Chapter Fifteen
Kennedy Noelle
He’s here. Beckett is here and he now knows my name.
What are the freaking chances of that happening?
Nice one, universe. Not once, not twice, not three times, but four, four times this man has entered my life unexpectedly.
I’d love to be able to jump into his arms and erase the pain of the last eleven months, but I am done with men treating me like dirt, like I am an afterthought, like I’m second best.
I can’t think of anything that could justify what he did, so his half-assed apology would fall on deaf ears because this girl is over it. No more deadbeat men for me.
“How does it look?” Ali says, spinning in a circle. She’s in a stunning violet colored strapless gown that’s shorter at the front and longer in the back. The train of the dress fans out as she walks, and her blonde hair drapes down her back in Hollywood curls.
“You look stunning, Ali.” I beam.
“Thank you. Can you keep a secret? I am nervous as hell. I haven't done this in so long.” She anxiously wrings her hands together.
“Hey,” I say, taking her hands into mine and giving them a squeeze. “You are amazing, you are beautiful, and the baddest bitch I know.”
Ali lets out a little chuckle, and her eyes water. It’s the first flicker of vulnerability I have seen from her. She comes across as a confident, takes no shit kinda woman, someone I truly look up to, but I guess even the most confident people have moments of self-doubt.
“Thank you, Ken. I’m so lucky to have you back here with me. Usually, Ria and Gabby are scooping me off the ground, so I am so grateful to have you here quite literally holding my hand.” She smiles softly as she speaks about her best friends.
“Anytime. Now, go strut down that runway like the queen that you are.”
Ali fans her face with her hands to stop the tears from free falling. “Okay, I can do this. How long do I have?”
I pull my phone from the back pocket of my skirt. “Erm about seven minutes.”
She rubs her hand around her neck and gasps. “Oh no, my necklace.”
“Your necklace?” I repeat back to her, my tone full of confusion.
“Yeah, Harry gave it to me. It’s kind of my good luck charm. I can’t go on the catwalk without it. I left it on the side.”
“You stay here. I’ll go get it.”
I take off with a slight jog, I weaving through the crowds, taking a shortcut down a corridor, knowing it will shave a minute off my time.
People rush past me, and as I approach the exit I plan to use, a door swings open and a petite brunette in a red dress, who looks a lot like Gabby, exits a room being dragged by the hand by a tall, dark guy covered in tattoos.
What is she doing back here?
I don’t have a spare second to check; that’s a task for later. I push through the door, run down the narrow hall, and then flash my pass to the security guard and make my way into Ali’s dressing room.
As I rummage through the make up scattered around, something silver catches my eye, and I let out a sigh of relief when I spy the heart-shaped necklace with the letter H engraved on it.
My heart flutters at the same time as my stomach sinks.
What a thoughtful gift, and it occurs to me that Carson, or any man for that matter, has never given me anything like this.
The only thing Carson gave me was a promise ring which, looking back, was a guilt gift because he kissed another girl.
I pick up the necklace between my fingers, careful not to snag the chain, and almost drop it when the sound of the door closing startles me.
I spin to see Beckett in front of the door, dressed in black cargo-style pants, a security vest and black tee, his tattooed arms that turned me on in a way I didn’t expect, on full display.
His skin looks more golden than last year, suggesting he’s been exposed to the sun for some time.
My focus trails down his arms to his big, strong hands, hands that pinned my own above my head and held me in place while he pleasured my body in a way I didn’t know was possible.
I give my head a little shake to stop my trip down memory lane.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my words coming out breathy and rushed.
“I need to talk to you. I need to explain what happened, why I left you.” I avoid looking at him, instead focusing on the shiny silver necklace between my fingers.
“I’m busy. I don’t have time for your lame excuses, Beckett, and for you to confirm you are just like all the other men in this world.”
I move toward him, but he doesn’t flinch.
“I need to get this to Ali. Please move.” When his large frame adjusts, I begin to breathe again, but the air is stolen from my lungs when he grips my hips, spinning me and pinning me to the wall.
