Risking It All (32 page)

The pattern continued for the next couple of days until finally he responded to one of her texts and told her he was going back to Alaska to finish up the project there and would be gone until Christmas.

Her heart sank as she read the words, and she knew it wasn’t just work that was taking him away. He needed his space, and apparently out of the country in the cold tundra of Alaska was as far away as he could get.

The weeks passed with the occasional text and phone call, but they were short and clipped and almost uncomfortable. She couldn’t take back her confession, and because he knew what was really on her mind, she feared it was driving him away.

Kennedy also knew it didn’t help matters that she still hadn’t officially broken things off with Brooks. She knew she needed to find the courage to do it, but every time she tried, she kept thinking of him and that damn umbrella, and the affection and love she felt for him then made her feel guilty for not trying harder and just throwing their years together away. It also didn’t help that the more she saw of him, the more he reminded her of when they first started dating. She knew she wasn’t
in
love with him anymore, but deep down she still loved him. Or at least she loved the man he was once again trying to be.  

He still came around, and they went out every once in a while when his schedule allowed it. Memphis never asked anymore if they were still seeing each other, and she never volunteered the information.

It also didn’t help that Brooks thought things were great with them and was even talking about taking a trip together the following year. She knew it was a horrible thing to lead him on, but she convinced herself that it would be cruel to dump him right before Christmas and would be better to wait until after the holidays.

It was a poor, pathetic excuse, if she were being honest with herself. It didn’t matter when she did it; it was still going to hurt him. But it just seemed more kind to wait until after. Why ruin his holiday?

Memphis texted her on Christmas Eve and let her know he would be home later that night. He asked if they could get together some time the next day if she wasn’t busy. She planned to spend the night with Brooks, but Christmas was still up in the air. He had to be on call, so making plans that might not happen was pointless. She told Memphis she could be at his place any time he wanted.

That night as she wrapped the last gift and set it under the tree to take to Vanessa later, Brooks knocked on her door. They had decided to stay in—Kennedy would cook their meal for a change, something she hadn’t done for the two of them in a while. All things considered, she wasn’t in the mood to continue their tradition of Chinese food.

“Merry Christmas,” he said when she opened the door. He quickly brushed his lips against her cheek—that was as far as she had allowed the intimacy to go—and swooped in with shopping bags full of groceries. “I think I got everything you said you needed.”

“Great.”

She followed him into the kitchen and noticed two dessert boxes on the counter. She went to take a peek when Brooks grabbed her hands and pulled her away.

“That’s a surprise,” he said. “No peeking.”

Kennedy eyed the boxes suspiciously.

“You know how I feel about surprises, Brooks. And what am I supposed to be surprised over? I know it’s a cake. Chocolate or vanilla? Buttercream or cream-cheese frosting?” She giggled. “Is that the surprise?”

“Never mind,” he said, directing her away from the boxes.

She helped him unpack the bags and then set to work getting everything ready. She started chopping peppers while Brooks tore up lettuce for a salad.

“Did you make plans for tomorrow yet?”

“Um, yeah. Memphis is back, so I’m going to go over there some time. And I might swing by Vanessa’s—if they’re going to be around—to drop off their gifts,” she added, not actually having any plans to do so until that second, but it sounded better that she was going to be in a couple of different places rather than just with Memphis.

“I haven’t seen the baby yet. Maybe I can come with you.”

Kennedy tossed the peppers into the skillet, cursing under her breath for lying and trapping herself in a corner. But when had Brooks ever wanted to go to Vanessa and Joe’s with her? She couldn’t remember a single time he had asked.

“Sure. You know, if they’re home.”

“Unless you don’t want me to tag along.” He could sense her hesitation.

Kennedy looked over her shoulder at him, and asked, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You don’t seem too excited about the idea.”

“What do you want me to do? Jump up and down and throw a parade?” she asked, and turned back to the stove.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been spending a lot of time with Memphis anymore.” Kennedy balked and stopped stirring the sauce. “Did something happen? Did you two have a fight?”

