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)
“Yeah,” I say, downing my drink. “I got you.”
We spend the next couple of hours drinking and bullshitting. It’s been a while since we’ve done this, so it’s nice to spend some time with the guys, minus everyone else, even if it’s bittersweet as hell since Gage isn’t with us.
When it’s late, and their women start to text that they’re back from their girls’ day/evening, we call it a night. We all grab separate cars since we’re going in different directions. Instead of going home, I find myself at the studio. I text Easton to let him know I’m here so he’s not confused when he gets a notification from his security company that someone’s entered.
I assume the place is empty, and I’ll have it to myself, but when I step into the room we tend to favor, I find someone already there, sitting on the couch, scribbling away in a journal.
“What are you doing here?” I ask from the doorway.
“Oh, my God!” Kendall jumps, clutching her chest. “You scared me. I thought this place was empty.”
“It is… well, it was. I just got here, thinking the same thing.” I step into the room and notice she’s writing lyrics in her journal. “Shouldn’t you be home with your fiancé? You’re getting married in less than two days.”
It’s a dick question because I know she’s refused to move in with him until after they get married, and she’s mentioned on several occasions that she only spends the night on Saturdays because he works a lot.
“I’ve been with him since I got out of the hospital,” she says. “I just needed a moment to myself.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
I’m about to step out of the room when she says, “Or you can stay.” She shrugs. “There’s plenty of room in here for two.”
I want to stay so fucking badly, but I’m torn because as much as I want to spend time with her, doing so only hurts, knowing I’ll never have her. Knowing in less than two days, she’ll bear another man’s last name. She’ll be his wife, one day give birth to his children, and the only thing that will be left of us is the memory of the night we shared—a memory she doesn’t even have.
“Please,” she says softly. “I’m writing a new song. Maybe you can… take a look at it.”
Because I can’t say no to her, I nod and walk all the way in, sitting down next to her and taking the journal so I can read what she has so far.
The words are both beautiful and heartbreaking, a story of a woman who’s lost and begging to be found. She wants to love and be loved, but she doesn’t know how to go about it. It’s raw and gritty and so fucking Kendall. It reminds me of our conversation the night we spent together when she confided in me about her biological dad and how broken she feels. These aren’t lyrics of a woman happily in love, excited about getting married and starting her life with someone. She might not remember that night, but it’s clear in her words that she can still feel what she felt.
Maybe she just needs a little nudge to jog her memory.
“What do you think?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine.
“Are you sure you want to get married?”
Her eyes go wide, and I open my mouth to backtrack. That’s not how I wanted to word what I wanted to say… at all. But before I can think of what to say, she answers my question.
“I’m not sure.”
CHAPTER NINE
KENDALL
I’ve been hiding out, spending my days at the studio writing, doing what I do best: getting lost in my thoughts while shutting out the rest of the world. Today was my bachelorette party, so I had to leave my bubble. I wanted to enjoy going to dinner and dancing with my friends and sisters and Mom, but the entire time, I felt too much like a fraud.
Every time they spoke of their own weddings, of them finding love, gushing about how beautiful of a bride I’ll be, how perfect my day will be, how they’re so excited to be there and share what will be the best day of my life—their words, not mine—all I kept thinking was that I’m making a mistake. I don’t feel what they feel. I’m not excited. I’m scared and nervous and freaking the hell out.
I keep telling myself that it’s just pre-wedding jitters, and once I say I do, I’ll be okay. I’m overthinking things and overanalyzing. I was in an accident that injured my brain, for crying out loud. That’s bound to mess a person up, right?
But then why was it that the second Declan appeared in the doorway of the studio—like when he sat next to me while I listened to the song that I don’t remember recording with him—butterflies attacked my belly, and my heart pounded against my chest? Shouldn’t I be feeling that way toward my fiancé?