Page 11

Kennedy

I ’m divorcing him.

That’s what’s wrong with him.

He’s gotten all these reminders of what I’m going to offer other men.

Not that I wanted another man.

“He’s fine, Mom,” I said, still calling Seb’s mother, Mom because to not do so would be a tip-off. “Honey, come here.” I hugged Seb and whispered in his ear. “I forgot about that blurt-mode setting you have.”

His hands closed around my waist. The hug may have been a mistake if I wanted to keep a physical distance from him and not fall into the trap we plummeted down last night. “This dress shows every curve of your body. My body. You still belong to me.”

“Yes, I’m still yours,” I released in a breathless rush, and right there, it all came back and the pretense felt easy. “This weekend, I’m yours. This weekend we can put a pause on...”

“What are you saying? This weekend you’ll give me a chance to make up for whatever I did wrong?”

“ Whatever you did wrong?” I crossed my arms. “You don’t know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Right, I worked too much.”

“Glad you thought that was no big deal.”

“What’s going on?” Aunt Marissa came up to us, tugging me at the waist.

She also narrowed her eyes on Seb.

Uh oh. She knows.

Luke, Tristan, and Grayson knew Seb and I were faking it, so one of those Hart brothers had to have spilled to their mother.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“We’re fine,” I said with a smile and held on to Seb.

“Okay.” She winked and waggled a finger at us. “This is Savannah’s weekend. You guys had your turn.”

A day I could never forget. My wedding may not have been as grand as a Christmastime, Fifth Avenue, five-star hotel shindig.

But Seb and I were more than happy to be married in Maryland at a simple, but fancy Baltimore Harbor restaurant.

I got to marry my best friend, the only man I ever loved. So yeah, a great day.

“You’re right. Sorry, Aunt Marissa. Work’s been busy. We haven’t...” Seb trailed off.

“You have something special,” Aunt Marissa said. “I wish my boys would find women who will love you the way Kennedy loves you, Sebastian. Just for you. And nothing else.”

That punched me in the gut, but loving Sebastian for who he was hadn’t been the problem. Work and schedules and his misguided priorities had torn us apart.

“How does the dress fit, Mrs. Hart?” One of the store people came up to me. “We pinched it in at the waistline since the last fitting. I can take some of it out.”

“She looks perfect,” Seb said and kissed me on the mouth.

“I’ll be back in the dressing room in a minute,” I said to the seamstress then pulled Seb behind a poofy dress. “I said I’d smile and hold your hand. You can’t keep kissing me like that Seb, it’s not fair.”

“I never said I would play fair.” He gripped my ass and pushed it against his groin.

“Free love time is over. Tristan was right, sex released the built-up tension and I can smile again. We took what we needed. But sex won’t change what we’re left with when everyone gets on Luke’s plane Monday morning to go home.” I stared at him. “And when you leave for California.”

“Maybe,” he grumbled.

My heart pounded. “What?”

I went dizzy wondering if he’d actually not go. He didn’t have to operate on superstar athletes. We didn’t need the money. No one needed fame.

The answer was right there in front of him. Why couldn’t he see it?

SEVEN HOURS LATER IN one of the penthouse villas, Seb shuffled in behind me. With his dark hair and gray suit, acting all king of the world, he’d taken my breath away.

I’d smiled all night at the rehearsal dinner held at an amazing restaurant overlooking the Central Park skating rink. Another thing we never did anymore. Drunk ice skating. Falling didn’t hurt as much when I was tipsy.

“I changed my mind.” I leaned on the wall near the hallway to the bedrooms. “I’ll make sure the second bedroom doesn’t look used.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just really liked how it felt this morning.”

Nodding, I said, “I bet. Even when I was there, Seb, you didn’t touch me.” Yet, at the table earlier, his hand had crept up my dress. Keeping me wet and on edge.

And confused as hell. I’d set a horrible example that he could get whatever he wanted with that body of his.

“I know. That was wrong,” he miraculously admitted. “And I swear... I can’t promise to not work endless hours, but I will never ignore your needs again, Kenna. Never .”

An amazing promise, but it didn’t change he was leaving. Or that I had my own superstar job waiting. Should I tell him? See what he’d say? A pit formed in my stomach, dreading the ‘so what’ on his face.

Or anger that I’d taken an anchor position, wedged myself in so firmly here in New York, I could never leave. Killing any chance of me going with him to San Francisco.

Staring in his green eyes, my resolve began to shatter. I needed to bolt into that second bedroom, lock the door, and push a dresser in front of it. I feared I’d cave and sleep with him.

“Good night, Seb.” With an aching heart, I slid against the textured wallcovering, wishing it was a sticker bush to kill the lust storming through me.

Thirty-six hours to go feeling like shit.

Any word on when the next asteroid would kill everyone on earth?