Kendall #2
“Yeah. Holy shit. Do you think this will actually help you?”
“I… I really don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess it can’t hurt to send it to my lawyer, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. “Let me just clip that part, and I’ll send it to you.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, sounding a bit dazed. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” I said. “Are you… Okay?”
“I’m fine,” he answered quickly. “Really,” he tacked on, as if to differentiate from all the times he’d lied about being okay, when really his emotions had been a turbulent, swirling mess.
But my instincts told me he wasn’t particularly hurt, just surprised by how things with the call had turned out.
He made his way over to the kitchen, and I raised up on my toes to meet him for a quick kiss, gliding my hands up his firm chest. “I think I’m going to hop in the shower. ”
“Okay,” I answered, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt.
I would have offered to join him, or maybe even surprise him by sneaking in once he was all wet and slippery in there, but it seemed like he just wanted some time to think and clear his head.
“When you get out, I should have these blondies frosted and ready for you to taste.”
An appreciative little groan rumbled through his chest, and he leaned down to kiss me again. “You’re so good to me.”
“You’re very easy to be good to, baby.”
ONCE RHYS LEFT for the bar the house was quiet, but I didn’t mind.
While he’d been rinsing off in the shower, I’d chopped the footage from the camera and sent him the relevant bit.
He’d emailed it off to his lawyer with an explanation of what had happened, and I supposed we’d find out if it was worth anything after he had a chance to take a look at it.
Snuggled in my armchair, wrapped up in a cozy blanket, I finished up some work by editing the rest of the footage into usable clips, uploading a post I’d already prepared in advance about how to make buttercream frosting a brighter white by adding the tiniest drop of violet to cancel out the natural yellow tint, and answered some supportive DMs from my followers.
When my phone next to me lit up with a text, I picked it up and gawked at the time. I’d been working for way longer than I’d realized. And not only that, but I’d been so apparently enthralled by my own clips that I hadn’t noticed Rhys had already texted me twice.
There’s some girls here from out of town. They keep trying to get us to do shots with them, read the first text. Then, a half hour or so later, he’d sent another one. One of them keeps hitting on me. My stomach dropped as I read the most recent one. She wants to give me her phone number.
Was he asking for my permission to get someone else’s number?
Or maybe he wasn’t asking. Maybe he was just trying to break it to me kind of gently.
I had to admit I hadn’t exactly prepared for this scenario, but maybe I was being naive.
He’d only just gotten out of a sexless marriage.
Sure the sex we were having was great, but could I reasonably expect him to only want me?
And we hadn’t set any boundaries or discussed expectations. I hadn’t even thought about it, since the idea of even looking at another guy was so totally preposterous to me while I had Rhys Kensington in my bed. But Rhys was my everything.
Being with him had been my dream since before I’d even really fully conceptualized sex or romance or relationships.
I wasn’t under some delusion to think that feeling was mutual.
I knew he was attracted to me and liked spending time with me.
He definitely liked fucking me. But I wasn’t some pinnacle of achievement for him.
He hadn’t been fantasizing about me for most of his life like I had about him.
It didn’t make him a bad person if he wanted to have sex with other people.
I could feel my stomach thrashing and rising up to my throat like a snapped rubber band, but I knew I needed to respond to him.
Reacting in a jealous way would only turn him off, I was sure.
I had to show him that I wasn’t going to freak out on him just because he was considering messing around with someone else.
If it was just sex, then… I could live with it.
I would hate it, and imagining him with someone made me feel like my heart was being ripped out, but I could live with it.
I could still give him more than anyone else.
I had to remember that, and make sure he remembered it too.
My fingers were trembling as I typed out a response, trying to navigate my jumbled thoughts for what would be the best response to keep him from distancing himself from me.
Is she cute?
I sent it, and instantly flipped my phone face-down onto the arm of my chair. I didn’t want to look at the messages anymore. But of the course the moment it vibrated with his response, I snatched it up.
She’s pretty cute. All the guys are making fun of me.
My fingers tightened on the edge of the phone, my pulse speeding up to send blood rushing in my ears, but I forced myself to type out a response.
Why are they doing that? I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Maybe it was just one of those juvenile guy things, where when a girl passed you a note in class all your friends started making fun of you for having a girlfriend.
They’re calling me a simp because I kept turning her down.
As I processed his response, the sick nausea in my throat and the sharp edge of anxiety in my chest dulled a bit. I didn’t want to misunderstand the situation, but the ever-hopeful optimist in me was allowing relief to start trickling in. Before I could decide what to say, he sent another message.
They keep asking me about who I’m seeing. I wish I could explain it to them but I don’t think I’m ready.
I bit down into my lip, feeling like a moron as I swiped the dampness off my lashes.
You don’t have to tell them about me, I promised him. You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.
Dragging my hands through my hair, I inhaled deep breaths through my nose to slowly let them out through my mouth to calm myself down. I’d gotten so upset at nothing. He wasn’t thinking about hooking up with someone else. I’d terrified myself with something I’d completely made up in my head.
Hauling myself up and into my bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. His next message came in while I was patting my skin dry.
You looked so hot today. I should have fucked you before I left the house.
I stared at the text, blinking several times before a tiny huff of laughter tumbled out of my mouth. His mindset couldn’t have been further from my insecure, stressed out inner ramblings.
Are you horny? I asked.
Everyone keeps asking who I’m seeing so I keep thinking about you. Of course I’m horny, he replied.
It was funny, he had absolutely no idea the roller coaster of emotions I’d just put myself through, or how incredibly grateful I was for the fact that he was basically perving on me over text when he should have been hanging out with his friends.
I even felt slightly apologetic, like I’d underestimated him, even though he was totally clueless about the whole thing.
I’ll be here when you get home, I assured him. I’ll give you whatever you need.
You seriously drive me fucking crazy, Sparkles. I’m going to head out soon.
The stupid smile on my face was embarrassing, and I was glad I was alone as I hugged my phone to my chest.
Hurrying into the bedroom, I yanked open my top drawer, digging through all the fun, lacy things I’d collected over the years.
Little had I known I’d been collecting them for Rhys.
Deciding on a particularly pretty set, I pondered the fact that it was getting pretty late into the night, and Rhys would likely be pretty tipsy when he got home.
He’d probably want to fuck, and then crash out into a satisfied slumber.
Moving over to my nightstand, I yanked open that drawer too, pulling out everything I needed to prep for the scenario in my head.
Because he’d been so incredibly sweet and loyal, alleviating fears he hadn’t even been aware I was having, I decided I was going to make it very, very easy for him to get what he wanted from me.
Carefully and deliberately working through every step, I stared at myself in my floor-length mirror when I was finished.
I looked hot. Rhys was definitely going to lose it when he got home.
Deciding I’d meet him at the door in my lingerie just like I had the first time we’d had sex, I stretched out on the bed, laying my phone right next to my face so I’d notice when it lit up.
Exhaustion hit me out of nowhere, probably a crash from the adrenaline rush I’d had when I’d thought Rhys was interested in the woman from the bar.
And as I waited, I slipped into a deep sleep.