Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“At work, maybe. It’s Saturday night. Give yourself a break.”
Kate took a sip of her white wine. “I suppose. Plus, I guess I’m off the hook from remembering your details even at work. You’re Christian’s problem now.”
He lifted his red wine in a silent toast, then put it down when he saw the expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath as though gathering courage, then leaned forward slightly, meeting his eyes. “Why did you do it? Why did you volunteer to take on Christian?”
Kennedy kept his tone carefully impassive, knowing she wasn’t ready for the real answer to that question. “Someone had to.”
She blinked quickly, then gave a jerky nod before turning her attention back to her food. She cut off a piece of scallop with more force than necessary, then dropped her fork once more. “Did I not do a good job for you?”
Shit. This was harder than he’d anticipated—giving her the space she needed to heal without letting her think he didn’t care. At the hurt on her face, he nearly cracked. Nearly told her just how much it had killed him to actually volunteer to spend less time with her at work, all because he hoped against hope that it would lead to them spending more time together—outside of work.
But he wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t get up and run from that, so he explained as best he could without laying all of his cards on the table. “Kate.” He waited until she looked up. “You were the best damn assistant anyone could have ever asked for. I wouldn’t have even considered volunteering if I didn’t know Christian would be learning everything from you. But I also knew this was what you wanted—to work for two people instead of three.”
“So you were just being nice?”
He suppressed a growl of frustration. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not. Not after . . . Kennedy, I never thanked you,” she said on a rush. “I’m a little embarrassed, actually. That day when Dad—” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened her eyes to meet his again. “You were there. You went above and beyond, and I appreciate it more than I knew how to say, apparently.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Just like that? You’re not going to give me crap for ignoring you or for not acknowledging it sooner? I treated you horribly, and—”
“You didn’t. I didn’t do it for me, Kate; I did it for you. I wasn’t after thanks or a blue ribbon. I just tried to be what you needed at that time. That’s all it was.”
“It didn’t bother you when I didn’t reply to any of your messages?” she asked tentatively.
“It did,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, trying not to betray how much it had bothered him. “I was worried about you. So were the other guys. Lara and Sabrina, too. We’re used to seeing you every day. And we care about you. So yeah, it was hell not knowing what you were going through, not knowing how we could help.”
She glanced down, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We understood. But I’d love to know why.”
“Why did I go silent?”
He nodded. “The first couple days, I can understand. But it was nearly three weeks.”
It hurt.
“It wasn’t well done. I know that. I guess . . .” Kate fiddled with her napkin. “I think I was embarrassed that I wasn’t handling it better. I’m not used to being the weak link, the one who can’t sleep at night and yet doesn’t want to do anything all day but sleep. I told myself that I was hanging out in Jersey for my mom’s sake, but she basically kicked me out. Did I tell you that?”
When she looked up, he shook his head.
“Yeah,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, she did it gently, mama bird–style, and I’m glad she did. But it was embarrassing as heck to realize that far from being the one who takes care of anything, you’re the one people are worrying about.”
“Should we be worried about you now?” he asked quietly. He already was, but he also knew Kate was stronger than any person he’d ever met. For now, he just needed to make sure she didn’t shut him out.
“I’m okay,” she said slowly. She picked up her wineglass but instead of drinking, she stared down at it. “I miss him. A lot. I just want the ache to stop. The pain of realizing I’ll never see him again.”
He hurt for her, but Kennedy didn’t offer any platitudes. He didn’t tell her it would get easier or that the pain would lessen over time. She already knew that. She didn’t need words.
She needed a distraction from her pain. And he was determined to be the one doing the distracting.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Kennedy asked.