Page 78 of Paradise in Progress
Tristan
Moisture gathers, clouding thewhites of her eyes, but she never lets the tears fall. “We’re done.”
I feel my face fall in shock.
Two words I never wanted to hear come out of Kennedy’s mouth.“We’re done.”I wanted to run after her. To beg her to listen to me. To apologize for letting this blindside her and to let her know that I don’t agree with the decision. But I don’t. I choose to be the cowardly version of myself. Feet frozen, I watch as she storms out of the lobby.
Please turn around. Please look over your shoulder.
She never does.
“Did she just quit on us?” I hear Xander ask.
Glancing at my older brother, I shake my head. “No, she didn’t quit on us.” I pause, swallowing past the thick emotion in my throat. “She quit on me.”
Fuck. What have I done?
I thought she’d be angry. I thought she’d be upset. But I never thought she’d end it all.
Running my hands through my hair, I try to think of how I can fix this. I’ve got to go after her. I can’t let her leave the island like this.Not after everything we’ve been through. I go to take a step, when my brother’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“Let her go, Tristan.”
I shrug out of his touch and turn my glare at him. But it’s Victoria’s voice that has me pausing my attack. “He’s right, Trist. Let her cool down. This is your moment, big brother. This is your time to show Dad how serious you are about the company. Talk to Kennedy when we get back to New York.”
Torn between what to do, I let my brain win out, rather than my heart. I let Kennedy go and pray to God she’ll let me explain when I get back to the city. That she’ll believe me when I say that what we have is deeper than this.
For the next three days, I drown myself in work…and alcohol. Although I never let the alcohol affect my work, I use it to cope as soon as I’m off the clock. I’ve moved from the penthouse to a small suite. I couldn’t be in that space without her, and I knew my dad wouldn’t stay anywhere else.
Xander and Victoria have tried to drag me out of my room, but I refuse. The only place I’ve gone is the boardroom, where Dad has had me sitting in back-to-back meetings, and to my balcony, where I stare out at the horizon, wishing I was anywhere but here.
I fucked up. I know I did, but I honestly didn’t think my dad would dismiss her so quickly. Nothing like him arriving, taking one look around, and sending her on her way. The least he could have done was include her in the sit-down luncheon he had thirty minutes later orhave her complete the tour with me. A whole thirty minutes after I watched Jayden load her luggage in the back of the sedan, she never looked behind her.
But that’s what I fell in love with. Kennedy’s ability to wear her confidence like a shield. The entire time I watched—from a distance—her shoulders were back, head held high, sunglasses firmly in place.
I’ve tried calling her, texting her, hell, even sending her emails from work with bullshit questions. She hasn’t returned my calls or texts and the emails she did return were so professional, HR would gladly use them as examples of how to communicate between departments.
There were no quips, no sass, none of the banter she’d been throwing my way for the past six years of knowing her. Her firecracker personality has been distinguished, and I’m the one holding the hose.
A soft knock on the door pulls my attention from where I’m moping on the balcony. With my beer dangling between my fingers, I move through the room until I’m pulling open the door. My younger sister stares up at me, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in my appearance.
I know I look rough; I don’t even think I’ve showered today, and if the crinkle in her nose is any indication, I’d say I smell a bit too. My beard is no longer neatly trimmed, my hair is a tousled mess from my hands running through it a thousand times, and the bags under my eyes are taking over my face.
“You look like shit,” she says as she pushes her way through my door.
“Well, fuck you very much, Tori.”
She shrugs as she moves farther into the room, and I’m on her heels. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”
“As much as I appreciate the critique, what are you doing here?”
Spinning around, she holds up the ice bucket, which is full of local bottled beer. “I thought we could have a sibs’ night.”
“I’m not really up for company.”
“And I’m family, not company.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow her onto the balcony, where I take my place in a chair, while she sets the bucket down and fishes us each out a bottle. Popping the top, I take a long gulp of the light beer as silence washes over us.
