29. Kate
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KATE
“That’s terrible,” I say. Drew’s just told me why he’s dressed in jeans at a pub with the groom instead of giving the champagne toast in a tux with coattails. Between his brother’s drama and ours, it’s safe to conclude the wedding is cursed or something.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Drew asks.
I chew my bottom lip. There’s so much I want to say to him, and at the same time, none of the words I can come up with seem right. So I simply speak the blunt truth. “I just felt blindsided today. You’re a Bonnaire. Why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t think there was some possibility that I might be working with your family’s firm?”
“Yes, but there are so many other venture capitalists in London. And I didn’t tell you my real last name because it’s so loaded. People treat me differently when they know. But you’re not from here. I didn’t think you knew anything about my family, and I guess I liked that. I liked that I was just a guy to you. I was Just Drew.”
It all adds up. I know he’s being sincere, but I still don’t like it. I don’t like feeling like I don’t know him. Or his friends. “And what about Collin? He’s your friend?”
“He’s not my friend anymore. Not after what he did to you. He’s been an asshole, so I took care of it.”
“Did you have him killed or something?” I ask with a scoff. Maybe the Bonnaires are the mafia too.
“No, just slugged him in the face.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, he deserved it,” Drew says, and I feel a little flutter in my stomach. I don’t condone violence, but the idea of Drew defending my honor by punching that jerk is really . . . hot. Still, what have I gotten myself into? Whatever it is. Whatever is going on between us. It’s going to end soon.
I look him in the eyes as cars pass along the wet roads. Water drips down from the edge of the roof, plunking near our feet. London skies cry often, and I know I must end this before I end up with the same fate. “I’m leaving tomorrow night, Drew.”
“Already? I thought you were staying longer.”
“I was, but it’s time for me to go home.” Then it settles in. This may be it. This may be the last time I see this man for the rest of my life. And it’s so . . . so . . . sad.
“Are you leaving early because of today?”
“It’s not just that. Business has picked up since the show. I need to get back to my office.”
“I see. You’re right. I guess it had to end sometime,” he says, lowering his head.
“Yeah.”
He runs his finger along my cheek, gazing into my eyes, and kisses me. All the angst I’ve been feeling all afternoon melts away. Then he envelops me in his arms, our hearts beating against one another. It’s alarmingly comforting. He kisses the top of my head. “I’m going to miss you being my girl.”
“Me too.” I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing there was more time. A way to carry on having the time of my life. But it wouldn’t last. More time with him would only make the separation worse. It already hurts more than I imagined.