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All the hope I had, all the happiness I had allowed myself to feel once more, all becomes numb. I sigh. “I know it was a mistake coming here to see you. I won’t make it again.”
“Kenneth, wait!” Kasey cries, but my longer legs have me at her door in two strides, and I’m shutting it behind me as I reach the hall before she has a chance to stop me.
It feels like my insides are turning to stone, my heart included, and I fucking welcome it. I can hear her rushing to get dressed, so I skip the elevator and take the stairs, knowing I’ll be long gone before she’s finished.
If she wants to leave, fine. But as far as seeing me in New York? Not if I still am made of stone by then, a statue of a man. If that’s the case, then I hope to stay hardened like this for the rest of my life. Better that than to let her in again.
“Goodbye, Kasey,” I breathe to no one but myself as I reach the bottom of the stairs, looking back up to where I know she’s looking for me. “Goodbye, baby girl.”
6
KASEY
As soon as my feet touch the ground back in New York, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake by leaving Kenneth behind in Hawaii. My entire being feels heavy with the weight of missing him, and there’s an ache in my chest that won't go away.
I try to push him out of my mind, telling myself that I barely know him, that I am being foolish, but it’s no use. I can't stop thinking about him.
Telling myself these lies isn’t helping. I know him, of course, I do. I know Kenneth deep in my heart, in my soul, and I might have lost him forever.
Hawaii has taught me one simple thing, and it might be the most important lesson I’ll ever learn—love does not follow any rules, it makes its own. It seems crazy to be so in love after such a short time, but I’m more than sure that truly I love Kenneth like he’s a part of me. I have never felt this way before—this longing, this deep connection to another person. It’s a feeling I can't shake no matter how much I try.
As I walk back into my little eclectic efficiency apartment, memories of Kenneth flood my mind. The way he looks at me, the sound of his laugh, the feel of his hand in mine, and especially how it felt to have him inside me for the first time, marking both my body and my heart as his and his only.
Even the way he kissed me so softly after our last encounter, my nerve endings still firing from the mind-blowing orgasm he had given me…even that little kiss haunts me. It’s all so fresh in my mind, and I know I can't let him go.
Staring out at the city, dropping my luggage at my feet, I make a decision. Kenneth came to rectify things when he learned the truth about the job interview, and now I have to be the one to reach out and make things right.
I’m determined to turn this all around, to make Kenneth know what he means to me. I don't know how exactly, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I begin to think about all the things that went wrong and what I can do to make it right. I can't believe that I let a job interview I didn't even apply for ruin things with the man I love. I feel like an absolute moron.
One thing is clear—I need to talk to Kenneth and explain everything. Most importantly, apologize for leaving like I did. I need to show him that I’m committed to our relationship, no matter how new it is. But how? I don't even know where to start.
So I do what I always do when I'm faced with a problem—I make a list. Sitting on my bed, I dig through my bedside table until I find a notebook and pen and set to work. The first draft is long and winding, full of all the things I adore about Kenneth—from his tall, sculpted body and his intense blue eyes to the way he’s hard and commanding to the world around him, but sweet to me alone.
Cutting things down, I manage to make a plan of action, and if I can manage to get it all finished before Kenneth gets back to New York, then maybe I can be in his arms again before the end of the week. God, I hope so.
Step one will be completing the interview but declining the job unless it can be done remotely so I don’t have to move. Step two will be writing to Kenneth to tell him exactly how I feel and promise him that I’m doing everything in my power to make sure we can try again once he gets home. And three, the only step that I’m dreading, will be to call Devin and settle things once and for all.
The interview is the easiest of the three by far. I open the email I received in Hawaii and schedule a time slot for as soon as possible. So, the same night I get home, I find myself fixing my hair and makeup in the mirror as I wait for the Zoom call to connect.
Mark Bradshaw, CEO of Bradshaw Investments, has that sharp, grating personality that some men businessmen have, and my dislike for it makes it easier for me to make my case with him. Mark laughs when I tell him that whether I get the job or not, I’ll be leaving as an intern, but sobers up when he realizes I’m serious.
I tell him that I plan on going freelance so I have more time to finish school, but if he still wants me to come on board as a junior web designer, I’m thrilled to take the opportunity as long as it can be remote. Mark examines me through the screen, but eventually, he tells me they will be in contact for a second interview and ends the call.
One down, two to go.
Running off the adrenaline of completing the job interview and actually sticking up for myself, I sit down to write the email to Kenneth. I have too much to say for a mere text, and the words just keep coming and coming—from my mind to my fingers to the keyboard.
I pour my heart out on the screen. I tell him about the job offer and my thoughts on going remote versus going freelance. I confess how much I care for him and how I'm ready to set all my hesitations aside so we can be together. I almost tell him that I love him but erase the line at the last second. That is important enough that only a face-to-face confession will do.
My heart is in my throat as I hit send. Will he still feel the same way even though I flew home, basically running away scared? Will he want to be with me as much as I want to be with him? I try to push the doubts aside and remind myself to have faith in our connection. It’s real. I know it is.
Once the message is sent, I sit back in my computer chair and think about the amazing days we spent together in Hawaii. The long walks on the beach, the romantic dinners, the passionate nights we shared…God, I miss him so much!
I can still feel his touch on my skin, his breath on my neck, and the warmth of his body next to mine. Except none of it is real now, only a dream.
Just as I suspected, calling Devin is the hardest part of all. He answers with a hesitant “Hello?”
“I still think you’re an asshole,” I start without a preamble, loving the sound of indignation he makes. “But we need to talk. I hope you’re sitting down.”
