted like the lie they were.
Bell sidled up to Ford, his arm going around her. “I should be pissed as hell at you. But honestly, I’m just sad. You’re missing out on something amazing.”
My chest constricted at her words. I was well aware of everything I was missing out on. It wasn’t the big things that were killing me, either. It was the little ones. Kenna’s grumbles as she woke up. The adorable bleary eyes she gave me until her coffee kicked in. The way she absentmindedly traced patterns over my torso as we watched tv. But most of all, I missed the sense of home I felt every time we were together.
I needed to get over my hang-ups. Figure out a way to have Kenna and my freedom. My ribs gave another painful squeeze. I needed her in my life in whatever way I could have her. Even if that meant just being friends.
I met Bell’s probing gaze. “I’m going to make things right between us.”
Her shoulders slumped. “But not in the way they should be.”
“We’re too different. It just doesn’t work.”
Bell opened her mouth, but Ford gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she shut it again. I gave him a grateful look. I couldn’t take much more of this inquisition. “So, got any pie back there?” I’d barely touched my Reuben, the last thing I wanted was pie. But I’d do anything to steer us away from the topic that was currently ripping my insides to shreds.
I balanced the potted plant in one arm while holding the hazelnut latte in the other. This was dumb. No, what was worse than dumb? Idiotic? I kept walking anyway, rounding the corner from Main Street onto Bay. I could make out the little bungalow that was Kenna’s new work home. I couldn’t imagine a space better for her. It had that charming cottage feel and a killer view of the water.
My steps slowed as I got closer. Don’t be a pansy. I pushed forward and towards the front door. There was a wrought-iron post that jutted out over the entryway, and I could just imagine a sign hanging from it in delicate script with Kenna’s name. I turned the handle, and a bell over the door jingled as I pulled it open.
“Be out in a second.”
Just the sound of her voice had my nerve endings waking up from the deadened state they’d been in since I’d walked away from this woman. I glanced around the front room. It housed a desk and a couch, but it still looked like there was some work to be done. The walls needed art, and the space could use a few more chairs.
“Crosby?”
My head snapped in Kenna’s direction at the sound of my name. Her tone was a powerful swirl of emotions, joy and pain, hope and fear.
“Hey, Brown Eyes.”
Lids lowered over that amber gaze for the briefest of moments before rising again. “Hey.”
I swallowed, searching for the right words. “This place is perfect.”
Her mouth curved. It wasn’t the full, uninhibited smile I loved so much, but it wasn’t the false one either. It was something altogether new. It was authentic, I realized. Kenna wasn’t hiding. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, but the strands held a wave she rarely let free. She wore jeans and a casual t-shirt instead of a more formal blouse.
“I got pretty lucky.”
“I’d say.” I wanted so badly to pull Kenna into my arms, inhale her scent, to feel that sense of home. “I brought you an office-warming gift.” I held out the potted plant. “Bell said you like these.”
Kenna grinned, taking the pot from my hands. Our fingers brushed briefly, and it sent a shot of energy up my arm. From the look on Kenna’s face, she’d felt it, too. “I do, but only because they’re one of the few plants I’ve managed to keep alive.”
I chuckled. “Hard to kill is a good quality to have in a houseplant.” I lifted the drink in my hand. “Thought you might need a hit of hazelnut to keep you going.”
She set the plant down on the desk. “You’re a godsend. I feel like I’m running on fumes at this point.”
There were dark circles under Kenna’s eyes, ones I hadn’t seen before