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“I didn’t even do anything.”
“Get him out of here.”
“Isaiah,” I say, attempting to reason with him.
“Please,” Isaiah says only to the security guard, eyes begging. “Get him out of here before I do something stupid.”
“You heard the man.” The security guard holds his arm out to gesture the way to the exit.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Vincent argues.
“Well, it’s his brother’s award ceremony and I work for them, so you’re out of here.”
The security guard escorts Vincent to the exit.
There’s an awkward tension hanging in the air, other people at the bar looking at us.
And Isaiah is pissed.
“Isaiah, that—”
“I’m not having this conversation right now.”
His voice is hushed for only us to hear before he rebuttons his suit jacket as if nothing happened and uses those long legs of his to put as much distance between us as possible. He’s across the field and down the dugout in no time at all.
I’m stuck in a state of disbelief before I put it in gear and chase after him.
“Isaiah!” I call out once I’m past the dugout to where it’s only us.
He doesn’t stop, continuing into the hallway that leads into the clubhouse.
“What’s wrong with you? What the hell are you so pissed off about?”
Those words finally stop him, turning him back to face me, anger and hurt written all over his face.
“What’s wrong with me?” He exhales out a dry laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that my brother just announced his retirement and I’m a fucking mess right now, Kennedy. And yeah, I get it. You’re leaving too, but if you want to do that shit while we’re still married—” He motions towards the field and bar where we just came from. “You can go ahead and give me divorce papers right now.”
That halts me where I am, feet glued to the floor. “What?”
“You heard me.” He loosens the tie around his neck. “I get what this is to you. I know you’re going to see other people after me, but it’s sure as shit not going to happen while you’re still married to me.”
“I didn’t do anything!” My voice betrays me, frustration compounding because the entire time another man was hitting on me, I was thinking about him. Wanted it to be him.
That realization is too uncomfortable to admit, so I don’t. I put it back on him.
“I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want him touching me. But you can’t stand there and say you haven’t touched another girl since we were in Vegas.”
His head visibly jerks back. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“And we had no agreement in place that said you couldn’t. I’m just saying, you can’t tell me not to innocently talk to someone when you’re—”
“When I’m what, Kennedy?” His voice is loud and angry. “When I’m constantly thinking about you? When I’m trying my best just to get you to notice me? Or when I’m too busy not touching other women. Because I haven’t laid a finger on anyone other than you. Not once. And not just since we got married. I haven’t even looked at another woman since the day I found out you ended your engagement. I would’ve waited for you since the day I met you had I known you weren’t in love with your fiancé. For years, I thought you were happy with someone else. But I only found out ten months ago, Ken. For the last ten months, I thought I might have a real shot, so I’ve tried my fucking best. I’ve waited for you to see me, and I’d wait the rest of my life if I thought I ever had a real chance with you, but I don’t. Do I? Never have.”
I’m stunned silent, right there in the hallway with the field behind me and him in front.
“God.” His exhale is full of agony. “Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you see me?”
I... I don’t know what to say, what to do. Everything I thought I knew about this man has been flipped entirely on its head tonight. Though I guess it’s been changing for weeks now.
