Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
ZIGGY
Iglare at the basket Queenie left, almost certain this is a bad idea. No matter how many times she told me that romance is sweet and thoughtful, when I’d asked if she’d ever been in love, her confused “why bother?” didn’t fill me with confidence.
I didn’t have an answer for that.
The thing is, while Queenie might enjoy being social and dating whoever she wants to date, that isn’t me. I’m having enough trouble dating one man. The anxiety that fills me over trying to juggle partners makes me want to burrow into the ground.
If things don’t work out with Kennedy, I don’t see them working out with anyone.
Not necessarily because I don’t see myself trying again, but because I don’t want to try again.
Kennedy feels right. He feels like the person I’ve been waiting for.
There’s no way that type of connection comes along regularly, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose it.
I cast another doubtful glance at the basket.
It’s getting late, and after a day of silence yesterday, and him being weird and standoffish today, I’m getting worried that I’m already close to losing it.
I’d been prepared for a boyfriend I couldn’t get rid of, and now it’s like I have to preschedule time with him.
I’m not sure if Kennedy was exaggerating with his past relationships or if it’s all a me problem.
All I know is that I refuse to let this eat at me too.
My emotions are constantly buried, bound into a tight package and hidden so far back in my mind that I can’t focus on them. It’s helped protect me, but it hasn’t helped me live.
Kennedy makes me want to live.
Just as I’m about to give up on him coming, a figure lurches out of the trees and makes me jump.
“I’m so sorry!” he pants. “I was waiting on the car, then it was getting late, so I called Hart, and he was still an hour away, so I figured I’d walk, but I took two wrong turns and …
” Kennedy shakes his head as he crosses the grass toward me.
“All I knew was that if I kept taking the paths up, I’d find you eventually, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t getting worried when the sun disappeared.
” He pauses in front of me and takes me in with soft eyes. “Hey.”
I’m so happy to see him, I catch him in a kiss. I hope he knows I’m saying hello and I’m glad he’s here and thank fuck he didn’t get lost all at once. Relief is seeping through me as well, and when he pulls back and smiles at me, it’s the one I’m so used to seeing from him.
“So, what are we …” His gaze falls to the picnic basket. “Are you taking me on an actual date?”
I wrinkle my nose, not sure how to answer that, and pick up the basket. Then I head for the trees while Kennedy trails after me.
I’m so nervous over this stupid idea, and all I can do is hope and beg that I’m not coming on too strong.
I’m halfway along the trail when I remember I’m not supposed to be charging ahead on a mission and slow my steps.
When Kennedy draws level with me, I reach over and take his hand, fingers slotting between his, and continue on.
After so many years of solitude, it’s new being with someone at all. Having a person to hang out with and spend time with is an adjustment, but one I want to be making. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to keep him here.
We’re walking for a few minutes before Kennedy talks. “You do know where we’re going, don’t you? Because I have no clue.”
It’s really not hard to find your way around Wilde’s End. He’ll get it one day.
We reach the almost vertical rock wall at the end of the trail, and I have to let go of his hand to scramble up it. Then I turn and take the basket from him while he follows.
From this lookout, we’re above the tree line, half-nestled in the hills, and Old End is too far away to see. I always feel untouchable up here.
“Wow …” Kennedy mutters, wiping his hands off on his pants as he joins me. “This is cool.”
It’s a usual, clear summer night, and the stars stretch from the hills on one side, all the way over to the tips of the blackened trees on the other.
I let him admire the view while I get to work setting up everything exactly the way Queenie instructed me to.
First, the rug, then I switch on all the battery-powered candles, lay out the baking Viv did for me, and hold my breath.
Kennedy’s staring at the setup like he’s as out of words as I usually am. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that speechless is not a good thing.
“You did this for me?”
I clear my throat and force out the answer. I promised myself that I was going to talk tonight. Anxiety or not, I need to know what this is and if I’m doing it right. I need him to know how unsettled an actual relationship makes me. “Yes. Is this good?”
“I …” He steps closer to the blanket, staring at it like it’s a puzzle. “I have organized too many picnics to count for people.”
That nonanswer doesn’t clear anything up for me.
Then his eyes find mine, sparking like little gems under the moonlight. “No one’s ever planned something for me before.”
“Never?”
His lips twist into what’s supposed to be a sly smile but just looks sad. “I guess I don’t really give people a chance.”
“Do you need to?”
“Well, if I’m always around, then … what are they supposed to do?”
“Plan it anyway.” The answer is that simple to me. “When you’re with someone who deserves it, you do it.”
“Yeah, but … I don’t think anyone’s ever thought I deserve it.”
I could kill the people he’s been with. “They were wrong.” We watch each other, and I’m almost sick with nerves. Sick that I’m going to say the wrong thing. End this moment before it can start.
But making sure he knows how special he is is worth fighting my anxiety.
I force my way through it. “Why haven’t you been smothering me?”
The question catches him off guard. “What?”
“You’ve been …” I don’t even know how to describe it without sounding like a loser. “Different.”
He doesn’t deny it. “Ah, I just, I’m trying to be cool. Not jump in too fast.”
“Why?”
“Ziggy …” He tries to pull back, but I grab his hands. If I’m doing something wrong, I need to know.
“Why, Kenny?”
“Because I’d hate it if you got sick of me.”
I stare at him, processing the words that sound ridiculous all together.
Get sick of him? Kennedy Bellamy? The guy who puts himself last and everyone else first?
Who doesn’t question all my weirdness and just jumps in and tries to match me at my level.
Who’s sweet and kind and happiest when he’s around others.
“Sick of you?” I echo, because I’m still trying to work out how he can mean that.
He gives me a halfhearted smile and tugs me over to sit down with him on the blanket. “You ask that, but it happens. Easily. I’ve told you how it always goes.”
“You don’t trust me?” The question is painful to ask.
“What? No. I don’t want to put you in the position where you wish I’d fuck off but don’t know how to tell me. And then it gets to be this huge issue I have no idea about until you lose it and say you can’t do it anymore.” His voice cracks. “I can’t go through that again.”
“And you won’t,” I promise him. “Those breakups weren’t your fault.”
He’s about to argue, and I frown at him to shut up a minute.
“You gave it everything. And they didn’t. If I annoy you, you’ll tell me. If you annoy me, I’ll tell you. I don’t want you holding back. So stop it. Because the more you do it, the more I feel like you’re getting sick of me.”
“I could never.”
“Then prove it,” I beg him. “Overwhelm me. Never leave me alone. Be clingy and needy and yourself. Then I get to tell you what I like and what I can handle.”
His lips part, and he searches my face. “You’re serious.”
Yes.
A long rush of air leaves him. “Want to know what I like?”
“What?”
“You getting bossy like that. Feel free to do it whenever you want to.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but Kennedy grabs me and pulls me closer to him. He folds my legs across his and runs his hand over my cheek.
“I also really like when you blush. And make me picnics.”
“I was so scared you’d hate it.”
He sighs and rests his forehead against mine. “I have a feeling we’re going to be two complete idiot boyfriends who mess up and overthink and have no idea what we’re doing.”
“It’ll be nice not being the only one.”