Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Picking this song was a mistake.
Kenny recognized that fact the moment the first line left her lips.
It was the only song she felt comfortable and confident singing in front of others, but she hadn’t considered the emotional cost.
To her and to Smith.
She faltered when he whipped around and pinned her to the spot with a furious, accusing glare.
But as the familiar words effortlessly flowed from her lips, she found herself unable to tear her gaze from him. Not even when he broke eye contact and thumped his beer bottle down onto the flat side rail of the pool table.
He deliberately turned his back on her, his movements stiff and unnatural.
Kenny tried to control her expression, but her eyes were burning with unshed tears and her voice wobbled on the last word of the second verse. She adjusted her gaze to where the other women were giving her encouraging smiles and swaying in time with the slow music.
Shifting her focus off Smith helped steady her nerves a little, even though she longed to simply set the mic aside and stop singing.
But that would put a damper on the evening and raise questions from the others that she’d rather not answer. So she persevered and tried not to react when she looked up to see Smith saying something to Harris before shouldering his way through the substantial crowd of people.
He pushed through the exit and left the building just as the last uncertain note left her lips and hovered above the crowd before fading into nothing.
Kenny’s shoulders slumped and her head dropped. Tina and the other women were all whooping and clapping. Kenny blinked rapidly before plastering a rigid smile on her lips and walking off stage toward her hollering group.
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Tina asked, wrapping an arm around Kenny’s waist to give her a quick, affectionate hug. The move surprised Kenny, who stood there frozen, unsure if she should reciprocate or not. The hug was over before she could decide what to do.
“You have an amazing voice,” Tina continued, sounding impressed.
Kenny didn’t really, but her voice was just low enough to do that particular song justice. Anything from her in an even slightly higher register could only be described as caterwauling.
“Ooh, it’s our song,” Lia, Daff’s older sister, squealed. She took the mic from Kenny and dragged a protesting Daff and their giggling younger sister Daisy along with their sister-in-law, Charlie, up onto the stage.
“Oh my God, this is so embarrassing,” Charlie—a cute twenty-one-year-old home on vacation from college—groused. Her sisters ignored her.
Everybody laughed when they launched into an energetic, off-key version of “We Are Family.”
Tina turned to clap and egg on the trio, and Kenny looked around to see if Smith had rejoined his friends, happy to no longer be the source of Tina’s focus.
He was still gone.
“Tina,” she low-key yelled into the other woman’s ear. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
“Need me to come with you?” Tina asked, without looking away from the singing sisters.
“It’s safe, right?”
Tina turned to look at her.
“Yes. I know most of the people here. They’re decent folks.
And Ralphie runs a tight ship. Any troublemakers are kicked out and banned.
Also, our husbands are always keeping an eye out as well.
Both Daisy and Lia’s husbands are former soldiers and ex-bodyguards.
And have you seen the size of Daff’s husband?
” She chuckled. “Nobody would ever dream of messing with us. Even though, y’know, the guys are not really here.
” She rolled her eyes with a laugh and Kenny mustered up a smile.
Tina’s gaze sharpened. “Are you okay?”
Kenny nodded, adding a smile of reassurance to the gesture. Tina still looked concerned, but Kenny got up before the other woman could question her further.
She pushed her way through the crowd, careful to protect her injured foot in the process, and once there were enough people between Kenny and the rest of her group, she made a beeline for the exit.
Outside, she stood for a moment, relieved to be out of the stuffy atmosphere. It was lovely here. Cool, with a fresh sea breeze. She could smell and taste the brine in the air.
Pockets of people were gathered on the sidewalk, clutching drinks, having smoke breaks, and engaged in lively conversation.
Kenny scanned every face, hoping Smith hadn’t simply left.
She wasn’t sure why she’d followed him out here, a need to explain, maybe.
To apologize yet again. But he didn’t seem to be out here.
And that was probably a good thing. She had to stay away from him. Why could she not do that?
A heavy hand closed around her shoulder and she jumped, whirling around defensively.
“God, Smith!” Her hand went to her chest in relief. “You scared the bejesus out of me. I thought I was going to have to fend off some drunken asshole.”
“Why are you out here alone?” he asked, voice dark.
