Page 49 of Paradise in Progress
Her chest heaves and her face falls. I want to erase the pain and go back in time when we were sailing across the ocean in our little bubble. Gone were the worries of tomorrow and the pain from yesterday. We were living in the moment and soaking up each other’s company for the first time in our entire relationship.
“Kennedy,” I press, searching her face for any clues as to what’s racing through her mind. “Talk to me. I can’t fix things if you won’t tell me what I did to royal fuck up when it comes to you.”
She shakes her head. The beautiful head with the delicate features and the swollen lips from our kisses. “In college, I would work my ass off. I didn’t party. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t do anything but study, and there you were, constantly swooping in with your arrogant ways to gain the attention of every professor in our major.”
“That’s why you’re so pissed off with me? Because I received more acknowledgments than you?”
“Well, it sounds really fucking stupid when you put it like that.”
“It kind of is.”
“No, don’t do that.” Her voice rises before pausing. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Don’t make my feelings invalid. They were real for me.”
“Of course, your feelings are valid, Kennedy. I guess I just don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand.” Her face is filled with anguish, and I hate that I’m the reason for it. I can feel her walls rebuilding. I can’t watch it happen, not again. We’ve come too far to go back to the beginning.
“You’re right, but I want to. Can you try to explain it to me?” Shoulders relaxing, I take a tentative step toward her as I lift my hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face, but I don’t get the chance.
She shakes her head, turning and walking away, putting distance between us. I think she’s going to ignore the question, but she turns around and flails her arms out, her soft voice filling the room. “Getting to NYU was my only dream. I have given up a lot of my life to achieve my dreams, and that was fine; it was a sacrifice I wanted to make. But I thought when I got to NYU, it would be easier. I’d work hard, study, and finally get the praise I guess I was desperate for. No one back home, not even my parents, gave me the credit that I deserved for getting a 35 on my ACT and a 1540 SAT score. Not to mention, graduating with a 4.0. It hurt that no one gave me the credit I deserved. But I thought when I got to college, people would recognize how much grit and determination was needed to get to where we were.
“So I’d sit in the front row, participate in class, and focus on everything the professors had to say. But then you would show up late, sit in the back, and constantly get called in when I was the one showing up early, taking notes, and voluntarily raising my hand to answer questions.”
Thinking back on my time in NYU, I can see where she developed a negative impression of me. The Nelson name carried a lot of weight on campus. While I wasn’t in a fraternity, like my father, the attention was still drawn to me. I was treated like a celebrity, and the professors noticed my name on their rosters. They gave me extra attention in hopes that their goodwill would make it back to my father. I couldn’t have cared less about their attention. I was there because I had to be there.
“I didn’t realize how much you wanted it.”
She huffs, but then whispers, “No one knew how much I wanted it.”
“Things were rough for me, and I used my name to get by with a lot of things. I’m not proud of it, and I know it was a shitty thing to do, but I felt like my life was imploding. So even though I’ve never been one to want the fame that came with my name, there were times when I milked the system,” I admit, not proud of the fact that, in my time of need, I was using everything I could to keep my head above water.
“I’m sorry you were going through a tough time.”
Our eyes lock, emotion coursing through hers as we stare at each other. “It’s not your fault, Ken.”
And it’s not. That time of my life has been put in a locked box. I refuse to fetch the key and open old wounds. I spent a lot of time in therapy working through things, and after graduating college, I finally felt like I was becoming a new, better version of myself. Only to find myself working for my father.
“I hated you for a long time. I hated that your papers were always used as examples, that you had an article posted inArchitectural Digestabout the next up-and-coming in the industry, and I hated how you won that damn senior project. You didn’t need that prize money. That two-grand would have helped me feel a sense of security as I was struggling to make ends meet. The billionaire’s son didn’t need it.”
“For what it’s worth, I donated the money.” Her eyes widen.
Running my hands through my hair, I stare out the window at the dark waters. The black night seems fitting for the ominous mood that has settled over us. “I hate this, Kennedy.”
She ignores me as she stands across the room, her shoulder leaning against the glass panes of her sliding patio door, her gaze is locked on the world around us.
“How can I fix this?” I plead, knowing how desperate I sound. “Tell me how I fix this, Kennedy.”
Turning her attention toward me, I watch that confidence slide into its rightful place across her beautiful face as she steels her shoulders.
What she says next has me sucking in a breath of pure and utter shock. Three words I would have never imagined come flying out of her mouth with such conviction, it sends a shiver of pure anticipation down my spine.
“Crawl to me.”
Chapter nineteen
Kennedy
“Crawl to me.”
