First Dance (Strip in the City, Book 3)

13 • (Not) A Terrible Idea

Lucas

I check the clock above my front door every few minutes while editing my most recent reel for Thirst Trap Kitchen.

Today, I went out on a limb and made a savory tart with crisp green apples, creamy brie, and salty bacon. It's one of my new favorite recipes, and I hope Kennedy agrees–whenever she gets home and tastes it.

She's late getting back from ballet. And not just a little late. But a lot late. Four hours late.

I'm trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut that tells me something's wrong because I realize I'm probably just jealous. Kennedy went to work today and would be back in the same building as her fiance.

Kennedy being the sweet, thoughtful, kind person she is, I'm assuming she stopped to see him.

I swallow the lump that lodges in my throat.

Who knows? Maybe he came to his senses and told her he wants to marry her. Maybe she's lying in his bed right now, telling him how much she loves him and how much she's missed him. Maybe he's holding her face between his hands, kissing her the way she should be kissed. Apologizing for everything he's put her through.

The jealousy is almost too much for me to take, so I text her to see what time she plans on coming back home–or if she's coming back.

When I set my phone down, my head falls into my hands.

I know I have no right loving Kennedy the way I do, especially since she still wants to marry Flynn, but I can't turn my feelings off.

She feels like home to me.

As a military brat, home wasn't a place. It was a feeling I had whenever my dad was back from deployment, and the three of us were together. Whether in Hawaii, Georgia, or Connecticut, I felt at peace when he was there.

Nothing has felt like home since he died.

Watching my mom fall apart and sink into a depression I'm not sure she'll ever come out of left me feeling more alone than ever. She had been my constant during the tough times, but when my dad died, it was like she died, too.

Visiting her is tough. Mostly, she just talks about his death like she still can't believe it happened.

"How could someone so young and healthy just die? It doesn't make sense, Lukey. It just doesn't."

I thread my fingers through my hair and tug on the ends. I wish I could fix things for my mom, but after a few years of trying, I gave up. I've accepted that this is how things are.

I look up from my laptop and find the picture of a six-year-old Kennedy smiling back at me, and then I let out a long sigh.

Kennedy is the first person to remind me what home feels like, and it's hard to accept that she wants to marry Flynn.

She doesn't want to be with me. She made that clear this morning when she practically raced out of my apartment. It's like the second she realized she was in my bed and I was next to her, she bolted.

I stupidly keep waiting for her to see me in a new light and for things to change between us, and it's not.

If she's happy, I'm happy, and I'm going to have to be okay with that. Just like I had to accept that I couldn't change things for my mom, I can't change how Kennedy feels. Flynn is her person, and she's determined to spend her life with him.

The kiss we shared will become nothing more than another painful memory lodged in my already bruised heart.

Another hour passes, and I finish editing two more clips for Thirst Trap Kitchen, then schedule the posts.