32. Kennedy
32
KENNEDY
W ith trembling hands, I knock on Cade’s door. It’s late. But I’ve got major decisions to make about my life, about my career, about him. About us.
Everything is different now.
But we can’t move forward until we get over the past.
“Kennedy,” he gasps, noticing my worried expression. “What happened? Come in.”
“Hi…”
Cade pulls me into his arms, and I wish more than anything I didn’t have to bring any of this up again.
“What happened?” he repeats. “Tell me.”
I want nothing more than to lose myself in him, feeling the warmth of his broad chest pressing against my cheek. His hands rub my back, making it seem as if there’s no problem in the entire world he can’t chase away for me.
“I’m embarrassed for showing up like this,” I tell him, running my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry. But I had to come here and ask you… I have to talk to you.”
“Baby, it’s okay,” he says, hugging me tighter. “Everything’s all right. Here, sit down. We can talk about whatever you want.”
“Cade, I’ve tried putting the past out of my mind and moving on. I tried to tell myself that our history didn’t matter anymore. But I can’t let it go, no matter how hard I try. I can’t decide what this thing is between us, and I can’t move forward with you until I get some kind of closure. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s totally okay.”
“I don’t want you to pretend anything,” he says. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked about what’s been happening between us, but everything’s been going so well…”
“That’s what I thought. But everything was going so well before, too, and that’s what has me all paranoid now. You told me to trust you. How can I? How could anybody?” Tears fill my eyes. “Back then, when everything was going so well, I actually thought you were getting ready to propose to me.”
A pain shoots through my heart as if it’s happening all over again. I can remember it so clearly. He’d made reservations at a fancy restaurant and pulled out all the stops for dinner. I’d bought a special dress, a stunning midnight blue gown, and my hair was done in elegant waves that cascaded down my shoulders.
I was convinced he would ask me to marry him that evening.
Then, while I was on cloud nine getting ready—and even telling my friends that I thought he was about to pop the question—he arrived at my door looking pale and upset. He ended it right then and there.
There was no special dinner.
There was no surprise proposal and no diamond ring.
And there was no more Cade.
“I was,” Cade murmurs.
“What?” I’ve gotten so lost in the memories that I can barely remember what I blurted out. “What did you say?”
“I was going to propose. I bought a ring.”
My jaw drops. “You did?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Then what happened? ” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He runs his thumbs over my face, tenderly wiping away the tears. Tilting his head as if trying to puzzle something out, he gives it a little shake. “It’s funny. As someone who prides himself on understanding people, on being able to discern their intentions, I still find myself at a loss when it comes to your father.”
“My father?” I narrow my eyes. “My dad? What does he have to do with it?”
He adjusts his glasses, and his eyes dart over to me. “Did you talk to him about me?”
“He only just found out this afternoon that you hired me,” I tell him. “That’s why I’m here. As you can imagine, he wasn’t too happy about it. Nobody is.”
“You talked to him about me this afternoon, and he didn’t say anything?”
“Say anything about what? What are we talking about? Cade, enough. Just tell me what I came here to find out. Please explain what my father could possibly have to do with any of this.”