31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter thirty-one
Kennedy
Tristan’s alarm wakes me from a peaceful rest. His hand trails up my bare thigh, over my hip, and across my stomach before pulling me closer. Our warm skin meets, and I melt into his embrace. Nuzzling my hair with his nose, he peppers tiny kisses down my neck before nipping at my shoulder.
“Morning, beautiful.” His voice is rough with sleep.
Tristan’s fingers trace lazy circles across my waist as goosebumps break over my skin, and desire pools between my thighs. My hand finds his, and I intertwine our fingers.
“Morning.” Shifting closer, I enjoy a few more moments of blissful serenity before the day's chaos begins.
“As much as I want to lay in bed with you all day, we’ve got to get up.”
I groan as Tristan leans over me and kisses my cheek. Rolling over in his arms, I toss a leg over his hip. He grumbles at the contact.
“Are you sure?” My hips thrust forward, and I feel his morning wood.
“Firecracker,” he warns .
“Fine. Fine.” I untangle myself from our connection as I fling off the covers. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I press my bare feet against the cool floor.
“Shower?” I ask over my shoulder, and I already know his answer before I see the heat flare in his hazel eyes.
As I move past him in the connected bathroom, he reaches out. With a gentle tug, my hands land on his chest while his lands on each side of my face.
“You’re not getting away that easy.”
“I wasn’t running away. I was racing you to get to the shower spray first.”
A huff of laughter leaves his lips before he lowers his mouth to mine. Tristan presses a gentle, lingering kiss, which leaves us both smiling. When he pulls back, a lopsided grin spreads over his swollen lips as if he’s proud of the reaction he’s caused.
With a smack to my bare ass, I gasp at the slight burn and watch as he retreats to the bathroom.
“Hey, you distracted me.”
Only his deep timber can be heard as I chase after him.
The morning continues with a comfortable silence and quiet conversation. That is, once Tristan finally let me out of the shower, which he said he wouldn’t do until I came twice.
As we move through our routine, we both brush our teeth together, shoulders bumping as we share foam-covered smiles in the mirror. I apply my makeup while he shaves his neck. Slipping a shirt off a hanger, his nimble fingers work each button while I add the finishing spray to my hair .
There’s no rush in our moments, just the two of us, and it’s when I’m realizing I feel at ease, like this could be our future.
The two of us walked into the lobby, hand-in-hand, much like we’ve done for the last couple of weeks, but today feels different. After pouring us each a mug of coffee, Tristan handed me mine before taking a seat farther away.
Something feels off, and I can’t help but feel the shift of energy among us as we wait for his family and additional executives to arrive. My eyes float around the lobby, and even if I don’t feel totally at ease, I still smile around my mug.
Everything looks amazing. It’s hard to believe this is the same resort we stepped foot in almost five weeks ago. The lobby is a beautiful representation of all the hard work and the perfect depiction of my renderings. Sleek, modern lines blend effortlessly with the island’s natural charm. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the dancing sunlight from outside. And I will admit, Tristan’s idea of moving the entrance was a good decision.
Even the subtle details from local makers and island colors are exactly how we planned it. I should be proud. Hell, I am proud. But my focus keeps drifting to the broody man near me—his body is tight with a stiffness that hasn’t been here since before we arrived.
A slight salty breeze drifts through the open doors, and my gaze slides to him as I try to read what is going on behind his stormy eyes. A crease forms between his eyebrows as he stares intently at his phone, fingers flying over his screen .
With his dad arriving back on the island, is he feeling the pressure again? He shouldn’t be. Tristan did an incredible job on this project, and he should be so proud. I know I’m proud of him. For once, I was able to see past the persona he puts on for everyone else and see the real Tristan Nelson. The guy who wants to be accepted for who he really is. It’s what made me fall in love with him.
My stomach twists as uncertainty washes over me. Or is it because he soft-launched us on social media? There’s no plan for how we continue our relationship. Am I going to lose my job for sleeping with my boss? Oh my gosh, what if he regrets us?
He must feel me observing him because his eyes bounce up to meet mine. I flash him a look, which he reads. Only, instead of answering me, he flashes me a wink that does little to comfort me. It only leaves me more confused.
Maybe I’m reading too much into his mood shift? Maybe he’s nervous about the grand opening? He turns back to his phone, as if nothing is wrong, and I’m left to stew in silence with a nagging feeling I can’t quite shake.
Before I can dwell any longer, the sound of voices filters through the open doors of the lobby. Mr. Nelson, Xander, Victoria, and the rest of the team of executives enter with an air of authority and confidence.
I move to my feet, smoothing my sleeveless dress with shaky hands, suddenly feeling too exposed. Too raw. Too…small. Insecurity hits me like a tidal wave, and I fight with all of my strength not to cower in my heels. The group takes their time walking toward us, their gazes taking in the changes.
