Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“Uh…so if we’re still doing the whole scheduling thing, I should probably tell you that Tina invited me to lunch today.”
Smith lounged on the comfortable bed watching Kenna, who was sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, drag a brush through her beautiful hair. He’d just been wondering if it would be weird to ask her if he could do that for her when she spoke.
“That so? She invited me too. Do you need a ride?”
Her brush strokes faltered and she glanced at him with an amused smile. “I do have a driver now, you know.”
“You do?” Her words surprised him and he pushed himself up against the padded headboard to look at her more intently. “When did that happen?”
“The other day, when I went on my little sightseeing trip. Sam Brand—the security guy married to one of Tina’s friends?— arranged it. The driver, Caleb, works for him.”
“That who took the photo?” he asked, his voice lowering as he recalled his visceral reaction when he’d realized that someone else had taken it.
“Hmm?” She’d resumed her brushing, head angled slightly downward as the sleek fall of hair curtained her face. “What photo?”
“The one you sent Tina.”
“You saw that?”
“Yes. Did this Caleb guy take it?”
“Yes. He’s a little surly. Didn’t say much all day. I very much appreciated that about him,” she said as she swept her hair over her left shoulder.
“He left you to bask in silence, you mean?” he asked and she laughed, eyes shining in appreciation.
“It was very relaxing,” she admitted. “I’m not the chattiest of people.”
Fucking understatement.
“I noticed.” His dry voice teased another easy grin from her.
“And I find it overwhelming when everybody is always talking. Sometimes it seems like people talk just for the sake of it, you know? Like they’re afraid of the silence. And too often, I also find that the ones who talk the most have the least to say.”
“Which one am I?” he asked curiously.
He’d wanted access to that guarded mind and he was getting it in spades now. He was finding these uninhibited, animated confidences both charming and incredibly fascinating.
“You?” His question stopped her dead, as she tilted her head and stared at him consideringly.
“Neither. You talk only when you have something to say. Granted, you often have a lot to say, but it’s never meaningless.
I always thought—still do, of course—that you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. ”
She thought that? Seriously?
“Why?” The question slipped out before he could think better of it.
“Why? God, Smith.” She shook her head helplessly. “You’re so-so engaging and easy to be around. You attract people. Everybody in your immediate radius is drawn to you, wants to talk to you, be noticed by you. You have more natural charisma and magnetism than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You grew up in a house full of dour arseholes,” he muttered, abashed, his cheeks going hot with embarrassment. “The bar is extremely low.”
Instead of taking offence as he’d half expected her to, she laughed, the sound bubbly.
“True, true. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons I was so drawn to you.
Your openness. You didn’t feel the need to hide what you were feeling from me.
And I found that so refreshing. It was only after we married that things went a little pear-shaped.
You closed yourself off from me. I can’t even blame you for that. I know why you did it.”
“Self-defense,” he told her. “You were so distant and after the miscarriage, I needed to put up a few shields of my own.”
“I did so much damage,” she whispered mournfully, hanging her head.
“No, sweetheart. You were protecting yourself, and if I hadn’t had my head shoved so far up my own arse, I would have known that. I would have worked at earning your trust and lowering your defenses, instead of putting up my own.”
“But…”
“You’re breaking your no wallowing rule, Kenna,” he warned and she smiled at him through shimmering tears.
“I wasn’t sure we were still adhering to that one,” she confessed with a laugh.
“It’s a good rule. I vote we keep it.”
“Agreed.”
He smiled at her, the intensity of his joy at just being here with her was a little unnerving. He was naturally concerned that they were opening themselves up to a lot more pain, but he was helpless to deny them this opportunity at a—
What?
A fresh start?
Or maybe a graceful ending?
Neither of those felt right.
And Smith was the one who had urged her not to label this. Not when it felt so impossibly fragile.
Like her no wallowing rule, it was good advice and he should probably stick to it.
Tina raised a speculative brow when Smith and Kenny walked into her home together later that afternoon. Thankfully, she did not immediately comment on the unexpected development.
Kenny had no doubt that there would be questions later, but for now the other woman’s tact felt like a reprieve.
“Smith, you can join Harris and Greyson in the kitchen,” Tina said.
She waved a hand toward where the Chapman brothers were both lounging around on bar stools next to the marbled island that divided the dining and living areas of the large open-plan space from the kitchen.
