Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“I think so.”
“You don’t know?” Kenny felt ridiculous and pathetic in the face of his incredulity. “Kenna, when’s the last time you were really, genuinely happy?”
The day I met you. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue and she considered them and wondered if that was indeed true. How could that be? There were nearly two years between that point and now. How could she not have been truly happy since then?
It wasn’t possible.
She hesitated a beat too long because he made an impatient sound and turned away from her again.
“When we met.” She threw the words at him desperately and he froze. Shoulders set, head back, body so taut it was as if he’d turned into a living statue. A beautiful piece of art.
She watched his back, waiting.
“I don’t know if I find that sad or just plain manipulative,” he finally admitted, turning his head to look at her, while keeping this body angled toward the house.
“You wanted honesty.”
“Yeah. And the truth is pretty fucking damning, wouldn’t you say? You haven’t been happy. Neither have I. We don’t belong together. We never did. Having a baby with your pretend husband isn’t going to miraculously fix what’s broken inside of you, Kenna.”
“I’m not broken,” she protested, but it was a lie and she knew he knew that.
He laughed again, the same dry, brittle bark as before.
“You might not be, but I am. You and this fucked-up excuse of a marriage broke me. And that’s as honest as I can get with you right now. I’m leaving. Tomorrow.”
“Please don’t.” The plea emerged on a whisper but he was already on his way inside and didn’t hear her.
Kenny stood in the middle of the path with nothing but a lovelorn cricket for company and her world in tatters around her feet.
Chapter
Three
After a restless night peppered with nightmares and very little sleep, Kenny awoke feeling groggy and out of sorts. For a few moments she just lay in her queen-sized bed, head buried beneath a lightweight summer comforter, considering how catastrophically her world had shifted in the last twenty-four hours.
Smith was leaving her.
Despite expecting this very outcome for nearly the entirety of their marriage, Kenny couldn’t quite believe it had come to this. Now that the moment had arrived, it felt surreal, unwarranted.
Unfair.
In her fear of becoming too attached and getting hurt, she had unintentionally alienated her husband. This was her fault. She could have been more…forthcoming. She knew that. Accepted the lion’s share of the blame. But she wanted another shot at their marriage.
A do-over. It was childish. Irrational. And Kenny was usually unfailingly pragmatic.
Her brain told her to accept the inevitable, absorb the unexpected pain of it, and move on with her life.
But her stubborn pride refused to fail at anything. And her heart, which she’d believed so well defended, ached at the thought of losing a man she’d never really considered hers.
He’d been adamant last night. Unyielding. Gruff and brutally honest. But Kenny hoped that resolve had softened somewhat overnight. Perhaps he’d be more open to talking today.
The thought of opening herself up, dropping her defenses and allowing him unfettered access to her unguarded heart, absolutely terrified her. What if she revealed to him her every vulnerability, showed him the real McKenna, and he still found her lacking and left anyway?
That crippling fear of rejection, fueled by an insecurity which many who thought they knew her would find utterly shocking, was foremost on her mind as she lay on her back and stared at the vaulted ceiling. It was the reason her entire body felt numb and incapable of movement. Sheer self-preservation kept her in place for excruciatingly long moments.
“It’s going to be fine,” she whispered, her vision blurring as she continued to stare at the ceiling. The summer sun, which had risen at least three hours ago, made her room too bright, too damned cheerful. She was usually an early riser and, as such, did not bother with blackout curtains, so the light was filtered only by sheer white curtains gently billowing on a soft breeze that cooled the room, courtesy of the open window.
Kenny shifted her gaze and stared at the top of the pom pom tree planted directly beneath her second-floor window. It had started blooming a few weeks ago and the fluffy, pale pink flowers reminiscent of the pom-poms from which it derived its name, gave the tree a candy floss appearance. Kenny usually enjoyed seeing it first thing in the morning, but today the whimsical beauty of the tree barely registered, as she lay there, her body frozen and her stomach twisted into painful knots.
She had to move and get downstairs to try and talk with him. Smith was also an early riser. Even following a night of excesses, he was usually up at dawn for a run, after which he’d hit a few balls around the court.