“Good morning,” I greet, working overtime to keep the shakiness from my voice .
Mr. Nelson gives me a tight-lipped smile and a terse nod. Xander flashes me a wink, but it’s Victoria who gives me the warmest welcome. Her smile is blinding as her eyes glimmer with excitement. This is her doing too. Her designs have brought this space to life.
It’s so good to see her again.
Tristan steps up next to me, and a gentle touch caresses my lower back. It feels like a silent reassurance, almost as if he’s grounding me.
“The space looks incredible.” Victoria’s voice is full of awe as she moves deeper into the room. I smile as she grazes her fingers over the coral-colored pillows.
Mr. Nelson observes like he’s cataloguing each new detail, his critical gaze scanning every inch of the renovation. Soft murmurs from the others can be heard behind me, but their opinions don’t matter, only Mr. Nelson’s. His silence makes my heart race as I wait for his reaction.
Everything is riding on this moment. My design. My vision for the resort. My future in this company. He’s the owner of this development, and what he says next will either validate everything or…destroy it. No matter if Tristan, Xander, and Victoria all love the property.
Xander breaks the silence first by throwing me a lifeline. “The lobby flows well with the island theme. I love the modernization with the soft beiges rather than the darker browns.”
“It feels more natural,” I explain, defending my vision. Xander smiles and gives me a small, approving nod as he mouths, breathe . I do as he says and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. When Mr. Nelson doesn’t say anything, the room falls into an awkward silence.
My chest tightens, and I search for Tristan for support. He’s standing stiffly, with his hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. I notice he’s standing a little farther away from me than I would like. But I’m not the kind of girl who needs a man at her side. No, I’m Kennedy Reed. I’m confident, hardworking, and can stand up for myself.
Mr. Nelson lets out a heavy breath as he turns his attention back to the group. “What’s the status of the villas?”
Steeling my shoulders, I find his gaze. “We are still three to four weeks out. However, the exterior construction is complete and only the interior finishes need to be finished.”
“I see.”
“The interior construction shouldn’t hinder the guests' experiences,” I add.
Mr. Nelson crosses his arms as he watches me intently. “I would hope not. We don’t need any complaints about noise, not on top of everything else.”
Tristan starts to interject, but I beat him to it. I refuse to let him talk over me, as if I can’t handle the scrutiny from his father. “We’ve installed sound barriers for the construction zones, and we’ve worked with the crews to ensure that working hours won’t be during peak guest hours. Each room will also receive a complimentary basket with ear plugs, champagne, and a few other local specialties.”
Mr. Nelson huffs in response as he mills over my words.
“We’re working around the clock, and like Kennedy said, we’ve thought it through, and the guests won’t experience anything negative that we can’t combat with a solution.”
“A lot is riding on this opening,” Mr. Nelson says as his eyes meet mine. “Thank you for your hard work. The jet will be departing in two hours to take you back to New York. ”
My stomach drops to my feet. “Wait, what? I’m leaving?”
You could hear a pin drop. Mr. Nelson turns his attention from me to Tristan. “Your work here is done, Miss Reed. We’ll handle the rest here.”
I blink, feeling completely blindsided as nausea rolls through me. How can I be dismissed so easily? The amount of press that will be here and I won’t be featured at all. I designed this renovation, I’ve seen it through from sketches to reality, and now I’m being told I won’t even be there to witness the benefits of all that hard work.
A burning sensation fills my eyes, but I refuse to show weakness. I shift my weight, glancing at Tristan, searching for some sign that he’s as frustrated as I am. But all I get is that distance again. That wall .
And that’s when the sinking feeling intensifies.
He knew .
It all makes sense now.
My mind flashes back to the last twenty-four hours. Last night’s perfect date. How he worshiped my body. The gentle way we woke up this morning. To fucking me one last time in the shower. And then the distance he was showing me afterward. I knew there was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t all in my head.
It was all his way of saying goodbye. He refused to be a good person and give me the heads-up.
My heart clenches as pain erupts throughout my body, taking my breath away. I feel my heart break in half, and it has me wanting to physically curl in on myself. But I won’t. He won’t get that satisfaction.
“I guess that’s it, then.”
“Yes,” Mr. Nelson says. “A car will take you to the airport. ”
He turns to Tristan, focusing his attention on him and not me, the person who just had the rug ripped from underneath her. His deep timbered voice demands, “Show me the rest of the resort.”
As some of the executives start to follow Mr. Nelson, I look up at a stoic-faced Tristan.
“We’re done,” I say sharply before spinning on my heel, not allowing him a chance to say anything back. Today, I’m having the last word. I storm off to the penthouse to gather my things as anger takes the place of my broken heart.