“Go and make yourself useful,” Tina continued, before taking hold of Kenny’s hand and leading her in the opposite direction. “Kenny, would you like a drink? Libby and I are watching a Love Island marathon. Sundays are the only days we get to catch up. We’re so busy the rest of the week.”
Kenny found herself shepherded to the big, beautifully furnished living area. More of Tina’s favorite cozy cottage/shabby chic decor. Pale blues and creams lent the room a relaxing freshness that Kenny found appealing.
The house was situated on the mountain slope overlooking town, and the living room boasted three massive floor-to-ceiling paneled sliding doors that showcased the magnificent panoramic view of Riversend and the ocean beyond it.
The doors opened up to the outside entertainment area, with a turquoise infinity pool closed off by glass fencing which kept the children and dog safe, but didn’t impede the view.
“Your house is lovely,” Kenny told Tina, as the other woman steered her toward where Libby was seated.
The living space was was full of baby paraphernalia and clutter.
The twins were happily babbling in a play pen in a corner of the room, and Clara and Piper—Libby’s little girls—appeared to be having a tea party at a tiny plastic table with several stuffed toys and a scruffy little dog in attendance. All three sat on tiny chairs and wore tutus.
Libby was on the comfortable-looking, overstuffed blue sofa, dotted with tiny white floral sprigs.
“Hey, Kenny,” she greeted with a friendly smile.
“Libby,” Kenny greeted a little conservatively, hating how she could feel herself retreating back behind her shield, just because she wasn’t very familiar with the other woman.
Libby Chapman was an ethereally beautiful, mixed-race woman, of about thirty, the same age as Kenny. The woman had lovely gold-hued brown skin, wavy black hair and light brown eyes. “How are you?”
Libby propped her elbow onto the arm of the sofa and dropped her cheek into her palm.
“Knackered,” the woman confessed. “I only worked half a day yesterday, but it was exhausting. Saturday afternoons can get a little nuts. I don’t know why on earth I chose this hellish profession. It’s making me old before my time.”
“Bullshit,” Tina scoffed with a dismissive laugh. “You live for the crazy.”
She handed Libby and Kenny each a glass of white wine.
“Have a seat, Kenny,” she invited, dropping into a massive, wingback easy chair and curling her bare feet under her bum.
Kenny—for lack of anything better to do—sank down on the opposite end of the sofa.
“Don’t believe a word she says, Kenny!” Tina said. “I’ve never seen a woman thrive on chaos as well as Libby. And the busier we get, the calmer she is.”
“My idea of chaos can’t possibly compare to Kenny’s,” Libby dismissed. “I imagine the life of a surgeon in a public hospital must be quite frenetic.”
Kenny took a thirsty sip from the generous amount of chardonnay Tina had given her and shook her head.
“The bulk of my time is divided between patient consultations and admin, actually. I have an amazing team of professors, surgeons, and students who do a lot of the heavy lifting, while I serve in a supervisory capacity.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be the head of an entire department?” Libby asked.
“Aren’t you a little young to be the head chef of a popular restaurant?” she threw back at the other woman.
Libby laughed appreciatively and tipped her glass toward Kenna.
“Touche.”
Kenna smiled, finally relaxing, and took another sip of wine before answering Libby’s question. “I’m younger than most of the other department heads, yes.”
It was an understatement. It was almost unheard of for a thirty-year-old woman to hold the position Kenny did. A lot of her peers fully believed it was because her father had bought the position for her.
Kenny didn’t really care what they thought of her. She had worked her butt off to be where she was now.
The night she’d met Smith had been the first time in years she’d even felt a stirring of sexual interest in anyone. That fierce driving need had felt like an awakening, and had completely blindsided her.
All those years of seeing only what was directly in front of her. The passion for her work, her driving ambition, her need to help people. To make a difference. She’d had tunnel vision. Had seen nothing else.
Until that one night, at an industry party hosted by Jenson Pharmaceuticals, Kenny had looked up and seen him standing beneath a massive chandelier, the warm light of which had set his hair on fire.
He’d been laughing at something his brother, Dr. Conrad Jenson, head of thoracic surgery at the same hospital Kenny worked at, was saying. Kenny had been absolutely dazzled and unable to look away from him.