Chapter 23Lovesick Lunatic – Kerry
Chapter 23
Lovesick Lunatic – Kerry
I feel completely exposed.
Stripped bare in a way that has nothing to do with my body and everything to do with my heart, my past, my pain.
Without meaning to, without even realizing it, I’ve given Vic pieces of me that no one has ever held before—pieces I spent years hiding, locking away so deep that even I had forgotten they existed.
And yet, in his hands, they feel safe.
Secure.
Cherished.
It’s a stark contrast, an undeniable shift from the world I knew with Cory—where love was a battlefield and where pain was the price of affection.
But with Vic?
It’s different.
It’s steady.
It’s grounding.
I like this version of love better.
Maybe even more than that…
maybe I want it.
Dr.
Watkins sits across from me in the armchair at my parents’ home while I pace the living room during my weekly Saturday therapy.
I should sit.
I should try to relax.
But I can’t.
I can’t because so much is happening in my life, and it’s all a bit too much.
So, I frantically tell him everything .
About Cory.
About finally having a fighting chance to take him down.
About the possibility of being vindicated for all the pain he put me through.
But I also express my fear—that just like before, my hope will be smothered and money and power will be used against me, crushing any hope of justice.
Then, I talk about Vic.
About how this fake relationship was supposed to be easy, but now it isn’t.
About how I don’t know if his feelings for me are real, if mine are real, or if I even deserve to have these feelings at all .
“I mean, is it even okay for me to date?” I ask, shaking my head as my voice rises with frustration.
“It’s been years. And Cory was the only real relationship I’ve ever had. What if I’m just clinging to Vic because he’s safe? Because he treats me better than I’ve ever been treated? What if I’m confusing safety for love?”
Dr.
Watkins folds his hands, nodding thoughtfully.
“Kerry, have you ever heard the phrase ‘just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s wrong’?”
I blink, unsure where he’s going with this.
“Yeah…”
“What you had with Cory was wrong. It was unhealthy. It was abusive. So, of course, what you have with Vic feels different. Of course, it feels strange, even scary. You’re not used to being treated well. You’re not used to being wanted for the right reasons. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real . ” He pauses.
“And it definitely doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
My throat tightens, and my hands curl into my lap.
“But what if it’s just for—”
“Safety? Comfort? Convenience?” Dr.
Watkins tilts his head, his voice gentle but firm.
“Love should make you feel safe. Love should give you comfort. Love should give you the convenience of being yourself without fear. Love should be a refuge, a place where you are seen, heard, and cherished exactly as you are. Let me ask you this, when you think of Vic, see him with his daughters, hear his voice, when you’re in his space… do you feel love?”
The question hits me so hard that I nearly stop breathing.
Because I know the answer.
Dr.
Watkins smiles knowingly.
“See? Your heart already knows the truth. The real question is, are you going to let your fears dictate your future happiness?”
I look away, my voice small.
“I don’t want to, but what if I get hurt?”
“Then, at least you got to love. At least you got to experience something good. Something healthy. Don’t let fear make choices for you, Kerry.”
After my therapy session, I feel more confident about my feelings, and I’m ready to accept something different, something healthy, something right.
So, I decide to text Vic.
No more second-guessing.
No more pushing my feelings aside.
It’s time to put myself first—my wants, my desires, my happiness.
A love for myself.
And maybe…
a love with him.
Vic, we need to talk.
I can’t fake this anymore.
I hit send.
And then I wait.
And wait .
And an hour later, my phone finally rings, and relief floods through me.
But when I glance at the screen, my stomach sinks.
It’s not Vic.
It’s Vicky.
I groan, answering.
“Hi, Vicky. I’m off on weekends. What’s up?”
She sighs so hard into the phone I swear I feel the breeze.
“It’s Vic.”
I sit up, immediately on edge.
“What happened?”
“The producers called him in for a reshoot, and he lost his damn mind. We’re at the studio, and he’s being beyond difficult. Won’t cooperate, won’t listen, won’t even let Krista do her job. And he refuses to smile on camera. He’s miserable, Kerry.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Well, you know he hates working on weekends. Those are his days with the girls.”
“I know, Kerry,” she groans.
“But this was out of my control. And now, I’m this close to losing it because he won’t snap out of it. You know him better than anyone nowadays. Is something else going on with him?”
I rub my forehead.
“I don’t think so…”
But then I glance at my phone.
At my text.
The one he never responded to.
Oh.
Oh .
Wait a minute .
Could I have thrown him off his game?
Did he misinterpret what I was saying?
Crap, maybe I should’ve said, ‘ I can’t fake this anymore because I actually want to be with you, ’ Oh God.
Did I just accidentally fake break-up with him?
“I’m on my way.”
I exhale sharply, grab the keys to Vic’s Aston Martin, the one I’ve been driving for months, and head straight to the studio.
I fly through town, gripping the wheel so tight my fingers ache.
I shouldn’t be laughing.
I shouldn’t.
But the visual of Vic—all stoic, composed, always in control having an outright meltdown over a single text message?
It’s ridiculous.
It’s flattering.
And it’s a problem.
Because if I don’t fix this, there’s a very real chance he’ll burn the whole production studio to the ground.
By the time I pull up to the studio, I spot Vicky and Hudson standing outside with their arms crossed and looking like they’re witnessing a crime scene.
Hudson shakes his head, exasperated but entertained.
“I’ve never seen Vic act like such a lunatic. Do something, Kerry. ”
I blow out a breath.
“I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to do, but I’ll try.”
The second I step foot on set, I’m tackled by two little bodies.
Syd and Ari launch themselves at me.
Their tiny arms squeeze me tight before they pull back and flash mischievous grins.
Their faces say it all.
Daddy is losing it.
And when I lift my gaze toward the chaos unfolding in front of me, I see it for myself.
Vic stands in the middle of it all.
His shoulders are tight, and his jaw is locked.
His entire aura radiates, ‘do not test me today . ’ A dozen crew members hover around him, scrambling to redirect, adjust lighting, and fix whatever the hell they think will make him cooperate.
But nothing is working.
And then there’s Krista.
Poor Krista, doing her best to deal with Vic’s tantrum.
He’s stubborn, and I often feel bad for her.
The truth is, we’ve grown surprisingly civil since that night at Maxine’s.
In some ways, I feel protective of her.
It’s not easy breaking free from someone who’s manipulated your mind and emotions, and while she holds it together around others, it’s the quiet moments, the ones when she’s alone, that worry me the most.
“Vic, just let me cut the peppers, okay?” She fusses, her patience wearing thin.
His voice cuts through the set, sharp and final.
“You’re cutting them two centimeters too big! If my old eyes can see that, what’d you think the camera can see?”
With embarrassment written all over her face, she falls back.
“Fine,” she huffs.
“I was just trying to help, but since you wanna be rude, I’ll leave you be. Or better yet, how ‘bout I call Kerry? You wouldn’t dare act like this if she was around.”
I watch, his frustration boiling over as he fires back.
“Well, Kerry isn’t here, is she?!” His grip tightens on the knife, his movements sharp, cutting faster, more frantically.
But then…
he stills.
The tension in his shoulders shifts, and his hand falls to the counter.
For a moment, he just breathes.
Then, like a quiet, devastating realization, his whispered words slip out.
“Kerry’s not here.”
“But I am.” The words leave my mouth before I even think, sharp and steady, cutting through the set .
And Vic?
He looks up immediately.
His entire body locks into place like he’s been struck by lightning.
His eyes find mine, and in them, I see everything—his frustration, the longing, his pain, and his barely contained relief.
“Kerry.” He says my name in a whisper.
The room shifts.
The chaos quiets.
And as I step onto the set, everyone moves aside like I’m parting the Red Sea to save a sinking ship.
Vic’s chest rises and falls.
His breathing is uneven and tension still simmers just beneath the surface.
His fingers flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me.
But I don’t make him wait.
I lift my hand, gently placing my palm against his cheek, and the second I do, his eyes close shut.
Vic leans into my touch, his exhale ragged like he’s been holding his breath for hours, like I’m the only one that can steady him.
And the hug that follows isn’t just a hug.
It’s a homecoming.
Vic pulls me into him with an unrelenting grip.
His head dips, and his lips brush against the shell of my ear.
His voice is so low and raw and just for me.
“Please don’t leave me, Kerry Kind. I can’t lose anyone else.” His breath hitches, his grip tightening like he’s terrified I’ll slip away.
“I can’t do this without you.”
My heart pounds, and my fingers press into his back.
I squeeze my eyes shut as if I’ve been waiting for this for years—to be wanted, to be needed.
“You can’t do what, Vic?”
Slowly, so slowly, he lifts his head.
Just enough for our foreheads to touch.
Just enough for our lips to be a breath apart.
Just enough for me to feel the storm raging inside him.
Then his endlessly dark eyes open and drown me in a depth of emotion so devastatingly deep it nearly consumes me.
He threads his fingers through my hair, his thumb skims my jaw, and when he speaks, his voice is barely more than a tremor.
“I can’t wake up without you in my world. I can’t go a day without hearing your voice or seeing your face, without knowing you’re safe. I can’t go a single day without feeling you—somewhere, anywhere.” His forehead presses harder against mine, his breath uneven, his heart pounding so loud I swear it’s calling for me.
“I lost the love of my life once, Kerry.” His lips barely graze my cheek, not quite a kiss, just a lingering, desperate hold.
