Chapter 25
DREW
“We’re excited to have you,” I said.
The other two—Kevin and somebody whose name I’d already forgotten—crowded in for more handshakes and backslapping.
They were wearing expensive sneakers and hoodies.
It was a look that’s supposed to be casual but I knew the hoodie.
I had one. It cost a cool thousand bucks.
Tech money. New money. The kind that hadn’t quite figured out how to wear itself yet.
The fucking beanbags and kombucha bar in the lobby was so typical.
“Absolutely,” I lied smoothly. “I’ll have my assistant reach out.”
More handshakes. More promises to stay in touch that neither of us meant. I finally extracted myself and pushed through the revolving door into the San Francisco afternoon.
The air was cooler than LA. I loosened my collar and flagged down a cab.
“Union Square,” I told the driver as I slid into the back seat.
The car pulled into traffic. I leaned my head back against the seat, tired.
Not physically tired but the kind of tired that came from spending hours with people I would never willingly spend time with.
They talked about data and synergy and a bunch of other gobbledygook that I didn’t understand and didn’t want to. I wasn’t a techie.
But they were writing a check. A big one. And that would defray some of the cost to Blackwell Couture. That was the part about running a business I really didn’t like. Dealing with people you’d rather not deal with because they had something you needed.
I pulled out my phone and texted Kensey.
Me: On my way.
Kensey: Hey sexy, can’t wait to see you.
That made me smile. It felt good to be missed. And wanted.
What was I going to do when Kensey left? I pictured myself in the house again, microwaving leftover Chinese. Alone. Broken-hearted. A smart man would spare himself the pain. But I was not known for being smart, not when it came to her.
I could see the end and it was unpleasant. Kensey standing in an airport, bags at her feet, saying goodbye. Maybe we’d hug. Maybe we’d promise to stay in touch. And then she’d walk through security and back to her life in New Jersey.
She had students who needed her. Friends, routines, a whole existence that had nothing to do with me. She loved that job. She was doing something that mattered.
And I had the store. The family. Obligations I couldn’t just walk away from because I’d finally figured out I was in love with my best friend.
The New York cousins had trusted me with their flagship store.
They were counting on me to make the store a success.
So far so good, but I couldn’t pack up the store and move it to New Jersey.
And trying a long-distance relationship was a joke.
I’d watched enough people try it to know how that story ended.
Someone always got tired of the phone calls and the missed flights.
The constant negotiating about whose turn it was to visit.
I wasn’t doing that to us. I wasn’t going to be the guy who resented her for not being there or made her feel guilty for living her life.
The alternative was letting her go. We’d stay friends. Or try. How long would that last? Could we ever be “just friends” again?
I was so screwed.
The cab pulled up in front of the hotel. I paid the driver and walked through the lobby, my mind still turning over the problem. There were no simple solutions to this problem.
I let myself into the quiet suite. Kensey walked out of the bathroom, backlit by the afternoon sun, wearing one of the hotel robes.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “How was the meeting?”
“Productive but boring.” I drank Kensey in, feeling lucky to have someone so amazing waiting here for me. “How was your mini spa day?”
“Relaxing,” she said. “I think I fell asleep during the massage. Is that normal?”
“Completely normal.”
She looked so at ease. Like she belonged here in this suite with the view of the bay. Like she belonged with me.
“How often do you get massages?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not often.”
“Female masseuses?”
“Sometimes.”
“Hmm,” she said.
I grinned. “Jealous?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel about a woman greasing you up and running her hands all over your body.”
I liked that she was jealous. Even if she was just joking. I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her head under my chin.
“You okay?” she asked against my chest.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Just tired.”
She pulled back enough to look up at me. “You sure?”
I kissed her instead of answering. She kissed me back, tasting like peppermint. I tried not to think about how many more times I’d get to do this. How many days we had left. When we broke apart, I kept my forehead pressed against hers.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Go eat everything in this city like I promised.”
“I need to get dressed first.”
“Take your time. I’ll watch.”
She laughed and shook her head before disappearing into the bedroom. I walked back to the window and looked out at the bay. A sailboat was cutting across the water.
I had time. That’s what I kept telling myself.
We had the rest of the summer. Two more events to get through, the yacht party and the Sidewalk Market.
