All the Pretty Poses (23 page)

“Kennedy, please,” he says. The words are
simple, but it’s his voice that tells the tale. It sounds like the
raw, gaping wound that now occupies the space where my heart used
to be.

“There’s nothing left to say, Reese. I’m
packing my stuff and staying the night in Fiji. I’ll get a flight
home from there.”

He closes his eyes. “Please don’t do this.
Please don’t go.”

“We both knew this was only temporary. I hate
that it’s ending this way, but something would’ve happened sooner
or later.”

I hope my words sound more convincing than
they feel. In my heart, I had hoped this would never end, that I’d
finally get my happily ever after with the man of my dreams. But I
found out long ago that there are no heroes, that there’s no
Superman waiting to rescue me. It’s just me and whatever happiness
I can manage to dredge up for myself. Nothing more. Nothing
less.

“I didn’t want it to end, Kennedy. I wanted
us to be together. I still do.”

“I’m sorry, Reese. I truly am.”

I keep my expression as blank as I can as I
walk past him to the closet. I tell myself that if I can just hold
it together for a few more hours, I can curl up in a ball in the
privacy of some tropical hotel room and give in to the urge to
mourn the parts of my heart and soul that have just died.

“Kennedy please. Please don’t leave me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the sting of
tears and I bite my lip to hold back another gut-wrenching sob
that’s welled up inside me. I don’t trust myself to speak, to
answer him in any way, so I don’t. I just pull out a blouse and
some shorts and drop my towel to slip them on.

When I turn, the stricken look on Reese’s
face stops me in my tracks.

“I’m in love with you, Kennedy. You’re what
I’ve spent the last fourteen years of my life looking for. I just
didn’t know it. I didn’t know that I was the man I’ve always wanted
to be before I left you. And I’ve been less of a man every day
since. Please don’t walk away. I’ve never begged for a single thing
in my entire life, but I’m begging you. Please. Please don’t
go.”

I can’t hold it in one more second. The sound
is torn from me as though something vicious and awful ripped it
out. “Get out, Reese. I can’t do this again. I can’t survive it.
Please. Just get out.”

My knees quiver slightly before they give out
on me, dumping me in the floor. I cover my face and cry mercilessly
into my hands.

I feel Reese at my side before I hear him,
like an inescapable gravity pulling me toward him. But I resist. I
have to. I know that it’ll be a miracle if I survive this much
again. I can’t let him take what’s left. I can’t.

When his arm comes around me, I jerk
violently away. “Don’t touch me! Just get out.”

The warmth of his presence recedes as he
stands and backs away. I hear his pause and I wait. Finally, after
forever has passed and taken a few more pieces of me with it, he
walks toward the door. I’m sobbing so loudly, I almost miss his
soft words.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.
For fourteen years, I’ve loved you. And I’ll love you for a million
more.”

I hear another pause before the door opens
and then closes with a hushed, final click.

That’s when the pain
really
starts.

********

As much as I try to do on my own, being in a
foreign place with zero preparation and zero information is more
than I can deal with right now. Finally, I enlist Brian’s help. I
call him and, thankfully, he answers right away.

“Well, hello there, Belle. Has the ball
stopped long enough for you to remember us little people?” he asks
in his teasing, Disney way.

“Can you come to my room?” I ask without
preamble.

The line is quiet for a few seconds. His
response tells me he knows the situation is dire. “I’ll be right
there.”

Less than two minutes after the click of the
line going dead, there’s a muted knock at my door. Hesitantly, I
open it a crack, looking to confirm that it’s Brian and not
Reese.

He pushes past me and closes the door behind
himself. “Good God, what happened? You look like you’ve been run
over by a garbage truck.”

I’m too numb to even appreciate his colorful
analogy. “I need some help finding a place to stay on the island
until I can get a flight home. I don’t know…I don’t know anything
about Fiji, I have no money and don’t know where to find a bank
that’ll help an American. Do they have taxis here? Do they have
ATMs? Do they have places I can stay at the last minute? I mean…I
just don’t know anything. I’m so unprepared. I…” I trail off,
feeling so overwhelmed, I can’t even put my thoughts into adequate
words.

