Page 24 of Paradise in Progress
“Not tonight.” She peers up at him. “I only have one more night with my sister.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cigarette. The two of them carry on while he has a smoke and we wait for our dad to show up, while I search for items I need for in-store pickup. Hopefully, by ordering tonight, I’ll avoid the Black Friday rush of tomorrow, which should be fine since most of the items I need aren’t the in-store specials but everyday essentials.
Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m heading back to my childhood home with my little sister to have one of our Reed sister sleepovers with popcorn and a cheesy 2000s romantic comedy playing in the background while we gossip.
Chapter ten
Tristan
The last forty-eight hourshave been an absolute whirlwind. One minute, I was sitting at my parents’ dining room table, enjoying a delicious spread my mom and sister spent hours preparing, and the next, my phone was blowing up with problem after problem on our St. Lucia project. Dad glared at me from across the table as if these issues were my fault.
Too bad for him, I filed all the paperwork correctly, and the zoning committee decided they had more issues than they previously let on. It’s almost as if they want us to fail with this remodel.
I certainly don’t want this project to fail. Not for my sake and certainly not for Kennedy’s. For the past nine months, the two of us have worked diligently to make sure everything runs smoothly—well, as smoothly as possible when you’re dealing with a renovation two thousand miles away.
I dreaded making the call to Kennedy while she was home with her family. She was so excited to finally be able to see everyone and, unlike what she might think, I didn’t want to rain on her parade. These situations are not ideal for anyone, and based on the new timeline, she won’t be going home for Christmas either. The two of us will be having Christmas on the island.
But it’s fine. Or at least it will be.
Bringing the ceramic mug to my lips, I take a sip of the rich, dark roast coffee and find Kennedy curled up on the couch opposite me. She looks exhausted, but still gorgeous in her matching slate gray waffle loungewear set. When she climbed the steps to board the jet, I noticed the dark circles she tried to hide under her eyes. And after much convincing, I talked her into lying on the couch for a few more hours of sleep. She refused to go to the back of the jet and sleep in the private bed, but I’ll take the couch as a win. The flight to St. Lucia will be around five hours, so she might as well make the most of it.
As we approach the island, there’s a small bout of turbulence that has Kennedy jumping out of her skin. She quickly hops into the captain’s chair across from me, fastening her seatbelt in record time.
Practically trembling, she squeezes her eyes shut. Her fingernails are going to leave half-moons in the leather from the death grip she has on the armrests. Reaching across the aisle, I place my palm on her thigh, unintentionally startling her, and her eyes bug out at the contact.
“We’re okay, Firecracker.”
Her eyes squeeze shut, and her head shakes, telling me she doesn’t believe a word. Flying has never bothered me. Sure, the idea of plummeting to the ground thirty-thousand feet in the air is terrifying, but I’ve never given it much thought. I figure I have a better chance of getting hit by a cab in the city than crashing in a plane.
Clearly, Kennedy doesn’t have that same mindset.
Without much thought, I’m unfastening my seatbelt and reaching for hers.
“What the hell are you doing, Tristan?” she hisses, her eyes wide and wild as pure panic takes over.
I don’t answer. Instead, I unclip her belt and reach underneath her knees. Pulling her toward me as she panics, I carry her back to my seat, where I stretch the belt across both of our laps. Without hesitation, she curls into me, burying her face in my neck.
The movement causes growing farther south as she sits on my lap. I cannot have that kind of reaction to her, especially not right now, while she’s in the midst of a panic attack.
Gritting my teeth, I try to think of anything else. Maybe I should think about us plummeting to the ground—that will no doubt cure any arousal. But then her nose nuzzles into my neck, and I fight the groan that wants to escape. It’s been forever since I had a girl this close to me.
“You smell good.”
A soft chuckle leaves my lips. “Thank you.”
“That was supposed to be an inside thought.”
“Of course, Firecracker. We can’t have you giving me compliments.” We hit another rough patch, and her fist tightens against my dress shirt as I pull her in tighter. “I’ve got you, Ken.”
“I don’t want to die in a fiery crash with you.” Her words are mumbled against my skin, but I hear every one.
Trying to soothe her, I rub small circles on the inside of her thigh as I look for any way to keep her mind preoccupied. “God forbid you spend all of eternity with me.”
“Exactly. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
A few minutes later, the pilot comes across the speaker, letting us know that we should be clear of the turbulence as we make our descent into St. Lucia. Kennedy’s head pops up from my shoulder and our eyes meet. There’s something in her gaze I can’t quite figure out. Isshe relieved? Thankful for the distraction? Before I have a chance to analyze her more, her fingers work the clasp of the safety belt.
