Chapter fifteen Kendra #2
“What?” I snap. “Hidden behind the bar? Worn a disguise? It’s a party on fashion less than two weeks before Fashion Week. If you wanted to avoid me, why even come?”
My smile is rigid, possibly manic, but you never know when someone’s snapping a picture at these things. He follows my lead and keeps his face passive, though I notice a tick in his jaw.
“I wasn’t thinking. Noah offered me free tickets, so I came. That’s it.”
I down the last of my champagne and set it on a passing waiter’s tray.
“I’m surprised you could make it. With your new job, the games, and the fundraiser, I would’ve thought you didn’t have the time. Or was all that just made up so you wouldn’t have to see me?”
I didn’t realize how mad I was until I heard his dumb voice. Deep and smooth, and still able to pull a reaction from me. Dammit. He leans down the few inches that separate us to whisper in my ear.
“I’m down to have this conversation, but are you sure you want to do it here?”
A quick scan of the room proves his point; anyone could overhear us or, worse, record our conversation and post it online to be shared and reposted for weeks. I jerk my head no, and he places his hand on my elbow.
“OK. Why don’t we—”
“Kendra? Is that you?”
The blood in my veins turns to ice at the familiar voice calling out to me.
It used to give me goosebumps; now it just gives me indigestion.
Once again, I turn and come face to face with a man who’s rejected me.
A man who nearly got away with stealing tens of thousands of dollars of my savings while simultaneously screwing another woman. Correction: women!
My body must react, because Damon’s grip on me tightens.
“Are you OK? What’s happening?” he asks low enough for only me to hear.
There’s no time to explain. Andre and his sidepiece-turned-fiancée are incoming and closing fast. I look at him, my eyes pleading, and hope he understands what I’m about to do.
“Kendra! It’s been too long,” Andre drawls. Julie clings to his arm, preening in a Dolce I always have. “I hope we can be civil. We’re bound to keep running into each other.”
It’s bullshit. Andre could’ve easily avoided coming tonight.
He hardly came to my events when we were together, though he always insisted I tag along to his.
He showed up tonight hoping to see me, and even though I don’t want him back, it feels good.
Dropping your wife for a younger, skinnier model shouldn’t be easy.
I said “til death do us part,” yet he left at the first inconvenience.
“I am being civil. I’m here to kick off the busy fall season, chat with my colleagues, and enjoy a few drinks. My friend here decided to join me when he heard about the exhibit. How were we to know you’d even be here? This isn’t a music event.”
Andre’s smile turns into a sneer.
“You can’t call dibs on every fashion event in New York City. I was going to these events long before you, and I’ll keep going long after you’ve walked your last runway.”
Damon tightens his grip on my hip, and I can tell he’s holding himself back.
From what? Defending my honor? I sigh internally.
Leave it to me to find a chivalrous man who’s supportive of my work, dedicated to his community, blindingly handsome, and ready to commit… at exactly the wrong time in my life.
“Careful,” Damon almost growls, and I pat his arm.
“It’s fine, baby.” I add a saccharine lilt to the word. “Why don’t we get another round and check out the view from the rooftop garden?”
Damon really sells it, glaring at Andre before staring hungrily at me.
I unconsciously press my thighs together, hoping the slight friction from my panties will bring me some relief.
Possessive Damon is unbelievably sexy. He moves his hand to the small of my back and guides us away from a stammering Andre and his clueless date.
“Thanks,” I murmur when he hands me a Paloma from the bar. He orders a rum & Coke for himself.
I revel in the warm weight of his hand on my back as we make our way to the elevator, but he drops it once the doors close. Alone, there’s no reason to continue the ruse.
“What was that?” he demands as soon as we’re on the roof and away from listening ears. His anger radiates off of him in waves, and I shrink in response.
“That was my ex trying to get a rise out of me by showing up with his new fiancée. I really didn’t expect him to come.” We stand in silence for a few beats. “I didn’t expect you to come either.”
“You were right,” he admits, looking out at the glittering city. “I’ve been avoiding you. Things got…intense that first night. Emotions were high, so I thought it was safer to take a step back. Let things cool down.”
Safer. I felt safer than I ever had in his arms. That thought alone is scary. It’s too real.
“I’m really sorry about my freakout. I didn’t mean to—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he insists, a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Well…then why do we have to let things cool down? Why can’t we keep hanging out?”
He sighs and takes his hand away.
“Because, Kendra. That night? That kiss just now? They meant something to me.” He chuckles to himself and shakes his head.
“I know they weren’t supposed to, and judging by the show we put on for your ex, that’s not what you want.
But I’m at a point in my life where I’m done with the games.
I feel something more with you and, if that’s not where you’re at, we should just… be friends.”
“Friends,” I say flatly.
He shrugs.
“I think that’s best. You can focus on your upcoming season and your work with Denise. I’ll focus on getting settled back home and with a new team. It’s a win-win.”
If this is winning, why does my chest feel tight? I nod, resigned.
“Friends.”
It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the way things have to be. I stay on the roof long after the elevator doors close behind him, and when my eyes begin to water, I blame the alcohol.