“Why do you need any of those things? What
happened?”

I look Brian directly in the eye for the
first time. I didn’t want him to see the wreckage, but maybe seeing
it will save me from having to explain it. “Things just didn’t work
out.”

His eyebrows fly up. “That boy is off the
market for you. What the hell is that matter with you?”

“He’s engaged,” I answer simply.

Brian’s mouth falls into a silent, round O.
It’s plain to see that he didn’t know either.

When he recovers, he takes my hand in his and
gives it a squeeze. “Tell me what you need. I’ll make it
happen.”

I give him a watery smile and squeeze his
hand back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- Reese

“I found her, sir,” Karesh says when I
answer. Relief washes through me.

“Where is she?”

“She’s staying at a small bed and breakfast
in the heart of downtown.”

“So she didn’t use the
bure
either.”
It’s bad enough that Kennedy is leaving me, but the fact that she
won’t even let me help her is tearing me up inside. I had Karesh
make every conceivable arrangement for her, but she hasn’t used any
of them. Not the car, not the
bure
, not the money that was
wired to her.

“Has she claimed the plane tickets yet?”

“No, sir. From what I can ascertain, Brian
has helped her make her own arrangements for her return trip. It
seems she’s determined not to avail herself of your assistance”

I can’t say that I’m entirely surprised.
Kennedy is strong and stubborn and she’s had to let me go before.
This time should be easy for her. And although I don’t want her to
hurt, especially not over me, it still feels like I’m being stabbed
in the chest over and over and over.

“Keep an eye on her, Karesh. You watch her
get on the plane. You watch her make her connection in Los Angeles.
And you watch her unlock the door to her townhouse. I want to know
she’s taken care of the entire way and I want to know when she’s
home safe.”

“You know, sir, that you could go with her.
I’m perfectly capable of managing the rest of this cruise in your
absence.”

“I know you are, Karesh, but she doesn’t want
me following her. She needs space. Besides, there are some things I
need to do.”

“As you wish, sir.”

At just after 9:00 PM, my phone rings. I’m
still knee deep in contracts and accounting ledgers, just like I’ve
been all day. My mood is testy to say the least and I’m really in
no mood to deal with anyone. Unless it’s Kennedy, of course.
Knocking at my door, telling me that she’s changed her mind and
that she’ll never leave me. But it’s not. When Mr. Bingham
identifies himself, I’m both disappointed and irritated.

“What is it, Mr. Bingham?” I ask sharply.

“I have located the heir that was in
question. Mary Elizabeth Spencer.”

I sit up, aggravated but interested.
“And?”

“It turns out she is deceased, sir.”

“Deceased? When?”

Mr. Bingham clears his throat. “Thirteen
years ago, sir.”

“How was she tied to our family? I mean, was
she an ex-wife we never knew of? An illegitimate child?”

“It appears she was, in fact, an illegitimate
child, sir.”

“Do you know whose?”

“I do.”

There’s a long pause during which I have to
bite my tongue and keep a firm hold on my temper. “Well? Are you
going to tell me who?”

“She was yours, sir.”

I stand so fast my desk, which is bolted to
the cabin floor, creaks. “What?”

My mind races back through all the women I’ve
slept with, wondering who I might’ve accidentally impregnated. But
I’m always so careful. I always have been.

But then, like the first domino in a long
line, one telling puzzle piece falls into place and kicks all the
others over.

My world is shaken.

Thirteen years ago.

“Who was the mother?” I ask, my heart
racing.

“Kennedy Moore, sir.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX- Kennedy

It’s cold upon my return to Chicago. My
fingers shiver as I turn my house key in the knob. It’s not the
eighty-two degree outdoor temperature, of course. It’s the internal
hypothermia that has settled into my soul, a bone-deep chill that I
just can’t shake.