“I’m not alone. I’m with you.”
Her sound logic did not impress him.
“I was about to leave. I didn’t realize that the guys were coming here tonight. Harris picked me up and this is where we wound up.”
That explained the lack of text from him.
“You don’t have to leave.”
His hand fell from her shoulder and she valiantly ignored the pang in her chest.
“Yeah. I do.”
“But…”
“You lied.” His voice was a whispered rasp and she took a step toward him in order to hear it better.
“About?”
“Not being a good singer.” He looked moody, brows furrowed, lips downturned.
Moody and resentful.
“Why that song, Kenna?”
“It’s the only one I knew I could sing,” she confessed, her own voice low now.
And this time he was the one who stepped closer, head bent, his face mere inches from hers.
“I used to hum it,” she admitted. “Over and over and over again after we first met. I was obsessed, learned the lyrics, downloaded the song. It was so perfect. So—”
She faltered, not sure where she was going with this. He was standing so close, his heat enveloped her. His delicious scent, clean with a hint of citrus and pine, familiar and comforting, infused her with a sense of well-being.
He smelled like home.
“Us.” He completed the abandoned sentence for her. “It was so us.”
“Yes,” she admitted with a regretful sigh.
His hands wrapped around her upper arms and tightened a little, as if he were preparing to move her away.
But then his hold loosened…and, instead of forcing her away from him, his palms skimmed over the bare skin leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. They came to rest at the sloping curve where her neck met her shoulders. His left thumb traced the line of her collarbone.
“It pissed me off, hearing you sing it. Our marriage was a joke…but those four months before, Kenna. That was real. It was perfect. Yes, I hated the secrecy. Hated the fact that you didn’t think what we had was important enough to reveal to your family and the world.
But when we were together, none of that mattered. Because it was—we were so…”
“Happy.” This time she was the one who verbalized what he appeared unable to.
He swallowed thickly, face ravaged by grief and anger.
“Hearing you sing that song, it felt like…like a mockery of that time.”
“No!” The word emerged on a vehement whisper.
“No, Smith. That wasn’t my intention. That song…
It represents the happiest time of my life.
It was the only one that came to mind. I had no intention of singing, believe me.
But when I saw it on the list…” She shook her head, helpless to explain but needing to find the words.
Wanting him to understand. “I thought singing it would bring back some of that joy. Just for a short while.”
Her hands, quietly resting on his chest, crept upward into the warm cove of his neck, to the stubbled ridge of his jaw, until they cupped his lean, craggy cheeks.
“I keep making these…” Her brow furrowed and she shook her head.
“These mistakes. Ever since coming here—which was mistake number one, I know—it’s just been one misstep after the other.
And hello, perfectionist over here.” The uncharacteristic hello, coaxed the ghost of a smile from him.
“I’m just such a mess right now, Smith.”
It was an admission she’d never made out loud. She always tried to convey an air of competence and complete control, even when she was falling apart inside.
Hearing those words spilling from her lips cracked her heart right down the middle and burst the floodgates—which had been straining beneath the weight of her emotions for weeks now—right open.
Her face crumpled and she sobbed. A quiet, tearing sound that came from deep within her chest.
He made an alarmed noise in the back of his throat and deftly moved her farther away from the pub entrance, to a dark, isolated corner right at the edge of the building.
“Don’t,” he implored in an anguished whisper. “Please, Kenna. I can’t stand it. Don’t cry.”
“I don’t-don’t know how to-to stop,” she wailed in despair, as the first tears slid down her overheated face.
His groan was muffled and so was the “fuck” he muttered against the wet skin of her cheek.
His arms engulfed her, wrapping her in his protective warmth. She buried her face against his hard chest, nuzzling close while the tears continued to fall and the sobs shook her body.
His hands stroked up and down her back and he whispered comforting words of encouragement into her hair.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“I kn-know,” she acknowledged, her voice wobbling alarmingly. “I know I’m wallowing. It’s against the rules to w-wallow.”
Oh, God, the woman was breaking his fucking heart right now.
“You’re allowed to wallow,” he reassured. “Just this once. I’ll wallow along with you, okay?”
The words were silly, inane, but they seemed to comfort her, and he tightened his arms around her protectively.