Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kenny
T he bouquet might’ve been on the large side, now that I held it out and literally couldn’t see Liz behind it.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, her voice slightly muffled thanks to the huge collection of blooms.
“You’re welcome. They’re not nearly enough to say thank you effectively, but it’s a start.” This was the conclusion I’d come to while Stone and Cookie had sat on the living room floor with me and Kit and we’d played and talked for an hour before the little one fell back asleep.
I needed to apologize and thank her and then see what I needed to do to convince her to go out with me. It might not have made sense for us to pursue anything together when I’d first learned about her temporary job here, but at this point, after just a few days, it seemed insane not to be with her while I could .
Was I so hell-bent on self-preservation I couldn’t take a risk with someone so completely wonderful?
Because that’s what she was. She was not only beautiful and physically attractive to me in a way few women had been, but she was good. And she was grappling with what she wanted out of her life in an honorable way I admired. She was an amazing friend to me already, and she’d been so tender and supportive, I just knew this was how she treated Jo and her family, too.
How could I look myself in the eye a year from now if I didn’t at least try to spend more time with her? Maybe she’d say no, that it wouldn’t work for her. But what if she said yes? What if we could be good together for a little while—wasn’t that better than nothing?
In the past, I might’ve said no. I wasn’t the kind of man who wanted fast and fleeting. It’d never appealed to me after something I thought would be permanent proved to be so flimsy. I wanted forever with someone. I wanted my otter.
There was some saying about it being better to have loved and lost than not loved at all. The Kenny of the moment reckoned this and didn’t want to live with eternal what ifs, even if the Kenny of years ago knew just how terrible the losing part was, and that was a version of love that seemed more than a little basic in hindsight.
And maybe I could help her, too. Maybe I could give her the gift of clarity about the way forward and encourage her to value herself and invest in herself instead of shoving all her desires down past her work obligations. If she’d give me a chance, I could be good for her.
Even for a moment, but then again, entire lives changed in a moment. So… yeah. There. We could do this.
“You don’t need to thank me, Kenny. Please come in. ”
She took the flowers and walked inside, so I shut the door behind me and followed her in.
“I don’t actually know if there’s a vase in here.” She gingerly set the bouquet down and started looking through cabinets.
“If not, I’ll bring you one. I didn’t actually think about that, sorry.”
She turned toward me. “You don’t get to apologize for that.”
I scowled. “I’ll apologize about whatever I want, thank you.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to her search, finally pulling out a large pitcher that would actually work well. After adding water and sliding the arrangement out of the waxed paper sleeve, she turned to me.
“How do you feel today?”
I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for her hand and pulling her to me. She came willingly, accepting my hug and returning it, resting her head on my shoulder in a way that made my heart twist.
“Good, actually, and so much of that is thanks to you.” I squeezed her tight once more before letting her go somewhat regretfully.
“I will take credit for feeding and watering you so you weren’t so wilted yesterday,” she said, moving to the living room and taking a seat on the couch.
I took a spot on the cushion next to her, pulse skittering in my veins and I would’ve sworn, if I’d looked, my heart on my sleeve.
“I’m a flower?”
She smiled. “Sometimes.”
I pretended to brush my hair over my shoulder. “Well, then. I must be pretty. ”
She chuckled. “Yes, so pretty, especially when you’re slurring your words and can hardly see straight.”
Wincing, I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah. I was a mess. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her hand on my leg stopped me and drew my gaze.
“I’m not. I’m glad I was there.”
“Me, too. I have a few things to say, if you’ll let me.” Way to make it dramatic, drama king.
“Of course.”
I swallowed, hoping I could get all of this out. “First, I’m sorry for the multiple times I crossed a line and said things about wanting you—or, just, you know, all the things.” I waved a hand, obviously floundering.
She laughed softly and steadied my hands with her own. “I wasn’t upset by anything. You probably said some things you wouldn’t have without the tequila on board, but I never felt unsafe or like you were being sketchy. If you had been, I would’ve put you in an arm bar or maybe choked you out.”
I barked a laugh, delighted. “Good to know. Would’ve been fully understandable.”
She grinned.
I sighed. She was so pretty, and strong, too, and it was stupid how much I liked her. The last thirty-six hours had cemented it.
“I also wanted to say thank you for listening and for your empathy. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I’m deeply grateful you were there.” My throat tightened. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Those words were simple, but wasn’t that what I wanted? I’d gotten to take care of her when we had s’mores after she’d had a hard day. And she’d fully come to my rescue Friday night .
We’d been there for each other, showed up for one another… that was the whole thing, wasn’t it?
She bit her soft lower lip, and I had to will myself to stay put. When she spoke, her voice held such tenderness, it caused my emotions to heighten even more.
“I’m grateful you let me. Truly.”
I cleared my throat yet again, uninterested in ending up tearful again. “Thanks for sending the guys this morning, too. I’m not sure how you knew, but they were great.”
“You’re lucky to have such good friends. I suspect they would’ve been there eventually, even if I hadn’t mentioned it, but I’m glad they could show up for you.”
She had this soft expression that made me want to shake her—to beg her to tell me who showed up for her. Jo did, of course, and I thought maybe her dad did, too, when she let him. But everything I knew about her life in Europe said she didn’t have anyone else, not really, and that maybe this was something I could offer her.
I was starting to suspect I’d give her anything she’d let me.
“How are you doing today?”
Her question pulled me into the current conversation. If I wanted to get to a discussion of us , I might need to finish up the focus on me.
“I’m good. A little sore, I guess, but I’m glad I gave them something and I hope it’ll be enough to let them find some margin, or whatever it is they need right now.”
For just a minute, I considered hating myself for not giving them more, or for giving them anything at all, but I didn’t care about money. And why shouldn’t I give them something? I didn’t like the idea that I had so much and couldn’t be bothered to help them. That said, I’d seen them bleed other people dry when I was growing up, had dealt with a fair amount of shame about that even then, so I recognized the wisdom in having a boundary.
I wouldn’t be shocked if I heard from them again, but I’d deal with that problem if and when it arose.
“That’s good. If you feel good about it, that’s all that matters.”
Gah, she was being so sweet and soft, and even though I liked the serious, stern parts of her, too, after last night, I couldn’t keep it locked up anymore.
I grabbed her hand and threaded our fingers together, drawing her gaze to meet mine. Her dark eyes were curious, and she bit that lip again.
My heart rate ticked up, up, and after a steadying breath, I took this quiet moment to ask what I’d wanted to ask for a while now.
“What about us? Can we talk about us now?”