After that, maybe I could take some real time off.
Not a long weekend or a quick trip. Real time.
We could drive up the coast like we’d always talked about.
Stop in all those little towns. Sleep in and eat too much and not think about what came next.
I could give us that much. A few weeks where it was just us and the road and no obligations.
It wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that she had to go back and I had to stay.
But maybe it would be enough to carry me through a month or two or three.
Maybe I could fit a lifetime’s worth of memories into a few weeks and that would have to be enough.
I was kidding myself. It wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough. But I’d take what I could get.
Kensey emerged a few minutes later in jeans and a loose top, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked perfect. Her skin glowed. Whatever the spa ladies had done, it had been worth every penny.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready,” I said.
We grabbed an Uber and headed to the Mission District. We stopped at a small Mexican place that didn’t look like much from the outside but I’d been there once with Callum years ago and never forgot it.
The place was packed when we walked in, all exposed brick and string lights. The smell of cilantro and lime was so strong it made my mouth water. We squeezed into a small table near the back.
“This place is loud,” Kensey said, leaning across the table so I could hear her.
I grinned at her. “Wait until you taste the food. There’s a reason it’s so packed in here.”
The server appeared and I ordered for both of us without asking. Kensey trusted me. And if it turned out I had ordered her a dish she didn’t like, she would happily bust my chops about it, like a good friend.
“So,” she said, folding her arms on the table. “Tell me about the tech bros.”
“Do I have to?”
“You made a face when you walked in,” she said with a smile. “Maybe you’re the one who needs a massage.”
I laughed. “They had a kombucha bar in the lobby.”
“Oh no. I’m sure that’s a fun smell when you first walk in.”
“And beanbag chairs,” I said.
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious. It felt like I was in a college dorm.”
Our massive strawberry margaritas arrived first. “Holy shit,” she hissed. “That thing is huge.”
“Hell yeah. We have the night off. Drink up, baby.”
Kensey playfully raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Blackwell?”
“Yes, Ms. Blake, I think I am.” I laughed and sipped the margarita. It was strong.
Soon after, the food arrived. Four different kinds of tacos, rice and beans, chips with three different salsas. Kensey’s eyes went wide.
“This is too much food,” she said.
“It’s to soak up the alcohol.”
She picked up the first taco and took a bite. I watched her face. Her eyes closed. She made that sound again, the one that went straight to my dick.
“Okay,” she said, still chewing. “This is insane.”
“Right?”
We ate without talking much, which was how you knew the food was good. We ordered a second round of drinks. I felt a buzz so I knew she was.
“I’m so full,” she said eventually. “Why do I spend so much of my time with you feeling like a whale?”
“Because food brings us joy.”
“I can’t move.”
“You’re going to have to. We’ve got a bus to catch.”
She looked at me. “A bus? Like some kind of peasant?”
I chuckled and took her hand. “Yep.”
We waddled the six blocks to the bus stop, moving slowly because we were both stuffed. The evening was cooling off and fog was starting to roll in from the bay. Kensey tucked herself against my side and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
The double-decker tour bus was waiting when we arrived. Bright red, open top, completely ridiculous and exactly what I wanted. I paid for two tickets and we climbed the narrow stairs to the upper level.
“Are you serious right now?” Kensey asked as we settled into seats near the front.
“We always talked about doing this,” I said.
“We did.”
The bus lurched forward and the pre-recorded tour guide’s voice crackled over the speakers, welcoming us in three different languages. Kensey laughed and shook her head. “This is so cheesy.”
“It’s perfect.”
She leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder as the bus wound through the streets. The tour guide pointed out landmarks. The painted ladies. Alamo Square. Haight-Ashbury.
I held her hand, our fingers laced together resting on my lap. She filled my chest with electricity, making me feel more alive than I had in years.
The sun was dropping lower. I didn’t want the day to end. I wanted time to slow. I was in love with her. Completely, stupidly, irrevocably in love with her.
The realization settled over me quietly, like it had been there all along and I was only just now noticing. Of course I loved her. I’d probably loved her since I was a dumb teenager who didn’t know what love was.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, turning to look at me.
“You.”
She smiled. “Good things, I hope.”
“Never.”
She laughed and kissed me. And it only made me fall for her more.