“Reagan, I love you more than life, but I can’t keep this from him.”
“I’m not asking you to keep it from him forever, just two more days, please,” Reagan begged.
Kensie could see the internal struggle raging behind Liam’s eyes. He had a choice to make, his brother or his new family. “Liam,” she began, “Reagan’s right, two days and then I’ll tell him myself. I owe him that much.”
“No, you don’t,” Carter grunted.
“Baby, I know how you feel and I get it. If he did to me what he did to you—”
“Wait,” Reagan interrupted, “you told her? I’ve begged you for years to explain it to me and you told her?”
“I tell her everything.”
“Look, this isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation.”
“Liam’s right,” Kensie said, “we should get back.”
“You two go on,” Reagan frowned, tilting her head towards the bar, “I need to talk to my brother.”
Carter rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement as Kensie and Liam headed back into the main room.
“I’m sorry,” Kensie said as they made their way back.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Kensie. You destroyed him and you’re off running around behind his back with CT. How’s that fair?”
“We weren’t right for each other, Liam. CT or not, it wouldn’t have worked.”
“I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” he said, eyeing her with disdain. She didn’t deserve his empathy, but she wasn’t expecting this level of hate. Not from him, not from Trey’s shy little brother.
As soon as they reached the main room, Liam made a beeline for the bar. Kensie searched the crowd for a friendly face, Quinn or Grant or Javi, anyone who wouldn’t make her feel like a monumental fuck-up.
She spotted Quinn and Javi making out in the corner. Grant was at the bar, ordering drinks. He was flanked by Emerson and Liam. She sighed, wishing that Jam and Ry were there. They’d know what to do.
Resigning herself to her fate, she went and sat at an empty table off to the left of the dance floor. She didn’t have enough energy to pretend to be social, and the tequila was starting to make her head spin.
She’d been sitting there, her head propped up against the wall for about ten minutes, when Trey walked over, setting a bottle of water in front of her. “I know you’re pissed at me, but it looked like you could use this.”
She regarded him for a moment before picking up the bottle and taking a drink. She hated to admit it, but the cold liquid was just what she needed. “Thank you.”
“Can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He was impossibly handsome, but there was grief in his brown eyes, grief that she’d undoubtedly put there.
She looked around the bar. Javi’s tongue was planted firmly down cousin Quinn’s throat, Grant was doing shots with Liam and the groomsmen, and Carter hadn’t reemerged from the back with his sister. “Ten minutes,” she said, pushing a chair out with the bottom of her heel.
“I miss you,” he began.
“Trey, if that’s what this is about, you can save it.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why, suddenly, did you shut me out? I thought we were in love.”
“We wanted different things. It wasn’t fair for me to hold on to you when I knew in my heart it wasn’t going to work.”
“You didn’t even try. Why wouldn’t you try?”
“I…tried… I did, but then…” She struggled for the words. There wasn’t a nice or polite or kind way to say it so she just did. “There’s someone else.”
“What?” His voice cracked, as a series of one-word questions spilled from his lips. “When? Who? Why?”
“I met him while you were in Vegas,” she confessed.
“While we were still together?
“Yes,” she nodded, “I’m so sorry.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t…you don’t know him,” she lied, figuring the truth would come out soon enough.
“You’re willing to throw this past year away for someone you’ve known for a few fucking months.”
“It’s not…”
“I don’t care,” he growled cutting her off. “I love you. I’m willing to try again,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. “I saw this a while ago and I knew it belonged on your finger.” He sat a small red box on the table. “I was planning to do this in November, for your birthday.”
“Trey,” Kensie breathed. She used to dream about this moment, with this man. How would he do it? Would her family be there? Would he get down on one knee? What would the ring look like? Never once in any of her fantasies were they in a dark corner of a club, alcohol clouding both of their judgment, and certainly not after she’d just confessed to cheating on him.
“I don’t expect you to answer right now. I know this isn’t the grand gesture that you deserve, but I need you to understand that I’m not giving up on us. I’m willing to fight for you. My heart’s on the table. It’s yours if you want it.” He stood, bending down to plant a kiss on the top of her head, before retreating to the bar.
Her eyes stayed glued to the box in front of her. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the table only to find Carter standing there. The look on his face, the utter devastation in his eyes, as he glanced down at the red Cartier ring box sitting in front of the girl he loved, nearly destroyed her.
Light seeped out from under the bathroom door, the soft yellow glow the only sign of life in the otherwise dark room. The shades were drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows canceling out the romantic view. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 8:37 a.m. Kensie sighed and rolled to her back, the haze of last night’s party lingering on. The unruffled pillow on his side of the bed taunted her.
Where he went was a mystery, one that niggled at her subconscious. After everything they’d been through, he still couldn’t talk to her. That hurt more than his absence. She tried convincing herself where he was didn’t matter. He was back—hiding out in the bathroom—but back. The door creaked open and Carter’s shadow glided across the room. The bed dipped and strong tattooed arms encircled her small frame. His skin was damp, warm. A shower? Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.
“Where’d you go?” she choked.
“Out for a run.”
“Kind of early for a run, isn’t it?” They got back to the hotel around three, she could barely move, let alone run.
“Every time I tried to close my eyes, I saw the look on your face when he put that fucking box on the table. I can’t get it out of my mind. I damn sure couldn’t sleep.”
Kensie turned to face him. Dark rings shaded the skin around his sad, blue eyes. He looked…tortured. “Baby, you have nothing to worry about. I told you last night, the ring doesn’t change anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Hmm,” he muttered. His chest rose and fell with each breath. His clean scent invaded her nostrils. His warmth was comforting. “Can I see it?” His voice was easy breezy, but his body told a different story. It was rigid, like he’d been preparing to take a hit. Maybe in a way he was. Carter was handsome, talented, and one of the most charismatic bastards Kensie had ever met. He exuded confidence in nearly every aspect of his life, but on the inside, he was just as insecure as she was.
Trey was his Achilles heel, the source of his resentment and abandonment issues. It had been ten years since Trey’s betrayal, and still, Carter felt like second best. In his eyes, he’d never measure up to Trey Knight. Carter was the fuck-up, the black sheep.
Kensie threw a leg over Carter’s waist, lifting to straddle him. Their foreheads touched. “See what?” she asked, nibbling on his bottom lip. He was hurting. She tasted the doubt on his lips.
“Do you like it?” His hands gripped her ass tightly, so tightly she was sure there would be little purple bruises in the shape of fingertips on
her behind.
“I love you,” she murmured, trailing kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other, his overgrown beard scratching at her soft skin.
“Do you like it?” he repeated, guiding her over the growing bulge in his pajama pants.
“I didn’t even open the box,” she confessed, grinding down on him. This was their love language. Carter needed actions, not words. He needed her to show him. He needed to feel her love.
The air in the room crackled. Kensie felt the tides turning. The earth shifted as she pulled her night shirt over her head. This time would be different. They’d spent the last few months fucking on almost every surface of Seattle. He claimed her wherever they went. Their attraction was raw—primal—but in their Napa hotel room with that damn Cartier box hidden away in the nightstand, they would share an experience foreign to their union—slow, passionate lovemaking.
“I don’t care what it looks like.” She tugged down his pants just low enough to free his erection. “It doesn’t change anything, I know who I belong to,” she said, reciting his words from the night before. They belonged to each other, neither Trey nor the harem could change it. Her parents couldn’t change it. The tour couldn’t change it. Pushing her panties to the side, she hovered over him, her brown eyes meeting his blue. “The only ring that I want on my finger is the one that you give me. Until then,” she lowered herself onto him, “this is all I need. You are all I ever need.”
The groan that ripped from his throat in that moment made Kensie’s heart constrict. It was both sad and hopeful, like he couldn’t believe her words, but maybe, just maybe, she’d choose him anyway. “He’s better for you than I’ll ever be. He’d never hurt you the way I did. Your parents love him. If I were a better man, I’d give you up, I’d let you be happy.”
“Then I’m glad you’re not a better man,” she said on his lips. “I don’t want a better man, I want you. That ring doesn’t change how I feel.” Her hips swirled. Her body rose and fell. She rode him slow, her pace languid, her intent clear, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“You seemed so…speechless. The look on your face…I just figured.”
“He caught me off guard. I’d just told him that there was someone else and he said he’d fight for me. I was expecting anger or disappointment, hurt—not a marriage proposal. I was in shock.” Her lips found his, their tongues dancing, as their bodies collided.
“Do you want him to fight for you?”
Her back straightened, her hands found her chest and she played with her nipples as she ground into him. “No, I want you to accept that I love you. I want you, forever, Friend.” Her words seemed to soothe him. For the moment, all seemed right in their little world, in their little bubble. They were two imperfect beings in an imperfect relationship, but somehow, for them, it worked.
“Forever,” he groaned. His eyes ran down the length of her body, zeroing in on the place where their bodies connected. Every time she moved, it revealed a little of his length, glistening with her arousal.
“I love you so fucking much,” she cried, enveloping his mouth in hers. She placed her forearms on either side of his head and lifted her hips and let them fall. Her muscles clenched around him, squeezing everything out of him. They were all hands and lips and hearts as they clung to each other, falling together.
“Can I see it?” he asked again, hours later as they lay in bed, sated, content. He wasn’t letting it go, and Kensie wasn’t going to argue. If he needed this, then she’d let him have it.
Reaching over to the nightstand, she pulled open the top drawer. “Here,” she said, handing it over without so much as a second glance.
He held what could have been her future in his hands, eyeing the thing like it might explode. His sucked in a sharp breath, bracing himself as he opened it. Inside was a three-carat, pear-shaped, solitaire diamond ring. It was beautiful. A month ago, you would have had to pry it off her finger, but now it was just another pretty thing.
He quickly shut the box and handed it back to her. “He’s an ostentatious bastard, isn’t he?” Kensie tucked the red leather box back into the drawer and snuggled up to her boyfriend. Carter brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her ring finger. “I thought about it.”