“What are you doing?” I cry, my chest heaving.
“You’re all I thought about…” The backs of his knuckles brush my cheek, and on instinct, I lean into his warm touch.
One I’ve longed to feel again since Christmas Eve.
“I’ve missed your smart mouth.” His lips ghosts mine and my eyes flutter shut, readying myself for our mouths to collide, but when it doesn’t come, I release an involuntary whimper.
I mentally chastise myself, because one touch from this man and I’m folding like a lawn chair.
Keep it together, Kennedy.
His large hand cups my jaw and lifts it so I’m forced to look at him. “Please give me a chance to explain.”
My eyes search his deep blue ones, and I see sincerity in them.
Maybe he does have a good reason for leaving, but I’m still so hurt.
I handed pieces of myself to this man, and he discarded them like trash, like I meant nothing.
I know I need to take some ownership for that.
We agreed it was one night, no strings, but I wasn’t expecting him to up and leave without a word.
“Beckett, I…” is all I manage before he continues.
“You’re all I’ve wanted these past eleven months, angel, and I’m sorry I left that way. I had to…” I press my finger to his lips, cutting off his words when a buzz comes through my headset, and Lunden’s voice rings out.
“Ken, where are you? Ali is walking in three minutes.” My body stiffens at her words. The necklace.
“Shit,” I hiss and push against Beckett's hard chest, in an attempt to move him.
“I have to go.” He steps back and I wriggle free.
My shaky hand reaches for the door handle, and I flee the dressing room, my heart thundering in my chest as my ballet pumps pound the hard floor to race back to Ali.
When I reach her, I am a panting mess. I manage to clip the necklace around her slender neck just in time as the beat of the music ramps up, strobe lights flash, and the signal for Ali to set off comes through my earpiece.
With a gentle nod from me, Ali straightens her spine, pulls back her shoulders, places her hands on her hips, and as Grace turns at the end point of the stage, Ali begins her descent of the catwalk looking every bit the pageant queen I know she used to be.
Lunden was helping Grace tonight, and we give each other a celebratory thumbs up.
We did it; we pulled it off. I hope tonight has been enough to land me a permanent position at the magazine when my internship is up in the new year, except next time I hope I am on the team that helps design the clothes. That is my ultimate dream.
The models line up, ready for the final walk, and as I direct them out one by one, someone comes up behind me, and I don’t need to look to know who it is. His familiar cedarwood scent wraps around me like a comfort blanket, and I lean back into his chest without a second thought.
“Come with me,” he whispers into my ear. I look around to check to see if anyone is watching us, then I gesture for him to follow me behind the curtain.
“Look, you can’t just—”
My words are stolen when his mouth crashes down on mine, and I moan.
I should stop it, pull back, but when his tongue dances with mine, all practical thinking leaves the room, the same way it did the last time, because with him, it all feels different.
He brings that version of me back out; the only version I seem to be able to be when I am him. The version I want to be.
“You know I’m mad at you, right? This changes nothing,” I pant between kisses.
“I figured that, angel.” His breathing matches mine.
My fingers push into his hair, which feels a little longer than last time, and I tug him closer, kissing him like he may disappear again if I don’t hold on for dear life.
This is completely reckless and stupid, but in this moment, I don’t care. I’d risk it all for just a few more moments with him, and that is both exhilarating and a terrifying notion.
Cheering and clapping explode from the other side of the curtain, disrupting our kiss, and he steps back when something in his pocket buzzes. He pulls out his phone and swipes the screen.
“Beckett.” He wipes the remnants of my lip gloss from his lips.
“Where?” Concern etches his face, and I lean in to try and hear the caller, but the cheering is too loud.
“I’ll be right there,” he confirms, before he ends the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket.
“I have to deal with something, but we aren’t done here.
Wait for me, okay? Please don’t leave.” His tone is firm and full of authority.
I want to push back, fight him, but when he presses a soft kiss to my forehead and exits through the curtain, I know I have no energy to argue and I can’t ignore the nagging feeling that maybe he’s walked back into my life for a reason.