Page 82 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Grabbing my shoes off the bed, I hurry into the living room while a legion of butterflies take flight in my stomach, making me feel woozy and light-headed.

Seriously, Kait. You’ve let this man do things to you that you’d never even dreamed of before you met him. You can have dinner with him without passing out.

Even though I’m not entirely sure that’s true, I open the door, and nearly do just that.

Because holy shit.

I’m surrounded by gorgeous men all day long—I work for the Gilroys, after all—but none of them have ever effected me the way this man does. In nothing but a pair of sweats and a worn T-shirt, Wentworth Fiorella is easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. In a dark, custom-made suit, tattoos peeking past the cuffs and collar of his impeccably fitted dress shirt, he’s almost otherworldly.

Realizing that all I’m doing is standing here and staring at him while probably drooling, I hold up my shoes on a slightly flustered smile. “I still can’t walk in these.”

Giving me a crooked grin, Went reaches for my shoes while making his way through the open doorway. Shoes in hand, he gently pushes me back into the living room. “I’ll try to remember that for next time.” When the back of my knees hit the coffee table he gives me another nudge. “Sit.”

Like a prize poodle who wants treats, my ass hits the coffee table before even fully processing what he said.

Hunkering down in front of me, Went gives me a smirk. “I’m not going to get attacked by your guard dog if I touch you, am I?”

“No.” Fighting the shiver that shoots down my spine at the prospect of having his hands on me, I shake my head. “He’s not here. He’s having a sleep over with Molly.”

“Good to know,” he murmurs quietly before reaching out to run his hand along the back of my leg. Finger teasing across the sensitive skin behind my knee, he grips my calf and lifts my foot off the floor to slide it into one of my waiting shoes.

“Funny…” It comes out soft, more whimper than word, while he reaches for my other leg, caressing the back of it before lifting it off the ground. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“Don’t let the smirk fool you, Sunshine.” The look on his face suddenly grows serious. “I’m fucking terrified.”

Before I can say anything, Went drops my foot and stands. “Ready?” he asks, holding out his hand to help me up.

“Let me just grab my bag.” Dropping my hand into his, I nod. “I’ll be right back.” Taking a few teetering steps, I find my balance before making my way to my bedroom where I duck into the bathroom to do a final check in the mirror and spritz on some of the fancy perfume Henley gave me for my birthday a few months ago.

You can do this, Kait. It’s going to be just fine. Nothing you haven’t done before.

The last time Went took me to a fancy restaurant, it was for our two-week anniversary.

We never made it to dinner for our third.

Wrong thing to think about, right now. Just focus on getting through the next few hours. Everything is going to be fine.

Leaving the bathroom, I snatch the small, expensive black evening bag Went was thoughtful enough to include with thedress and the shoes, off my dresser. Making sure I have my debit card, emergency cash and my ID, I exit the bedroom, taking the short trip down the hall to find Went standing in front of the framed drawing of me and Two-tone, leaned against the wall where I intended to hang it.

On the coffee table between us, my bucket list notebook is open and turned to its most current page. Cheeks suddenly flush because I know it was closed before I went to grab my purse, I clear my throat and open my mouth while I try to find a plausible explanation for what I’m sure he read while he was snooping through my notebooks. Before I can find one, or possibly snipe at him for invading my privacy again, Went hears me and turns.

“We should go,” he says while flicking a dark, unreadable look in my direction before moving toward my still open front door. “If we’re late, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

FORTY-FIVE

WENTWORTH

I shouldn’t have looked.

Even while I was looking, I was telling myself not to. That it was wrong and that even if I don’t really care about the right or wrong of it, there was a pretty good chance that what I saw was probably going to make me angry at her, all over again because it was going to be a reminder of the life Kait’s lived after she left me.

Knowing that didn’t matter. As soon as I saw the beat-up blue notebook sitting on her coffee table, I knew what it was and that I was going to look at it anyway.

Lowering myself onto her couch, I sat on the edge of it and pulled it closer and flipped it open to the first page.

Tell Luke I’m sorry

Tell my father to fuck off

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