“Not exactly,” she said, turning the temperature down on the burner.

“Well, something must have happened to cause a rift between the two of you. You guys are connected at the hip.”

If only he had any idea how
connected
they had been.

“He’s been busy with the Alaska thing and I’ve been . . . trying to work on some new pieces. We’re just busy.”

“Too busy to talk to each other?”

“Why do you suddenly care if I’m not talking to Memphis?” she asked, turning to face him. “You don’t even like him, so I would think the less time I spent with him, the happier you would be.”

“Is that what you think?” Brooks stopped slicing onions and eyed her over the counter. “Yes, it’s no secret I’m not a big Memphis fan, but he’s important to you, and you’re important to me, so I guess that means I have to deal with him.”

“And you’ve dealt with him so well up until now,” she said sarcastically as she reached for the wine he’d brought and poured a glass.

“I was just curious what was going on between the two of you. You don’t have to get snarky about it.”

Kennedy drained the glass and set it down with a little more force than she intended.

“Can we not talk about Memphis, please?”

Brooks looked at the wineglass, then up at her, and shrugged.

“Sure.”

They finished preparing their meal in mostly silence, only speaking when one needed something from the other. Brooks tried to engage her in conversation during the meal, asking about her work and what she was currently painting, when she planned to do another show, and if she was happy still having Ryder’s representation.

Kennedy frowned at that question and twirled her spaghetti around her fork.

“What kind of question is that?” she asked. “I love working with Ryder.”

“I just thought you might be interested in working with another gallery.” He paused. “Maybe somewhere outside of Vancouver.”

“Ryder has a lot of connections, Brooks.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to look into something on your own, would it?”

“I’m happy where I am in my career, Brooks.” It was the other parts of her life that were totally fucked up.

The question nagged at Kennedy for reasons she couldn’t explain, and she watched him closely as he ate. Something seemed off and she couldn’t say what it was, but in the pit of her stomach things didn’t feel right.

“While I was in Montreal, I couldn’t help but think of how much you’d enjoy the city. There’s so much old history, places you’d love to explore and find creatively inspiring.”

Kennedy nodded. “Ryder said Old Montreal is something to see. Exactly what you said: beautiful, inspiring, lively.”

“So you’d be interested in seeing it one day?” he questioned, casually.

Kennedy reached for her wineglass. “Sure. One day.”

She watched him over the rim of her glass as she sipped, and saw a smug, satisfied smile settle on his lips. 

The nagging feeling intensified, becoming increasingly harder to ignore. 

“Do I get to find out what that surprise is now?” she asked after dinner, hoping a change of subject would settle her nerves.

“Why don’t you go into the living room, and I’ll bring it to you.”

Kennedy furrowed her brow at his behavior but didn’t argue and went to wait in the living room. She impatiently flipped through a magazine, her anxiety growing by the minute.

She didn’t like surprises; she never had. Surprises could make things very complicated and messy. Rarely anything good came out of them, in her experience.

“Did you lose your way?” she called to him, and heard him chuckle.

“Close your eyes.”

Oh, this wasn’t good. The only thing worse than a surprise was one she had to close her eyes for.

“Brooks—”

“Just do it.”

Kennedy puffed her cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Are they closed?”

“Uh-huh.”

She heard him set something down and then take a seat beside her.

“Okay. Open your mouth.”

Kennedy laughed.

“Oh, I know this game. Sick, Brooks.”

“Smart ass. Open your mouth.”

“Why?”

“So I can put something in it.”

Kennedy snorted, and he sighed impatiently.

“Will you just open your mouth?”

She cringed and hesitantly did as he asked, opening her mouth an inch at a time as she cowered on the couch. The smell of sugar wafted to her nose, and she stopped trying to lean away from Brooks. He slid the fork into her mouth, and the taste of red velvet cake, cherries, and chocolate icing teased her taste buds.

