Chapter 22
Kenzie
“No matter the question, you just hop on the Fur-Ever Homes forum and other pet owners will help you?” I scroll through the conversation about a blue tang fish on Trevor’s phone.
“Pretty much.”
I asked if there had been any news about Princess, the potbellied pig Trevor made the video for, and he handed me his phone since he’s driving us to our next date location. Looks like Princess is still without her forever home…and I’m still confused as to where exactly we’re going.
All I know is that it’s something elegant since we’re both in formal wear.
Normally, the idea of being somewhere I’m not familiar with and stepping outside my comfort zone would make a tornado of angry hornets swirl in my stomach.
But the worried way Trevor handed me a dress box when we’d gotten home from the hospital still makes my ribs ache.
“If we’re going to go out tonight, there’s a dress code.
I—” Trevor cuts himself off as his hand rubs the back of his neck.
“I know this seems like a lot, me buying you two outfits in one day, but I promise it’s for practical reasons.
I don’t want you to think I’m showering you with meaningless gifts. ”
“Why would I think that?”
A hard exhale leaves his mouth before Trevor meets my gaze. “That’s what he did.”
“This,” I say, setting the dress box on the kitchen island before looping my arms around his neck, “has nothing to do with him.”
Immediately after the breakup with Aaron, all I thought about was what I’d done wrong.
I completely ignored all the red flags waving in front of my face and blamed myself.
Talking to Mallory had been like wearing corrective lenses after years of blurry vision.
What Aaron and I had barely constituted as a relationship.
Not in any true sense.
Not in the way I’d want—the way I deserve.
Meanwhile, I already had that kind of relationship with someone I considered my big brother. We had fun together, enjoyed each other’s company, and took care of each other. I can hardly count the number of times Trevor has shown up for me over the last year.
“As far as I’m concerned,” I say, threading my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, “that unfortunate blip never happened. It must have been scrubbed from my memory by the powerful drugs they gave me.”
I shake my elbow where a blue Coban wrap protects the puncture wound from the IV. When Trevor frowns at the bandage, I use my fingertips on his jaw to bring his gaze back to mine.
“You hired me then offered me a place to live, and after an exceedingly long time”—I pull a yeesh face just to make him grin—“I finally came to my senses and saw what had been in front of me the whole time.”
Trevor’s gorgeous eyes do a sweep of my face before the tension slowly seeps from them.
“I should probably stop paying you to watch Banks so there’s no blurred lines. Because…” He takes an unsteady inhale. “I wouldn’t need to pay my girlfriend to care for our cats.”
My smile feels powerful enough to light my hometown. “No, you wouldn’t.”
As Trevor’s truck bumps along, I run my fingertips over the gorgeous jewel-toned silk that’s an exact match to the color of my eyes.
The dress fits perfectly—almost as if it was handmade just for me.
The parts of my body I don’t particularly love but force myself to appreciate through my daily affirmation practice, like my thick thighs and small chest, feel gorgeous beneath the dress’s glossy finish.
After pinning my hair into a half-up style I learned from a tutorial, I’d felt confident striding into the kitchen to meet Trevor earlier.
He’d been cradling both cats, murmuring sweet nothings to them while looking devastating in a three-piece suit.
The way the fabric hugged his shoulders and tightened at his waist felt like a personal attack on my ability to think straight.
Then he’d glanced up with a shy smile, having no idea that I was seconds from needing to head back to the hospital so they could monitor my outrageously high pulse.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” Trevor’s eyes flit to my face.
A light laugh tumbles from my mouth, even though my cheeks are on fire. “Several times, actually.”
His low hum feels like champagne bubbles tickling up my spine. “Not nearly enough, then. But”—he rubs his palm over his jaw—“I’d probably lose my voice before I could properly articulate how breathtaking you look tonight.”
His gaze snags on mine again before sliding over my body like a physical touch. I shiver, though the cab of the truck is quite comfortable. Clearing his throat, Trevor quickly refocuses on the road, his fingers squeezing the steering wheel.
“Where—” I try again when my voice comes out husky. “Where are we going?”
“Forward.”
I want to kiss the tiny smirk right off his lips.
But since that would distract Trevor to the point that we might end up in an accident, I strategize instead. “It’s a Thursday night, and we’re in formal wear. The most obvious answer would be dinner, but we’re overdressed for most places in Virginia Beach.”
Trevor nods along as I talk.
“The marina is the opposite direction, so we’re not boating.”
“Nope.”
“Most galas or charity events would be held on a Saturday, so that’s out.” I tap my lips, thinking. “What weekday event would require a floor-length gown and a bespoke suit?”
Trevor makes a turn, but I miss the sign we just passed.
Mature maples and a white three-rail fence line the sides of the road, separating us from soybean fields.
Why are we entering someone’s farmland? A nostalgic pang settles low in my belly, but that still doesn’t explain why I’m wearing heels when all I see through the trees is a few large barns in the distance.
We turn around another bend, and the unassuming farmland reveals itself as an elegant event space.
String lights stretch between two barn buildings with a pergola nestled at the far end, housing a string quartet.
