32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter thirty-two
Tristan
Moisture gathers, clouding the whites of her eyes, but she never lets the tears fall. “We’re done.”
I feel my face fall in shock.
Two words I never wanted to hear come out of Kennedy’s mouth. “We’re done.” I wanted to run after her. To beg her to listen to me. To apologize for letting this blindside her and to let her know that I don’t agree with the decision. But I don’t. I choose to be the cowardly version of myself. Feet frozen, I watch as she storms out of the lobby.
Please turn around. Please look over your shoulder.
She never does.
“Did she just quit on us?” I hear Xander ask.
Glancing at my older brother, I shake my head. “No, she didn’t quit on us.” I pause, swallowing past the thick emotion in my throat. “She quit on me.”
Fuck. What have I done?
I thought she’d be angry. I thought she’d be upset. But I never thought she’d end it all.
Running my hands through my hair, I try to think of how I can fix this. I’ve got to go after her. I can’t let her leave the island like this. Not after everything we’ve been through. I go to take a step, when my brother’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“Let her go, Tristan.”
I shrug out of his touch and turn my glare at him. But it’s Victoria’s voice that has me pausing my attack. “He’s right, Trist. Let her cool down. This is your moment, big brother. This is your time to show Dad how serious you are about the company. Talk to Kennedy when we get back to New York.”
Torn between what to do, I let my brain win out, rather than my heart. I let Kennedy go and pray to God she’ll let me explain when I get back to the city. That she’ll believe me when I say that what we have is deeper than this.
For the next three days, I drown myself in work…and alcohol. Although I never let the alcohol affect my work, I use it to cope as soon as I’m off the clock. I’ve moved from the penthouse to a small suite. I couldn’t be in that space without her, and I knew my dad wouldn’t stay anywhere else.
Xander and Victoria have tried to drag me out of my room, but I refuse. The only place I’ve gone is the boardroom, where Dad has had me sitting in back-to-back meetings, and to my balcony, where I stare out at the horizon, wishing I was anywhere but here.
I fucked up. I know I did, but I honestly didn’t think my dad would dismiss her so quickly. Nothing like him arriving, taking one look around, and sending her on her way. The least he could have done was include her in the sit-down luncheon he had thirty minutes later or have her complete the tour with me. A whole thirty minutes after I watched Jayden load her luggage in the back of the sedan, she never looked behind her.
But that’s what I fell in love with. Kennedy’s ability to wear her confidence like a shield. The entire time I watched—from a distance—her shoulders were back, head held high, sunglasses firmly in place.
I’ve tried calling her, texting her, hell, even sending her emails from work with bullshit questions. She hasn’t returned my calls or texts and the emails she did return were so professional, HR would gladly use them as examples of how to communicate between departments.
There were no quips, no sass, none of the banter she’d been throwing my way for the past six years of knowing her. Her firecracker personality has been distinguished, and I’m the one holding the hose.
A soft knock on the door pulls my attention from where I’m moping on the balcony. With my beer dangling between my fingers, I move through the room until I’m pulling open the door. My younger sister stares up at me, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in my appearance.
I know I look rough; I don’t even think I’ve showered today, and if the crinkle in her nose is any indication, I’d say I smell a bit too. My beard is no longer neatly trimmed, my hair is a tousled mess from my hands running through it a thousand times, and the bags under my eyes are taking over my face.
“You look like shit,” she says as she pushes her way through my door.
“Well, fuck you very much, Tori. ”
She shrugs as she moves farther into the room, and I’m on her heels. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”
“As much as I appreciate the critique, what are you doing here?”
Spinning around, she holds up the ice bucket, which is full of local bottled beer. “I thought we could have a sibs’ night.”
“I’m not really up for company.”
“And I’m family, not company.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow her onto the balcony, where I take my place in a chair, while she sets the bucket down and fishes us each out a bottle. Popping the top, I take a long gulp of the light beer as silence washes over us.
Victoria props her feet on the railing in front of her, mindlessly picking at the label on her bottle.
“Remember growing up, you were always the one I would go to when I needed something fixed? Whether I broke a toy or had some kind of issue at school, I’d always go to you for help.”
“Of course, I remember.” I nod as I turn toward her, wondering where she’s going, which is exactly what I ask.
“Well, it’s my turn to offer my advice.”
“I’m not really interested in your advice, Tori. I already know I fucked up.”
“Yeah, I know you did.”
I scoff, but she continues.
“Look, I’m not here to sugarcoat things, Trist. I’m going to lay it out there and tell you how to fix it.”
Bringing my beer to my lips, I take another sip. “I don’t know if it can be fixed. ”
“It can. I know we didn’t talk as often as we usually do while you were here, but when we did, I noticed a change in you.”
I quirk my eyebrow, curious.
“You’re happier, lighter. It’s like she sparked something that you’ve kept hidden for a long time. Hell, it might even be since Asher died.”
I bristle at the mention of my cousin’s name. He was my best friend, the one I dreamed all my dreams with. When he died, my dreams died with him. My future was forced to be Nelson Signature, and while I don’t mind it, it’s never been my passion.
“I know it’s hard to hear his name. The two of you had such a deep connection, but when you were with him, you were free. It’s the same freedom I saw when you were here…with Kennedy. You both are miserable.”
My head whips in her direction. “You’ve talked to her?”
“Well, yeah. She’s my friend, and I had to apologize to her for my dad. And my idiot brother.”
“Way to pour salt in the wound.”
“Oh stop, you know I love you.” She waves me off.
“I might love you, but Kennedy and I are done. She won’t even take my calls or answer my texts.”
“She has every right to be upset, Tristan. You blindsided her, and you know it. But don’t give up, not yet. When we get back to New York, you need to apologize to her in person.”
“I don’t think there’s any room for forgiveness. I’ve fucked this up real good. It’s not like I’ve always given her a reason to trust me.”
Her head lulls toward me with a subtle smirk. “Oh, sweet, naive brother. Women are…well, we’re easier to forgive than you might think, especially when we know the guy's heart. And deep down, Ke nnedy knows your heart. She knows you, Trist, the real you. Don’t give up on her.”
“How do I do that?”
“Don’t treat her like a project, treat her like your partner. Tell her how you feel about her and prove to her that you’re worthy. Take a leap and fight for something you love. I’ve seen how she’s changed you—or, not necessarily changed, but brought out the old Tristan. Give her a reason to take him back.”
I let her words linger. Kennedy is the only person who knows my deepest secrets and how my vision for my future was completely different than what it is now. Of course, Victoria knows some things, but Kennedy got to see the real me. The side of me I haven’t shown anyone and far too long. I’d give up the company if it meant I could have Kennedy Reed in my life.
Sitting up taller in my seat, I feel hope for the first time in days.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“My big brother. Who would have thought that getting stuck on an island with your enemy would be the beginning of your happily ever after? You both bring out each other’s best parts. Not only that, but you’re not the same guy who came to this island, Trist. You’ve grown. I’ve seen it. And I know she has too. You just need to be honest with her.”
“When did you become such a romantic?” I ask her with a chuckle.
“Oh, please, I’ve always been a romantic.” She nudges my shoulder, and I refuse to touch that with a ten-foot pole. “What you have might not be perfect now, but nothing worth having ever is. Love isn’t immediate—it’s a paradise in progress. ”
A paradise in progress? I like the sound of that. Clinking my bottle against hers, I lean back in my chair as we fall into silence. She came and said her peace, and now my brain is spinning with how I win back the girl.
My girl.