Risking It All (27 page)

“It’s not—”

“I know,
chére
, it’s not for sale,” he said, waving her off. “But maybe you could do a little more clay work. I think it would be a big seller.”

“Ryder, that was made when I was going through something very emotional,” she said.

“I know. That’s why it pulled so many people in—because of the love and pain that went into it. Buyers can tell, Kennedy, when something is real versus make-believe.” He sat back and shrugged. “All I’m asking is if you’ll try. If you can’t pull it off again, no big deal. There’s still a lot of interest in the paintings.”

Kennedy thought about what he said.

“I wouldn’t be able to duplicate the sculpture,” she said. “If I did any more clay it would be something completely different. You know that, right?”

“I assumed that, yes.” He smiled at her.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. Now, we should start thinking of when we should do another show.”

Two hours later Kennedy was gathering her purse and ready to head home when her cell chimed. She quickly scrambled to find it among the clutter in her handbag, cursing when the damn thing seemed to have disappeared.

Ryder chuckled as he watched her. “Must be pretty important.”

Kennedy grinned when she finally found it, but the message that waited for her made the grin leave her face and a knot twist in her stomach.

“Bad news?” Ryder asked, leaning over to look at the small screen. “Brooks was away again?”

Kennedy nodded and clicked off the message.

“Was,” she said. He was back and wanted to come over.

 “Why don’t you sound happy that he’s home?” He sounded more concerned than curious.

Kennedy sighed and stuffed the phone back in her purse.

“We just have a lot to talk about, and I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“Oh, I see. I sense the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech coming.”

“No. It’s totally him.”

Ryder laughed, and Kennedy felt the knot untwist a little bit. She stood, tossed her purse over her shoulder, and gave him a small smile as she walked out of the office.

The sun shone into her eyes as she stepped outside, and she reached up and lowered the sunglasses from the top of her head. She took a deep breath of fresh air and started walking to her car.

As she settled in behind the wheel she took out her cell again and reread the message.

I’m back. Give me a call if you’re home. We need to talk.

The childish thought of ignoring the message and pretending she wasn’t home yet crossed her mind, but the adult in her knew she had to face him sooner or later. And getting this all out of the way before Memphis returned was best.

Instead of calling, she sent off a quick text telling him she was home and he could stop by later that night if he wanted. She half hoped that he would tell her he was too busy, but when his reply came, it said he’d be there by eight.

Kennedy tossed the phone onto the front seat as she glanced at the dashboard clock. She had six hours to find her courage and decide what she was going to tell him.

 Despite having hours to think it over, she still wasn’t sure what to say or how to go about doing what she had to do when her intercom buzzed at ten to eight.

Kennedy’s hands trembled as she buzzed him in and unlocked her door. She waited with her back pressed against it, and nearly jumped out of her skin when he knocked.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt like she was about to break out in a sweat.

Would he instantly know something was different? Would be able to smell the guilt rolling off her the second she opened the door?

Hard to smell like guilt when you don’t feel guilty.

Kennedy didn’t want to admit the voice in her head was right. Hell, she didn’t want to admit she was hearing voices, period. But it was there, imaginary or not, and it
was
right. She still didn’t feel guilty over what happened between her and Memphis. She didn’t want to hurt Brooks, but she couldn’t regret or feel guilty about her actions. Doing so would mean she wished she had never been with Memphis. And she would never feel that way.

Vanessa was right when she said it wasn’t fair to any of them. It wasn’t fair to her to be with a man who was never there for her. And it wasn’t fair to Brooks to be with a woman who was no longer in love with him. They both deserved to be happy, and being together no longer made them happy.

Or at least it no longer made her happy. She wasn’t sure how Brooks felt anymore. Another knock on the door reminded her she was about to find out.

Kennedy took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to face him. What she wasn’t ready for was what waited on the other side.

Brooks stood there, a bouquet of red roses in one hand, her favorite bottle of wine in the other, and a tentative smile on his face.

Kennedy looked at the flowers and wine dumbfounded. The last—and only—time Brooks had bought her flowers was the day after they met in the hospital. On Valentine’s Day, her birthday, or their anniversary he gave her gifts of fancy dinners, lacy lingerie, or tickets to some show or ballet she wanted to see—when he remembered those days, that is. He felt flowers and chocolates were for wooing, and since he already had the girl, there was no reason to woo.

She knew him well enough to know the flowers meant only one thing. He was trying to once again sweep her off her feet.

And that she hadn’t been prepared for.

He lifted his arms in a slight shrug when he saw her attention on the gifts.

“I figure if Memphis can take you to Alaska, the least I can do is pick up some flowers,” he said with a hint of laugher in his voice. “And also, it’s about time I did something like this for you.”

Kennedy tore her eyes away from his arms and met his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, his smile broadening.

“Hi,” she managed to say.

“Wow. Give you a dozen roses and you go into shock.” He brushed past her, not waiting for an invitation to come in, and set the items down on the table.

Kennedy closed the door, still unsure of what to say. She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned against the wall, facing him.

“How was your trip?” he asked, dropping the flowers into the empty vase she always left in the middle of the table.

Her pulse quickened, and she ducked her head so her hair hid part of her face as she pretended to look at her feet.

“It was good,” she answered.

“Just good?”

“We had fun.”

At least that wasn’t a lie.

He turned, and she felt his eyes on her. She quickly scooted into the kitchen and busied herself grabbing two wineglasses.

“How was Montreal?” she asked.

“A few surprises, but all in all it was good as well.” He put the bottle gently on the counter and stood beside her. “I did a lot of thinking while I was away, Kennedy,” he told her, reaching out to touch her hair.