Lanterns hang from beams, their warm light flickering over clusters of tables topped with delicate floral arrangements.
“Is this what I think it is?” I ask as several similarly dressed guests file into one of the barns.
Through the open barn doors, a gentle breeze rustles chiffon draped in picturesque rows. Everything feels suspended in that perfect golden hour as the sun dips low over the horizon.
“I know how much you like completing lists.”
The smile in Trevor’s voice pulls my gaze away from the effortless blend of refinement and rustic charm.
“How? I mean— Who’s… How?”
Trevor’s easy laugh is as luminescent as the fairy lights strewn throughout the barn’s interior.
Before he can give me a proper answer to my half-formed questions, a uniformed valet opens my door. “Miss.”
I take his outstretched hand and get out of the truck, bewildered. Trevor rounds the front in a few short strides before tucking my arm through his and pulling us toward the barn.
“We’re at a wedding,” he says, voice low over my ear. “I had to pull a few strings to get us in at the last minute.”
“What kind of strings?”
“After calling all the venues in the area and asking if they had weddings today, I needed to find a couple that was willing to add on two last-minute guests. Fortunately, Megan—the bride—is a big Waves fan. Though…she told me it took some convincing to get her fiancé, Ryan, on board.”
Alarm bells ping in my skull. I’d hate to ruin someone’s big day.
“We’re not wedding crashing, are we?”
Trevor’s deep chuckle is comforting when I’m tucked against him like this. “No.”
“Is it because Ryan hates sports?”
“Nope.”
“A baseball player broke both his legs and stole his car,” I suggest, having a little fun with this guessing game.
Hearing Trevor’s delighted guffaw feels like balancing a ledger perfectly on the first try.
“He was concerned that having a celebrity in attendance would draw focus away from his bride.”
My instant aww makes Trevor’s grin double in size.
“We have strict instructions to keep a low profile.”
“That’ll be easy. I hate drawing attention to myself.”
Trevor opens his mouth like he wants to say something but shakes his head.
Light and lilting classical music swirls around us as we step into the barn, and an usher guides us to our seats.
Several looky-loos sneak second and third glances at Trevor, but from our position at the far end of the absolute last row, we’re definitely not in the limelight.
I relax, taking in the stunning decor, before a thought skirts through my mind.
“We got them a gift, right?”
Trevor leans close to whisper, “A contribution to their house fund in addition to tickets waiting for them at the Waves box office whenever they’d like for the rest of the season.”
“House fund?”
“Instead of gifts, they asked for contributions to a fund they plan to use for buying a house. I get the feeling they’re frugal, thus the Thursday wedding to save on costs.”
I grin. “My kind of people. I’d like to offer them free tax services for next year. They should know about all the deductions they can receive as a married couple.”
“I think they’d like that.”
Trevor sets a kiss at my temple, and a startling realization crashes over me like a gong blast.
It’s the first time he’s kissed me in front of others. With the extra scrutiny Trevor gets for being an MLB player, I didn’t even consider the potential backlash he might receive for dating me—especially on the heels of my very public breakup with Aaron.
I almost want to smack myself for not realizing this sooner.
My brain had been reduced to kiss-induced mush when I should have been calculating the very real repercussions of our relationship.
If I come to Trevor’s game tomorrow, wearing his jersey, the press will have a field day.
My stomach turns in knots as I lean away, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” I tell him, even though that sentence makes my lungs burn like they’re low on oxygen.
“Do what?”
“Kiss me. Be so close to me. Won’t it negatively affect your career if you’re seen with me so soon after…” For all the confidence I had in the kitchen earlier, I can’t bring myself to say it now.
Trevor grips my chin with one hand, firmly but not uncomfortably.
“No. Absolutely not.” His eyes dart between mine.
“In fact, I’ll contact the media relations manager first thing tomorrow and have them come up with a press release.
And there’s something else…something you should know about Aaron. He—”
The rest of Trevor’s sentence is cut off by “Pachelbel’s Canon.” We dutifully rise to our feet as a bridesmaid in a dusty-rose dress starts the procession, followed closely by a groomsman.
As we watch the procession, my mind turns over Trevor’s words.
His response cements my plan to surprise him in the stands tomorrow.
He’s willing to fight for me, to call who knows how many wedding venues, and argue with medical personnel.
I need to show him how much he matters to me—starting with cheering for him tomorrow.
After the game, we’ll handle the press. I never wanted my life examined publicly, but with Trevor at my side, I’m certain I can manage it.
When I reach down and intertwine our fingers, Trevor’s gaze snaps to mine.
“I don’t want to hear about Aaron,” I whisper, squeezing his palm. “You’re right. All that matters is us. And don’t worry about the press. When they find out, they find out. We can deal with it then.”
A deep groove forms between his dark brows. “Are you sure?”
I can barely keep the sneaky smile off my lips.
“I’m sure.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, giggling at the adorable flower girl handing each person in the aisle a petal instead of tossing them in the air.
“Thank you for this.”
Trevor places another kiss on my crown. “This is just the start.”