Stripped Raw (33 page)
Authors: Prescott Lane
Kenzie pulls back slightly and looks up into my eyes. “Thank you for loving me and my shit.” She’s crying and smiling at the same time. She’s looked beautiful before but never has she been more beautiful than she is right now—stripped raw.
ONE YEAR LATER
KANE
As usual, Kenzie
is still asleep. Leave it to her to actually sleep through her own interview. It’s pre-recorded, but still. I had to laugh when the network insisted that Kenzie’s follow-up interview with Deacon be pre-recorded after what happened last time. Even James couldn’t convince them that his daughter-in-law would behave this time around.
I’d hoped the whole family could watch the interview together, but Kenzie nixed that idea. And she’s been so tired lately that was probably a good call. Her business has grown so much the past year; she’s had offers from all the major lingerie companies to buy it, but she refuses. And since there is only one Kenzie, expansion doesn’t seem possible, either. If we didn’t work in the same building, I don’t know if I’d ever see her. She keeps promising me she’ll slow down.
I flick on the television to wait for her segment to air when the phone rings. Fuck, I hope that didn’t wake her. “Where the hell is Pookie?” Brandon cries.
Pookie is the name of the bear I bought Zoe at the zoo the day Tessa died. Zoe doesn’t go anywhere without her. The poor bear has had two emergency surgeries, and no matter how many times we wash it, the damn thing is never clean. I even went back to the zoo and bought one exactly like it, but Zoe wouldn’t touch it.
The panic in Brandon’s voice is evident. Zoe must be on the verge of a nuclear tantrum. “Did you check her bag?”
I hear Brandon scrambling in the background. “Here, Zoe, talk to Uncle Kane.”
“Ka Ka,” she whimpers. My girl sounds so sad. I know she’s got huge crocodile tears on her cheeks. And I love her little nickname for me. Actually, it’s her name for both Kenzie and me. Guess she sees us as a package deal.
“Don’t cry,” I say. “I love you.”
“Wuv,” she sniffles into the phone. “Pookie!” she screams so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear, which is fine because I know she’s dropped it to the floor when I hear the line go dead. Guess Brandon found it. Crisis averted!
Brandon’s got his hands full with that little girl, which is why Kenzie and I help out as much as possible. Kenzie and I stayed at Tessa’s house for a good six weeks or so after we found Tessa’s letter. Brandon moved in there, and the three of us helped ease the transition. And when everyone was ready, Kenzie and I bought our own place.
And I love this house. It’s close to our work, and it’s the total opposite of my old place. I love that Kenzie can call my name from any room in the house, and I can hear her. There’s plenty of room in the backyard for Zoe, a nice pool, and more space than we need without feeling so stuffy and overdone.
I turn up the volume on the television as the interview begins. They just filmed it yesterday, but I couldn’t go with Kenzie, so it’s my first chance to watch it. The first shot is from far away, and I see that she’s wearing the Tiffany Blue heels. I haven’t seen her wear those since we got married six months ago. Wonder what made her wear them?
Our wedding was so small we could’ve had it in Kenzie’s old shop. It was just family—Michael, Sawyer, James, my mom, Deacon—whom I didn’t allow to bring a date—and Brandon and Zoe. We got married in mom and James’ backyard. I didn’t want to do the whole big wedding thing again but was worried Kenzie might. But she didn’t care about any of that, either. Kenzie wore a simple white dress, her hair down, and those shoes. The best part was when Kenzie laughed out her “I do.” It was absolutely fucking perfect. Her laugh was the beginning of our life together, so it seemed appropriate she should marry me laughing.
“Kane!”
Told you, I can hear her from anywhere in the house. But it’s early for her to be up. I push open the door to our bedroom, finding her still curled up with the covers all the way to her ears. “I was just watching the interview.”
She sticks her hand out from under the blankets. “Who called?”
“Brandon. He couldn’t find Pookie.”
