37. Kendall
Kendall
“What?” I ask as he looks down at me with a thoughtful, contemplative gaze. I’m curled up against his chest, my legs resting in his lap, his arms tightly wrapped around me. Leftover Styrofoam takeout containers and fortune cookie wrappers are strewn across the coffee table in front of us.
“Nothing, you’re just so fucking beautiful I have to remind myself to breathe sometimes,” he responds cupping my face in his hands and I melt into his touch.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, incapable of accepting this compliment or any compliment for that matter. “You give all the girls that line?” I ask, picking imaginary lint from the bottom of my shirt.
He sits up, shifting his body towards me and resting on his elbow. “No, I don’t. And it’s not a line if it’s true,” he says sternly.
“Okay,” I tip my chin in defiance. “Give me one example where you thought I was so pretty you couldn’t breathe,” I challenge, completely unprepared for his answer.
“Senior year homecoming. Before we even started dating,” he replies without missing a beat.
“You came to my house in that black silk dress, your hair was up but there were a few curls hanging by your face. You were wearing your silver bracelet from your grandmother and I remember thinking, Holy shit, I’m going to have a panic attack because of how gorgeous she is.
In my head, I had to count back from twenty to catch my breath. ”
I’m staring at him slack jawed, but he keeps on going.
“Cabo spring break, when we were juniors. We fucked in the hot tub twice, the shower multiple times, but my favorite was the beach right by our villa. We were still a little tipsy from day drinking and you had a mischievous look in your eyes on the way home from dinner. You somehow convinced me that sex on the beach was an amazing idea, and you were right. Like always. I laid you down on a towel in the sand, your hair fanned out around you. Your skin was soft and radiant and your cheeks a little sunburnt. I couldn’t stop staring at you.
I never wanted to freeze a moment in time so badly.
And god your smile, it filled me up. I wanted to drown in it, bask in its warmth forever.
I loved that you were smiling like that for me, because of me.
I deliberately took my time. I wanted to memorize every inch of you. ”
And apparently, he had. I’m working hard to fight back tears at this point.
I remember that day vividly. It happened exactly like he said.
And somehow with the waves crashing at our feet and the trees overhead rustling in the breeze, the air thick and hot with possibilities and him undressing me with his eyes, drinking me in like he had never seen me naked before, it felt like our very first time all over again.
Like this perfect slice of paradise had been carved out specifically for us.
“Why?” I ask, terrified of the answer yet hanging on his every word.
“Because even then I knew what I was looking at. I knew I was staring at my future—that I was trying to memorize my wife.”
“Kai…” but what could I possibly say to that? I’m not sure I have any words.
“You want me to keep going? I could, all night. How about when you first wake up and you’re so goddamn grumpy, it’s dangerous to talk to you before you’ve had a cup of coffee.
Your crazy curls everywhere, usually a little spit in the corner of your mouth, wearing nothing but baggy clothes and no makeup.
Even and especially then you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. ”
“Kai,” I choke out.
“Kendall,” he utters my name like a plea and a promise. Then he delicately brushes my knuckles across his lips.
“Why are you crying?” he whispers. Because he sees me.
Because he sees through my hardened exterior to the person I am underneath.
He knows me in ways that no one else can.
Even now, after everything. Sometimes I feel like he knows me better than I know myself, unearthing truths I have only whispered in the deepest recesses of my mind.
Because he remembers everything about us, every perfect and imperfect detail of our relationship—even when it’s been agonizing.
And here I am, rifling through his private thoughts, holding them hostage because I’m too fucking insecure.
“Kai, you’re just,” I turn away and shake my head, unable to look at him. “You’re too damn good for this world. You’re pure and honest and so fucking genuine. And I want to be the kind of person that deserves you,” I explain, hesitant to go any further.
“I don’t know if I’d call myself pure,” he laughs. “And you do deserve me. We are good for each other,” he replies in a way that tells me I’ve lost this argument.
“Maybe,” I say. “I guess I wasn’t expecting everything you said either. I had assumed you probably tried to forget about us, the good and the bad.”
“I figured it was better to live with the ghost of you than pretend we never happened. I mean, for the record, I did try to forget, a lot. But...”
“But?” I pry.
“You’re impossible to forget,” he concedes.
I could give him something, this much at least.
“So are you, and I’m sorry. That you had to do that. And for how much I hurt you.”
“It’s okay. We’re here now. That’s what matters,”
Kai understands that my unique love languages are reassurance and words of affirmation and he’s incredibly fluent in both. He’s the only person that can make me feel like I’m both the most stunning and most important person in the room.
Kai knows that for me, to be loved is to feel beautiful and worthy—because it’s taken my whole fucking life to convince myself I’ve earned that privilege. And some days, I still fall short of both.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I have Kai. And the curve of his smile and the creases of his eyes make my heart twist and flip and ache all at once. And this man thinks I’m breathtaking. Tonight, I deserve his love, adoration, and kind words.
Self-loathing can wait until tomorrow.