She set the corkscrew down beside the bottle and moved away to the opposite side of the kitchen. Brooks looked at her, confused for a minute, but then picked it up and started opening the bottle. When he handed her a glass, she gripped the stem so hard she was surprised it didn’t snap, and had to refrain from guzzling it all at once.

“Are you okay, babe?” He eyed her intently.

She inhaled deeply and shook her head.

“Brooks, I did a lot of thinking, too.” She stared into the red liquid. “I think—”

“Wait.”

She looked up at him, and he sighed as he ran his hands through his short hair and gave her a defeated smile.

“I know what you’re going to say, Kennedy,” he told her. “And I just want to say something first.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded.

“I know I haven’t been there for you when you needed me. I pretty much checked out of this relationship after you lost the baby. And that was wrong.”

Kennedy stared at him, shocked he had brought up the miscarriage. He had never said anything about the baby—ever.

“I felt like I was alone to deal with the miscarriage of our child,” she said when she finally found her voice. “All this time you never wanted to talk about it.”

“I still don’t,” he said. “But I realize now that’s where everything started to go a little off. I wasn’t ready for a child, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to be a father, so when you miscarried, I felt very guilty because I was . . . relieved.”

Kennedy snapped her eyes up to his and her jaw dropped.

“You . . . you were
glad
I lost the baby?” She was stunned.

“I was relieved,” he said, looking ashamed. “Kennedy, I’m sorry.”

“How could you feel that way? That’s so hateful,” she said, her voice quivering and tears stinging her eyes as she fled the kitchen.

“Kennedy.” He followed her to the living room and sat beside her on the couch, reaching for her hand.

“Don’t touch me.” She snatched it away from him.

“I didn’t want anything to happen to the baby, and if you had carried to full term, I would have tried to be the best father I could be. But I wasn’t ready, Kennedy,” he tried to explain. “We had only been seeing each other a few months, neither one of us really knew how we felt about each other yet, and then all of a sudden there’s a baby in the mix.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because I didn’t know how to,” he said. “You were so upset and withdrawn, and I just found it easier to act like it never happened.” He looked down at his lap. “Honestly, I was scared that you were going to ask me to actually try this time and conceive another one. I think that’s why I threw myself into work so much.”

Kennedy stared at him as what he said sank in. 

“So for the last year and a half you’ve been avoiding me so you wouldn’t have to have the uncomfortable baby talk?” 

“I never avoided you.” He looked up and inched closer to her. “I know it probably seemed like that, but that wasn’t my intention.”

“Brooks, you said it yourself. You haven’t been there for me. Every single thing that you ask of me I’ve done, and when it comes to me, you just don’t care. I’m tired of it.”

“I do care, though! Kennedy, I don’t blame you for being upset and angry with me and wanting to end things. But that’s the last thing that I want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like shit and made you believe that you’re not important to me. I’m sorry that I’ve been paranoid about you and Memphis. You’ve never given me any reason to doubt you, and I trust you.”

Guilt finally washed over her at those words, and she had to look away in shame from his trusting eyes.

“Kennedy, let me prove to you that I can be the man you need me to be. Let me prove that I can be there for you,” he pleaded. “The whole time I was away, all I wanted was to be with you. I see that I’m pushing you away, and I can’t lose you.”

“You never called,” she reminded him.

“I know. I wanted to wait until I was home so I could see you face to face. I was worried you’d end it with a text.” He reached for her hand again, and this time she let him take it. “I need you, Kennedy. I just realized now how much.”

“I think it’s too late,” she whispered.

“Just let me try,” he begged. “Let me try, and if I fail you again, then I’ll let you go. No begging, no pleading, no more promises, I’ll just let you go. But at least let me try and be the man you fell in love with.”

“Brooks . . .”

Kennedy felt like her heart was being torn in two. She had been set to say good-bye to him, to walk out of his life and start fresh, hopefully with Memphis. That’s what she wanted.

But did she owe it to Brooks to at least do as he was asking, and try and see if their relationship was salvageable? The memory of the morning she realized she had fallen in love with him returned. Could he be that man again? He had been so sweet, so considerate and attentive during that time. Was it possible he could find that man who disappeared and make her love him all over again?

Did she owe that man—not the man he was now—a second chance?

“You don’t have a tree!” he suddenly declared.

“What?” Kennedy looked up at him.

“Christmas is only four weeks away, and you don’t have a tree.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at the bare corner where her tree usually stood already decorated so close to the holiday.

“I guess I forgot about Christmas.” 

“Let’s go get one tomorrow. I’ll stop by around noon, pick you up, we’ll find one, and spend the rest of the day decorating it,” he said.

“Brooks, picking out a Christmas tree together won’t solve our problems.”

“No, but it’s a start, right? Come on. Please?”

“Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“I have to check in in the morning, but I’m not on call until the next day. Spend the day with me, please?”

Kennedy looked at him, hope and excitement brightening his eyes, and she couldn’t say no. She nodded, and he quickly leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll pick you up at noon, then?”

She nodded again, and watched as he stood and grabbed his jacket from the kitchen chair.

“I won’t ask to stay,” he said, slipping his arms into the coat sleeves. “Although, I wish you’d invite me to.” He paused and she stayed quiet, so he took the hint and opened the door. “Thank you.”

The sound of the door clicking into place as he left thundered through the apartment. Her chest suddenly felt like something was weighing down it. The pressure built and built until it felt like she was being suffocated from the weight and could barely breathe. Kennedy drew her legs up to her chest and curled into a ball.

This was the guilt she had been waiting to feel all along. Only it wasn’t Brooks she felt like she had just betrayed.

It was Memphis.

Chapter 15

“What about this one?” Brooks asked, stopping in front of a lush pine.

    Kennedy looked the tree up and down and shrugged.

“It’s fine. Might be a little too big for my apartment, though.”

“You know you’ve had a reason to hate every tree we’ve looked at today, right?”