Page 102 of Meant to be Mine

“And say what? ‘Sorry, but I mistook Kensey’s pussy for orange chicken?’”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t say that,” Drew said, cracking a smile, which instantly vanished when I glared at him.

I shook my head. “This is so bad, Drew. This is so, so bad.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yes, it is!” I turned to face him fully, and the tears I’d been fighting finally spilled over. “I have a reputation to protect. I have a career.” I gestured helplessly between us. “It makes me look unprofessional. Like I’m some kind of slut.”

“No one’s going to think that,” he said. “Lots of people have sex every day. There’s no crime in it.”

“You don’t know what people will think.” I wiped at my eyes with the heel of my hand. “Especially not in a situation like this.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.” I felt exhausted suddenly, drained of all the nervous energy that had been keeping me upright. “I just—I need to go home. I need to think.”

“Kensey, you don’t have to run away.”

“Please.” I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it earlier. “I can’t be here right now. I need space.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll get an Uber. I need to be alone right now.”

Hurt flashed across his face, but I couldn’t deal with that right now. I couldn’t deal with any of this. I just needed to get out of this office, away from the scene of my humiliation, and figure out how to salvage what was left of my dignity.

I left without looking back.

The ride to my parents’ house felt like it took forever. I sat in the back seat, staring out the window, replaying the moment over and over in my mind. The look on Edith’s face. The disgust in her voice. The way she couldn’t even look at us.

I felt sick.

By the time the car pulled up in front of my parents’ house, I’d worked myself into a state of full-blown panic. What if Edith did tell people? What if this got back to the school somehow? What if my professional reputation was ruined because I couldn’t keep my hands off Drew Blackwell for five minutes?

33

DREW

Idragged myself through the morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Coffee. Suit. The motions were familiar enough that I didn’t have to think about them, which was good because my brain felt like it was drowning in molasses on a cold January day.

A lack of sleep would do that to a person. Except this time it wasn’t because I’d spent the night tangled up with Kensey. It was because I’d spent it staring at my ceiling, replaying the look on her face when she’d left the office. The panic. The tears. The way she’d pulled away from me like I was toxic.

I’d fucked up. Royally.

And the icing on this shit sundae was that I needed to be focused on the sidewalk event today. It was impossible to focus with all the thoughts swirling through my head.

I grabbed my keys and headed out. The weather was perfect for what should have been one of the best days of my professional life. Instead, I felt like I was walking to my own execution. The event was happening whether I was ready or not.

I forced myself out of the car and headed toward the store. The second I rounded the corner, I stopped. The transformation was stunning. Overnight, the crew had finished everything. Booths and tents lined the entire plaza, each one perfectly spaced. String lights crisscrossed overhead. Food trucks were already positioning themselves at the south end, the smells actually making me hungry.

It was exactly like we had planned. The event would be all over Instagram by noon. And all I could think about was whether Kensey would even show up.

I checked my phone. Nothing. I’d texted her twice this morning and never heard a peep back. She left me on read, which was its own special kind of torture.

Micah appeared from inside the store, tablet in hand and looking far too energetic for this hour. “There you are. Everything is looking golden.”

“Great,” I said, forcing enthusiasm I didn’t feel.