Kenzie rolls her big brown eyes. She tries really hard to hate Brandon, but we all know she doesn’t. It was a rough road for the two of them, but Brandon is trying hard to make up for what he did. When we moved out, he suggested that Kenzie take Zoe on Sundays, to keep the tradition she shared with Tessa going. Kind of hard to hate a dude who does something like that.
“Did he find it?”
Leaning down to her lips, I say, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Morning sex and Kenzie do not mix well, so I’ve got to take advantage of rare moments like this. She smiles, turns her head, and reaches for her nightstand. I pin her arm down. “I thought we agreed you don’t need anything you might be hiding in that drawer.”
She gives me a naughty look. “Yeah, but there might be something for you in there.”
Intrigued, I open the drawer, hoping it’s another one of her dirty little creations like those handcuffs. Those were fun! But I’m not even close. The drawer is empty except for the little pair of baby booties I gave her during our breakup. “I thought I’d give these back to you. We’ll be needing them,” she says, smiling.
The first emotion that shoots through me is fear. I wish it wasn’t. But mostly, I wish Kenzie hadn’t seen it in my eyes. “The doctor says everything is perfect.”
My heart should start beating again any second. “This is why you’ve been so tired.”
She nods. “I’m only eight weeks. I debated waiting to tell you until I was through the first trimester, so you wouldn’t worry as much, but. . . .”
What the fuck? She thought about not telling me! Right then, I realize what a complete and total ass I’m being. The fact that I’m scared shitless is no excuse. I’m not going to let my fear steal this moment. Besides, I know she’s got to be scared, too. “Say the words, Kenzie. I need to hear you say the words.”
She scoots up higher in the bed and places my hands on her belly. “I’m pregnant.”
It only takes those two little words to rip my heart wide open. This time I smile and lower my head to her belly. Her fingers run through my hair. “What made you decide to tell me?” I ask.
Her nose crinkles up. “I saw the doctor yesterday. Don’t worry, the babies are perfect.”
“I wish you would’ve told me because I would’ve. . . Wait!
Babies
?”
She pulls me close, her face wet. It’s the first time I’ve seen her cry happy tears. “Twins!”
Our laughter and tears mingle together—just like our joy and fear. And the next emotion hits me harder than the first.
Love.
This book is
as much a love story between Kane and Kenzie as it is between two sisters—whose love and devotion to each other overcome distance, time, boyfriends, breakups, sickness, and even death. To celebrate their immense love, I’ve got to acknowledge my own sister. Five years younger, I was a royal pain in her butt for most of our childhood: there was fighting, name calling, and a close call with the fire department, but there was also hair brushing, driving lessons, and style tips. So, in case I haven’t told her enough, I’m putting it in writing. I love you, Big Sis! Of course, I can’t forget to thank my husband for seeing the “raw” parts of me and loving me anyway. To my precious kids, thank you for understanding the times I say I need a few minutes to jot something down so I don’t forget. I love you with all my heart.
Now to my book sisters: we may not be blood, but we are bound by the love of words (and hot sexy heroes). Thank you to my beta readers, Kathy, Dani Lee, Tania Marinaro, Robin Bateman, and Rachel Lockwood, for your honesty, patience, and love of this story. And a special thanks to Libros Evolution for the wonderful teasers and to Becca Manuel with Bibliophile Productions for the beautiful trailer, both of which help bring the story to life. Buckets of gratitude to Neda Amini at Ardent Prose, my beautiful friend, who makes my crazy seem normal, which is quite a feat. And to my editor, Nikki Rushbrook, who is actually more my book momma, correcting and encouraging and believing in my stories, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Most importantly, my readers—typing those two little words brings tears to my eyes. People read my books! It’s still the most surreal experience to get messages from South Africa, England, the Philippines, New Zealand; it boggles my mind. And I can’t thank you enough.
Love and Happily Ever Afters,
Prescott Lane
P
RESCOTT
L
ANE is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College in 1997 with a degree in sociology. She went on to Tulane University to receive her MSW in 1998, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She currently lives in New Orleans with her husband, two children, and two dogs. She is also the author of
First Position
,
Perfectly Broken
, and
Quiet Angel
, and
Wrapped in Lace
.
Contact her at any of the following: