Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Please…”
After a long beat, she relents. “Okay, fine. You can come over and cook me something… as friends.”
Since she had Gale, her housekeeper, restock the fridge upon her arrival, there’s plenty of food for me to cook. While she showers and changes, I make a simple meal for the two of us I know she loves: breakfast for dinner.
I’m setting the plates of pancakes and bacon on the table as she walks into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a loose pajama shirt that reads: World of Chaos—a shirt from one of our previous tours that she stole from me a while back. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and her face is free of makeup. She looks beyond beautiful, and it takes everything in me not to sweep her off her feet and take her to her room where I can get lost in her all night long. Not that she’d let me anyway since she’s being all stubborn and shit and insisting we’re over.
“This all smells so good,” she moans, sitting at the table and grabbing a couple of pancakes. She snatches up a piece of bacon, breaks off a piece, and pops it into her mouth. The way she moans when the bacon enters her mouth has my dick twitching and begging me to reconsider taking her to the room.
Not wanting it to get awkward, I make light conversation about the numbers Easton sent us. The song has only been out for a day, and it is already topping the charts for being the most downloaded and streamed song in a twenty-four-hour period. The official video has over eighty million views.
“It wouldn’t be what it is without you,” she admits, forking a piece of pancake into her mouth. “Thank you for being a part of it.”
I hate how formal she’s speaking like we haven’t been intimate, and I haven’t stuck my dick into every one of her damn holes. But I bite the inside of my cheek and go along with it, hoping she’ll say something that indicates why she’s made this decision.
When we’re both done eating, she insists I leave the dishes, then walks me to the door. “I’m really glad we can still be friends,” she says softly, opening the front door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night for the interview with Larson?”
“Kendall…”
“Declan, don’t… please.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have it in me to argue with you.”
“Baby, I don’t want to argue. I want to know how to fix whatever happened so we can go back to being us again.” My eyes plead with her, but she doesn’t give me a damn inch.
“I already told you it can’t be fixed. I need you to leave, please.”
“Ken…” I start to beg, suddenly feeling anxious. At first, I had it in my head that she was just freaking out, and as soon as I got her to talk to me, I’d be able to set her straight, but now, as I look at her defeated face, it hits me… It’s really over. She isn’t running or hiding. She let me in to her home and ate dinner with me. But she doesn’t want to be anything more than friends.
For whatever reason, Kendall Blackwood no longer wants to be with me. The realization is damn near crippling, knowing the woman I want to spend my life with doesn’t see or want the same future as I do.
“It’s really over, isn’t it?” I ask, needing her to say the words one last time.
“It is,” she says softly. Her eyes flutter closed and then open, and a single tear slides down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Dec,” she says as more follow. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.” She shakes her head, and I pull her into my arms, needing to feel her against me. Her signature D&G perfume hits my senses, and it takes everything in me not to break down.
Fuck! I don’t know what to do. I’m at a loss. On the one hand, I want to lock her in the room and force her to talk to me, but that’s not how this should be. It’s not how a relationship should be. If she wanted me to know, she’d talk to me. Right? Deep down, I know she wouldn’t. Kendall is sweet and funny and has the biggest heart, but she’s also a little broken. There’s nothing wrong with that. I stand by what I told her all those years ago: It’s okay to be a little broken. But the problem is, whatever is broken inside her is preventing her from functioning, and I can’t do it on my own.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her, squeezing her a little tighter. “It was worth it… To have you in my arms, to be with you for that short time. It was worth the heartbreak.”