If her eyes hadn’t already been closed, she would have closed them and moaned in appreciation of the god who created something that tasted so good.

“More.” She opened her mouth without hesitation this time.

Brooks laughed and fed her another piece.

“This is heaven.” She sighed in true sugar bliss.

She heard him set the plate down and was about to open her eyes and protest when he stopped her.

“One more thing,” he said, and set what felt like the smaller dessert box in her lap. “Open.”

Kennedy opened her eyes and looked down at her lap and almost choked on the cake.

There, nestled in the little pink box, was a small white cake with the words
With This Ring . . .
in the middle and a ring tied onto a bow at the top.

Kennedy tried to swallow but her throat wouldn’t allow it, and she had to force herself not to throw up. Her hands started to shake, her ears started to ring, and she was sure she was about to have an anxiety attack.

When he saw what was happening, Brooks quickly took the box away from her and set it aside, instructing her to put her head between her legs and breathe.

She took large gulps of air, but it still felt like she was suffocating. Why would he do this? What made him think it was a good time to pull a ring out? Didn’t he realize they were barely hanging on by a thread and that marriage should be the furthest thing from his mind?

Hundreds of questions swarmed Kennedy’s head, making her feel dizzy and nauseous all at the same time.

This was her fault. If she had ended it like she was going to weeks ago, then he wouldn’t be sitting there with a cheesy proposal cake making her want to puke. She had led him to believe she was still in this thing, when really she had checked out weeks ago and just didn’t know how to tell him.

Like this is going to be less awkward now.

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured your reaction,” Brooks said next to her.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed, unsure of what else to say.

“Kennedy?” He slowly pulled her into a sitting position and gave her a small smile. “I know this is unexpected.”

“What gave you that idea?”

He laughed nervously and reached for the ring off the bow. Kennedy eyed it like it was a poisonous snake and scooted back farther on the couch away from it.

“I know things haven’t been great between us, and that’s partly my fault,” he said, rolling the ring between his fingers. “I made you feel like you couldn’t depend on me or trust me to do something when I said I would. But I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to prove to you that I could be that man.

“This ring,” he said, reaching for her hand, “is my promise to do just that. We don’t have to get married tomorrow or next month or even next year. I just want you to know that I am committed to making this work and committed to you.” He slipped the ring on her finger, and if she hadn’t felt so numb, she would have snatched her hand away.

Kennedy stared at the diamond that made her hand feel like it had a hundred-pound weight tied to it.

“Brooks . . .”

“Kennedy, I know it’s startling by your reaction. But all I’m asking is for you to marry me one day. I want to prove to you that I can be everything that you need me to be for the rest of your life. So will you marry me . . . one day?”

Kennedy looked at his hopeful face and down at the ring, and felt like the walls were closing in on her. She jumped up and paced around the room, but it didn’t help. She needed to get out of the apartment.

“I need out.” She grabbed her keys and jacket off the table. “I need to go out.”

“Kennedy.” Brooks stood and tried to console her, but she held up her hands and backed away.

“No. I just . . . need some air, Brooks.”

“Well, let me go with you.”

“No! I need to be alone right now. I need to think. I need . . . air. I need some space.” She opened the door. “Stay if you want. You don’t have to leave,” she rambled. “Wait for me. I’ll be back.”

“Kennedy, I don’t like the idea of you going out alone right now!”

“I’ll be back.” She shut the door in his face before turning and bolting to the elevator.

Once inside her car, where she didn’t have to look at Brooks’s face or answer his questions, her head cleared, and she knew exactly where she wanted to be. She sped out of the parking lot and drove the short distance to his apartment.

She pressed the buzzer repeatedly, praying he was home, and only stopped when she heard his voice crackle through the speaker.

“It’s me,” she sobbed.

When Memphis opened the door, she instantly threw herself into his arms and kissed him. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to have to answer questions. She just wanted him to take her and make her forget everything but the two of them again.