“About what?” she asked, resting her head on his chest.
“How I’d do it. How I’d ask you.” His voice was soft, quiet, as he continued to fiddle with her finger.
“How?” she breathed.
“Nice try,” he smirked. “Although, I wasn’t planning on doing the ring thing.”
“No ring?” She arched her brow.
“Nah, I was thinking of something a little more…permanent.”
“Such as?”
“Tattoos.”
“Of course,” she giggled. Her hand traveled down his chest, down, down, down.
“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the day inside of you, we should probably eat something before you go.”
“I’m not going,” she said, falling back on her pillow.
“I thought it was a part of your bridesmaid duties.”
“I’m barely a bridesmaid, and I’m pretty sure Reagan hates me, so it’s best I skip it.”
“You’re being dramatic. Reagan doesn’t hate you. She was pissed at me, but we talked. She understands.”
“You told her about Trey?” Kensie asked, resting her chin on his chest.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I told you why.”
“You don’t want to take them from him.”
Carter stayed quiet. He kissed her ring finger again, and then again.
“You’re a better man than he could ever hope to be. I just wish everyone knew the truth.”
“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’m happy. I have you. I win.”
“But—”
“All I want you to worry about is what you’re going to eat for breakfast.”
“Bacon,” Kensie huffed pulling herself out of bed. “I’m going to shower.” She had a spa day to get ready for, after all.
Kensie inhaled deeply, pulling open the heavy metal and glass door to the hotel spa. Lavender and vanilla scented the air of the large modern salon, making her feel instantly at ease. She had a love affair with lavender, one that began during her freshman year of college. It grew wild in the field behind her dorm, soft and feminine and whimsical. She’d sit with the window open on crisp spring days while the scent wafted in, wrapping her in its warmth.
It was home.
She smiled, walking up to the sleek steel receptionist desk. Carter was right, this was exactly what she needed. “Hi, I’m Kensie. I’m with the Thayer/Knight wedding party,” she said, extending her hand to the lady standing behind the desk, dressed in all black. The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun and her red lips spread into a wide grin as she gave Kensie her hand.
“Brittany,” she greeted before dropping her eyes to the computer screen in front of her. “Looks like everyone else has gone back. I can show you if you’d like?”
Kensie nodded eagerly and followed Brittany through the reception area, back to a large dressing room. A row of mahogany lockers lined the wall, and a large, plush bench sat in front.
“So, you’re dating Ry?” Quinn’s voice drifted over the lockers.
“I kinda married him.” Kensie heard the smile in Jam’s voice and made her way around to her friends. “There you are,” she said. “I didn’t think CT would let you out of his sight after last night.”
“I’m lost,” Quinn said, looking from Kensie to Jamie and back again.
“She’s boning your cousin, babe,” Jamie said dryly.
“JAM!” Kensie groaned. This was quickly becoming the worst-kept secret in the history of secrets.
“I knew it! I mean, I didn’t know, know—but I knew—ya know? The way he went all alpha on that guy who was dancing with you. It was way more than the protective older brother bullshit he likes to pull with me and Rea. He was so caught u
p with you he didn’t even get pissed about me and Javi. Last time, they didn’t speak for a week.”
“Wait, you fucked Javi?”
“Yes…no…this isn’t about me. This is about you and Cart. Does Trey know?”
“Trey proposed,” Jamie blurted out.
“Jam?! Keep your voice down,” Kensie squealed, glancing over her shoulder. “It wasn’t a proposal, he just kind of set the ring on the table and said it’s mine if I want it. I panicked. I was drunk, and Carter was pissed, so I just grabbed it before anyone else saw. Now I have this fucking ring, Carter is still pissed, and I’m so beyond screwed.”
“So, are you two like a legit couple?”
Kensie nodded and pulled her shirt over her head. Her pants went next, then her bra, and Jamie tossed her a towel.
“And Trey has no clue?”
“I told him I was seeing someone else—”
“But not who?”
“No.”
Quinn’s eyes widened, and she looked to Jam for confirmation. “Holy. Shit!”
“I know,” Kensie groaned, banging her head on her locker. The shit had ascended from hell, passed through purgatory, and settled in heaven.
“You’re fucked.”
“I know.” Sideways, diagonally, and crisscrossed fucked.
“They’re going to kill each other.”
“I know.” It was bad, and it would only get worse as long as she held on to that ring.
The door opened again. Kensie, Jamie, and Quinn turned their heads as Annabelle Knight strode into the locker room. Her brown eyes were expectant as she looked to Kensie’s left hand. “It seems as if we’ve got another wedding to plan,” Annabelle said, settling in next to Kensie. “Would you girls mind giving us a minute alone?”
Jam and Quinn exchanged a glance, then pushed their way into the massage room, leaving Kensie alone with her ex-future mother-in-law. Annabelle Knight was the definition of Stepford wife. Not only was she tall and blonde and gorgeous, she was smart and calculating. She had a degree from Yale that she never used. Her background in corporate law made her wholly over-qualified to be a housewife, but her husband, Thomas, was more interested in her looks than her mind.
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