Chapter thirty - three Kendra
Chapter thirty-three
Kendra
And…done! I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the runway.
Each sway of my hips jostles the jingle bells on my belt and I giggle a little.
The annual Christmas benefit for the Elias Wallace Children’s Hospital may not be the most fashion forward, but it’s fun and for a good cause.
Several of the patients in stable condition got to watch from the first row, laughing as we ripped the runway in Santa Chic.
Daniela approaches with a full set of antlers and a blinking red nose.
“Thank you so much for letting me know about this!” she gushes, pulling me into a bear hug. “It sucks being so far from home for the holidays, but the kids’ faces almost make up for it.”
“Of course, girl! They have it every year, and the costumes keep getting sillier!”
She giggles, and I give her another squeeze before walking the rest of the way to the changing room. There’s tinsel and Christmas lights everywhere.
After the stunt he pulled, I won’t be spending Christmas with my dad, even though it means missing out on time with Debbie. Our brunch was a blast, and we already have another one set for the new year.
Denise and Cory are taking the rest of the month off to bone like snow bunnies before spending the holidays with the rest of the Parks. Including Damon.
I sigh. A break was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.
It doesn’t mean I don’t miss him every day and think about calling the whole thing off.
But no. Fuck that! He needs to decide if he wants to be with me, or if he’s going to run scared any time someone talks out the side of their mouth at him. Or me. Or us!
That leaves Uncle Cordell and Jeremiah. Aunt Meredith is stuck working the Christmas shift again, so we’re going to make decorated cookies to bring for her and the other nurses.
It’s not the holiday I thought I’d have, but I love spending time with my mom’s side of the family, especially if it comes with honey-glazed ham and a holiday movie marathon.
And thank God I’m not trapped on another cruise ship with Andre’s family! The Caribbean is beautiful, but as a born and raised New Yorker, I believe there should be snow on Christmas.
I change into my boots and pea coat, ready to brave the elements.
Not only is New York delivering on the snow, but it also gave me the early gift of canceling Andre.
When his little fatphobic rant went viral, all three of his background singers (including his ex-fiancée) quit.
He lost sponsorship deals, his agent, and his big Christmas show at “The Garden” was postponed indefinitely. His choirboy image is long gone.
It was eye-opening, to say the least. Before everything that happened, I never believed a man like him would actually face the consequences of his actions.
There’d always be an NDA, a label, or fans on social media there to ensure they got off scot-free.
But now Morty is sitting on six interview requests asking for my side of the story, and it seems like the perfect time to drop my public smile and get real for once.
I might even answer questions about Hector Viega; see if his precious reputation protects him after I air all his dirty laundry.
I push through the heavy double doors to the street behind the building, ready to slip into my car and then into a warm bubble bath, when I spot a familiar face mixed in with the smokers and waitstaff.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I stop three feet away, hoping it’s enough distance to hide my reaction to him.
Damon hands me a small bouquet of pink and white camellias.
“You told The Curvy Fashionista they were your favorite,” he murmurs tentatively.
Of course he would remember some obscure fact I mentioned eons ago! How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at him when he’s this thoughtful? I bring the flowers to my nose and inhale, unable to help myself.
“You didn’t answer why you were here,” I repeat, softer this time. He shrugs.
“I’m here because you’re here.”
My breath hitches.
“It’s that simple, huh?”
He shrugs again.
“Anywhere you are is where I want to be.”
I take a step closer, still unsure.
“Why didn’t you come inside?”
“For one, you need a ticket, and Noah has been MIA for work, so he couldn’t snag one. And two, I worried I might be a distraction. Things aren’t exactly on solid ground between us.”
“And whose fault is that?” I reply coolly.
“Mine. It’s all my fault,” he replies with his hands out. “I let Andre’s bullshit get to me. I acted like you weren’t worth dealing with all the extra attention. I doubted your feelings for me. It was all my fault.”
I huff, disconcerted.
“You’re kinda taking the wind out of my sails here, Damon.”
He has the nerve to smile.
“Do you want to stay mad at me?”
“Yes!” I insist. “You can’t just show up with my favorite flowers and expect everything to be all good.”
His face goes serious, and he takes a step towards me. I let him pull me into his arms because I’m weak and horny as hell.
“I don’t expect everything to be all good. I fucked up. You should punish me accordingly.”
I almost writhe against him. Punish?! My kitty starts purring at the thought of dominating him again. I’ll make him crawl before I give him even a taste. It’ll be the most exquisite torture…for the both of us.
“You knew what you were doing when you said that, didn’t you?” I whine, biting my lip. He cracks a smile.
“All’s fair in love and war, baby.”
We both go quiet, sizing each other up. I’m the first to break the silence.
“Love, huh?” I murmur, scared to say the word too loud lest it shatter like an icicle on the street. “Is that what this is?”
“It is for me,” he answers, his voice strong. He squeezes me tight against him. “You’re the love of my life, Kendra. Please forgive me for being too dumb or too scared to tell you sooner.”
“But…,” I swallow, suddenly hoarse. “I’m broken. Are you sure you want someone who’s damaged goods as the love of your life?”
He looks into my eyes, and it’s all there. All his love, his understanding, his certainty about us. It’s intoxicating.
“In sports, injuries are common,” he says, moving his hands up and down my arms in that soothing way of his. “A sprain or a broken bone.” He shakes his head.
“A sprain might cost you a game or two. A broken bone might take you out for a whole season, if it’s bad enough. But bone...”
He leans in to kiss me slowly, sweetly, then pulls back.
“Bone almost always heals back stronger than before. You are stronger because of what you’ve been through, not in spite of it. You’re not broken.”
My heart clenches almost painfully in my chest.
“Well, shit,” I say through watery eyes. “That was just about perfect.”
This time, I lean in, kissing him deeper, letting him feel all the unfulfilled need of our time apart. When we finally come up for air, we’re breathing heavily, resting our foreheads together for support.
“I love you too, by the way,” I whisper into his neck. “I have for a while now.”
He kisses my temple.
“I know. Now let’s get out of here and start making up.”
I laugh at his brashness, but I love it. I love him. Not for who he isn’t, but for who he is. When we kiss a final time before getting into the car, a camera shutter opens and closes in the distance.