When I push open my front door, a
legal-sized, manila envelope is on the tile in the foyer. In what
feels like slow motion, I scoot it out of the way to roll my
suitcase inside. Someone must’ve squeezed the package under the
weather stripping. With my last bit of energy, I reach for it to
check the name and address on it. I don’t recognize it, so I toss
it on the counter to open later, once I’m unpacked. Once I can
think a little better. Once I can move with less effort.

I wheel my case into my bedroom and park it
at the foot of the bed. Exhausted, I perch on the end of the
mattress. Every step I’ve taken away from Reese has felt like I’ve
walked a mile. Every breath I take seems to be almost more energy
than I can expend. The minutes crawl by like lifetimes and each
lifetime stretches out into a succession of long, arduous moments
of pure misery.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly,
closing my eyes. In the blackness behind them, in the split second
that my mind isn’t otherwise occupied, my thoughts return to Reese,
as they have every few minutes since the agonizing one when I left
him on the ship two days ago.

Hours pass before I even move off the bed,
and more still before I make my way into the kitchen to feed Bozey.
As I scrape food from a can into his bowl, I notice the lightly
bronze hands at work. My hands. I’m reminded of my time in the sun.
My time with Reese.

I manage to get Bozey’s food on his mat
before I wilt into the floor, before I let go once more the tears
that seem to have no end.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- Reese

I grit my teeth and suppress a growl of
frustration as I get transferred to yet another useless imbecile at
the offshore bank that I use. I wish for the millionth time that
there were more hours in the day, and more minutes in the hours. I
need time. I need more of it and I need it to move faster. The
faster I can get things done, the faster I can get to Kennedy.

Since I watched her being ferried away from
my boat four days ago, an urgency has been building inside me. I
work tirelessly toward my goal, but still the urgency builds. With
every day it escalates, it escalates to…here. Here, where I can’t
move any faster. Here, where I can’t make
others
move any
faster. But I have to try. Because I have to get to Kennedy. I have
to get to Kennedy, but I have to get this done first. I can’t go to
her with anything less.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT- Kennedy

Hours have passed. Days have passed. Clive
has come to check on me. He must’ve seen me return a few days ago.
I’m not surprised. He’s always pressed up against his front window,
watching the goings on of his neighbors.

More than once, he has kindly offered an ear,
and then a shoulder once he got a good look at my ravaged face.
I’ve declined both offers, telling him that I’m just tired and that
I need some time alone.

By the sixth day—six excruciatingly long,
empty days since I left Reese—I’m not sure I’ll recover this time.
The love that a twenty-nine year old woman feels is far, far
different than that of a fifteen year old girl. I have no doubt
that I loved Reese even then, all those years ago, but I know it
paled in comparison to what I feel for him now. I’ve loved him and
hated him with equal measure. Why can’t I just
not care
?

Day and night have lost their meaning. I’m up
all hours and sleep in short bursts. The shades are always drawn to
keep the harsh world
out
and me
in.
So when the bell
rings, I don’t realize it’s the middle of the night until I answer
the door and see the pitch black surrounding Reese’s beautiful
face.

My heart finds a hole in the floor and drops
completely out of sight. While I wish I could hate him for all that
he’s done to me, I thrill at the tingle that I get from his
closeness. It’s as though all my cells are excited by the presence
of his, the way water is excited by heat.

I say nothing. I just stand and stare at him.
I could stand and stare at him for the rest of my life and never
get tired.

He says nothing either, just lets his eyes
rove over my face. Finally, he moves, but only one hand, which he
raises to brush over my cheek.

“You’ve been crying,” he says softly.

“Yes,” I answer flatly.

“Over me.”

“Yes.” There’s no sense denying it.

His eyes glow with profound sadness that even
I can see. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I’m an ass, Kennedy. Because I’m a
driven, selfish ass just like my father. But mostly because I was
completely unprepared. For this. For
you.
” Reese takes a
step toward me. Slow, tentative, like he’s afraid I’ll spook. “I
didn’t see you coming, Kennedy. I didn’t see you coming fourteen
years ago and I didn’t see you coming two months ago. I let things
get in the way last time, but I’m not about to make the same
mistake twice.”