Page 54 of Paradise in Progress
Chapter twenty-one
Kennedy
Whirlwind.
That’s the only word I can use to describe the last forty-eight hours. I can barely wrap my head around everything that's happened. It’s like I blinked, and I’ve gone from being buried under the stress of trying to get the building permit approved to standing on-site, watching crews prepare for the construction of the overwater villas. My mind is still reeling from it all—racing through the frantic phone calls, the long meetings, and the nagging pressure that we were behind schedule and the threat of losing my job. It wasn’t until the plans were finally approved that I even allowed myself to breathe again.
Then, of course, there washim.
As I’m standing here on the resort property, watching the construction crews move like ants as they start work on the villas, I feel like I’ve been spun in a thousand directions at once. My mind is a mess, constantly shifting between excitement and anxiety, between thinking about the project andhim. It’s like I can’t separate the two—this mix of professional and personal chaos—and I don’t know which is making my heart race faster.
This villa project is going to be a massive success, but I can’t help thinking about how last night seemed like the start of something just as big. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
My phone ringing in my pocket has me startling out of my daydream. The tropical heat and humidity are fogging my brain. Glancing at the screen, I see Lana’s name and smile. It feels like forever since I’ve talked to my bestie. Knowing that it’s too loud to answer, I decline her call and type out a text, letting her know I’ll call her back shortly.
With one last glance, I find the foreman and make my way toward him.
“Miss Reed,” he greets.
I smile warmly as I glance around. Lumber lines the beaches, the sounds of heavy machinery humming and roaring as workers drill deep into the sandy soil, installing pilings that will support the villas. Metal clanking against metal echoes across the shoreline as cranes move in, lifting beams and foundation supports into place. Teams of workers in neon vests and hard hats move with precision, shouting instructions and coordinating tasks as they lay the groundwork for the structures. The air smells of saltwater and fresh lumber, the faint scent of sawdust mixing with the tropical breeze.
“Everything is moving quickly. Thank you for being prepared as soon as we got the go-ahead,” I say to the foreman.
“Of course, Miss Reed. We should have the site work and framework finished by the end of next week. We have teams in place to have around-the-clock crews working to ensure we hit the new deadline.”
I nod, jotting down his update in my notebook. “That sounds great. I wanted to let you know I’m taking off for the evening, but if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
We shake hands on that promise, and I move through the silky sand as the early evening sun beats down on me. A glass of wine and my bikini are calling my name. It’s been an exhausting work week, so I’m ready to be out of work mode.
I’m met with the rush of air-conditioned air as I step out of the elevator, a welcome contrast to the heat that’s been clinging to my skin all afternoon. Hours under the beaming sun with the construction crew, overseeing every detail, left my skin warm and tinged pink. I’m sure I was a pest to them, but there was no way I wasn’t going to verify they were in line with the blueprints and the very specific building permits. I wasn’t risking any more delays on this project.
I roll my neck and feel the twinge of my muscles as I let my bag slip down my arm and land on the couch with a soft thud. Slipping out of my sandals, I head straight to the galley kitchen. The penthouse is quiet except for the soft whir of the A/C unit, which is a stark contrast to the bustling resort. Normally, I’d be welcomed with Tristan’s deep timber, but right now, it’s just me. It’s well after five on a Friday, and he’s been a firm believer of business hour boundaries since we arrived on the island, which means he must’ve gotten caught up with something important.
My fingers instinctively swipe across my phone, pulling up my best friend’s name. A quick tap and the FaceTime call rings out as I prop the phone against a decorative bowl on the counter. The fridge door effortlessly pops open, and I smile at the sight of the chilled bottle of rosé, which has been calling my name for the past hour.
I reach for the bottle and bring it to the counter as I pull a crystal glass from the cabinet and wait for Lana to answer. Pulling the cork out, the pop sounds as my nose is met with the sweet, fruity scent ofthe wine. The call connects as I pour the blush-colored wine into a glass, the soft glug filling the silence.
“She’s aliiiiive,” my best friend answers in dramatic fashion as her face fills the screen.
“Lana, Lana, bo-fana,” I say by way of greeting.
We share a chuckle as I bring the glass to my lips and savor the light, refreshing taste of the fruity wine. Grabbing my phone, I hold it in the air until I have the perfect angle as I wander toward my room—phone in one hand and wine in the other.
“How’s my badass designer queen doing?” my bestie asks, her voice crackling. I walk through the doorway of my room and feel my shoulders relax.
My eyes land on my bed as images of Tristan and me tangled in my sheets flash through my mind. Last night, we each slept in our own rooms, and I’m not even going to lie, I missed being in his arms. I can’t explain the cosmic shift between us. How I went from hating him to drooling over his delicious body. All I know is that one night with Tristan will never be enough. Well, until reality slaps us in the face and we go back to New York.
“Earth to Kenny…”
Shaking my head, I fix my eyes back on my screen. “Sorry, girl, it’s been a crazy couple of days.”
I toss the phone onto the bed, flipping it so she can still see me, then set the glass of wine on the dresser. The air is lighter now, my shoulders no longer weighed down by the stress of the day. I open the closet and thumb through bikinis, finally settling on one with tropical colors.
"Spill. The. Tea. I know that look on your face. It’s the look of you hiding something from me."
I snort, grabbing my bikini from the drawer. "You havenoidea."
"Oh, I think I have some idea," she teases and leans in closer to her screen. "That grin is telling me everything. Something definitely happened. Did you finally—"