“I’ll be damned if I lose it a second time. You’re it for me. The one I was meant to find. My second chance. My forever. I won’t let you slip away.”
His words land like a brand scorching my skin, leaving an imprint so deep it’ll never fade.
My breath stutters, and my pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch as he cradles my face.
I know what’s coming.
I feel it.
I want it.
But, like I have so many times before, I question whether I deserve what I want so badly.
“But kissing isn’t part of the syllabus.” I whisper.
A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
His grip tightens, and his fingers thread deeper into my hair as he tilts my chin just enough to claim every bit of my attention.
His breath fans over my lips.
Teasing me, lingering, and daring me to stop him.
But I don’t.
“Well, Ms. Kind,” he murmurs, voice rough, deep, devastating, “consider this my extra credit.”
Then, finally, he does it.
Vic’s lips brush against mine, at first soft.
A whisper of a kiss.
A question.
A promise.
But the moment I answer, the moment I press back, my world turns upside down.
His mouth devours me, slow but deep, like he’s tasting something he’s craved for so long that he forgot what it felt like to be satisfied.
He sweeps his tongue against mine while his hands slide down my back, pressing me closer, pressing me against every hard, unforgiving inch of him.
I gasp.
He groans.
And then it’s all heat, all need, all fire.
I fist my hands in his shirt, pulling, gripping, demanding more because I don’t just want him to kiss me.
I want him to ruin me.
And he does.
My lungs scream for air, but I refuse to break away.
Not yet.
Not when this is the first time I’ve ever truly been kissed.
Not when this is the first time I’ve ever truly been wanted.
And just when I think I’ll collapse, just when I think he’ll let up and let me breathe, Vic grips the back of my neck, tilts my head, and kisses me even deeper.
Unfortunately, reality slams back into us when a sharp, jarring whistle pierces through the studio.
“And… CUT! ”
Vic and I freeze.
Our lips are still brushing.
Our bodies are still pressed together.
The heat between us is still an inferno.
All the while, the entire cast, production, and film crew are staring at us.
The director stands with his arms crossed, looking half amused, half in shock.
The crew is eating this up.
Some have their mouths hanging open.
A few camera operators share looks.
The makeup artist fans herself, and the sound guy winks at me.
A voice from behind a camera snickers, “Well, Chef, if this whole cooking thing doesn’t pan out, you’ve got a solid career in romance movies.”
Laughter erupts.
Vic blinks, his chest still heaving from our kiss.
His grip on my waist is still firm, but the corner of his lips tilt into a slow, smug smirk.
He’s not even embarrassed.
I, on the other hand, am mortified.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my fingers pressing against my lips as I pull away.
“I can’t believe I just did that in front of everyone, on camera!”
Vic lets out a low chuckle, rubbing his jaw like he’s not even remotely sorry.
The director claps his hands together, looking way too pleased.
“No need to apologize, Ms. Kind. That was T.V. gold.”
My humiliation peaks, but Vic is even-keeled and back to normal.
Then, I gently rest my hand on his chest, my eyes narrowing.
“Please, be nice to everyone, Vic.” I say, loud enough for the whole set to hear.
A few chuckles ripple through the crew, but Vic just arches a brow.
He steps forward, his hand still resting warm and steady against my back, then looks out at the team.
With a deep, exasperated sigh, he finally concedes.
“All right, folks,” he announces, voice smooth and composed, as if he hadn’t just been caught throwing a tantrum.
“Let’s get back to work.”
The tension on the set dissipates and is replaced with amusement.
The crew moves back into position, the cameras reset, and everything starts falling back into rhythm.
But just as I turn to step away, Vic lifts my hand and presses the softest, most delicate kiss to the top of it.
I barely have time to catch my breath before two small hands tug at mine.
I look down to find Ari beaming up at me.
She rests her head against my leg and looks up at me with the most pure, innocent eyes .
Syd is right beside her, ready for me to lift her into my arms.
And I do then hug her close, squeezing her just as tight as she’s squeezing me.
In the midst of our cuddles, she tilts her head and asks with hopeful eyes, “ Now can you come to our house tonight?”
My chest tightens, swells, aches.
These girls want me in their home.
In their world.
In their hearts.
I let out a breathy laugh, hugging Syd even closer.
“Only if your daddy will have me.”
Ari giggles, the purest and softest sound, while leaning into me even more.
“Of course he will, Ms. Kind. Daddy loves you. And so do we.”
My heart shatters in the best way.
And as I look up, my gaze locks on Vic’s.
He’s watching me, watching them, watching us.
At this moment, I’ve never belonged anywhere more than I belong here.
With him.
With them.
And as Vic steps in front of the camera, composed, charismatic, and so effortlessly in his element, I know I’m witnessing the beginning of something much bigger than just a show.
I know I’m witnessing the beginning of us.