But he couldn’t stand there forever and it was clear that whatever was going on with her, there was no way in hell she’d talk to him about it while at work. So he was left to wait and wonder.
But he couldn’t wait and wonder for long because after aimlessly wandering the office building for twenty minutes, it was time to go back to the studio to film the next segment.
He had to go be a happy-go-lucky clown.
Sweet.
Chapter Thirteen
Kat’s voice on the other end of the line was more of a screech. “What do you mean she dumped you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I seriously have no idea what happened back there.” He was halfway to the bar where he was supposed to meet up with some crew members… and Emma, apparently.
He still had no idea why, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was, he had a sick feeling that when he’d walked out that door to Kennedy’s office, it had ended. They were over. She hadn’t said the words but he’d read the situation.
She’d looked at him like he was nothing. But what the hell could have changed?
He stopped walking abruptly and a pedestrian bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He should keep moving. He should not stand here like an idiot, staring off into space.
But a thought had occurred to him, and it would make sense of her behavior.
Patrick was back.
To Kat, he said, “He’s back.” Cryptic, sure, especially since he’d never told her and Yvette the full details of his current arrangement with Kennedy. Not because it was a secret but because he’d been busy… in bed with Kennedy.
“Who’s back?” Kat asked, not unexpectedly.
“Patrick.” The name came out on a growl. God, he hated that name. He hated the man. He hated his anonymous face!
“Who the hell is Patrick?” Kat asked. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”
“Because you are,” he said with a sigh. “And I don’t have time to fill you in on the whole story right now because I’m about to have drinks with Kennedy’s roommate.”
“Why?”
“Great question.”
“I’m so confused,” Kat said.
“Join the club.” The bar came into view as he turned a corner and he spotted the pretty blonde walking in. He slowed his pace so he could finish up this not at all helpful conversation.
“Maybe her roommate can help you figure out what’s going on in Kennedy’s head,” Kat suggested.
“Maybe. But I’m not sure how to bring it up.”
“Why?”
He stopped, frowning at the bar door as he remembered the way Kennedy had practically thrown Emma at him before running away. “Because I’m pretty sure this is a date.”
“No.” Kat’s disbelief was obvious.
“Yes.”
“You think Kennedy—your Kennedy—is trying to set you up with her friend?”
He hated to even answer that. But the real reason he couldn’t respond vocally was because his brain had gotten stuck on what Kat had just said. Your Kennedy.
My Kennedy. He repeated the phase to himself multiple times and in a variety of voices.
It didn’t sound wrong. And it felt… right.
My Kennedy. Mine, mine, mine. Not Patrick’s. Mine.
“Cal?” Kat prompted.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. He hung up without waiting for a response. He had more questions than he could handle, and while he’d love some good insight from his friends, he didn’t have the time or patience to seek them out and explain this whole scenario from the beginning.
He needed to talk to Kennedy—really talk to her. But first… he looked through the glass door and saw Emma laughing with one of the crew members.
First he had to go on a date.
Emma’s face lit up when she saw him and he felt a jolt of guilt in response. Shit. What was he even doing here? He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be with Kennedy.
He ordered a drink and sat beside her, happy to let her and the others carry on the conversation while he moped over a beer.
“You okay?” Emma leaned in toward him, her voice soft and kind.
When he looked into her eyes he saw an intelligence there that shouldn’t have surprised him. She was Kennedy’s friend, after all. Kennedy wouldn’t have dumb friends.
But she also looked… knowing.
He tried to force a smile. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Liar.”
He was pretty sure his face expressed very clearly just how confused he was. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’re a liar,” she said simply before taking a sip of her pink cocktail. Before he could argue the point, she said, “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m positive Kennedy is even more miserable than you are right now.”
He blinked at her.
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a slightly condescending smile. “Don’t worry, Caleb. I didn’t say yes to this weird blind date because I actually want to date you.”
She said it in such a comforting tone, it was hard to take offense. “Okay,” he said, certain he was failing this conversation in a major way. “So, why did you say yes?”
She let out a little exhale that he recognized. It sounded just like Kat’s sigh when she had to explain to him yet again how to file his taxes.
“Because much as I love Kennedy, she can be a bit obtuse at times.”
He let out a short laugh. “Have you ever said that to Kennedy? Something tells me that wouldn’t go over well.”
Emma’s grin was instant and megawatt. Shit, this girl really was pretty.
But she still wasn’t Kennedy.
“Of course not,” she said, her Southern accent making it come out in a sing-song tone. “I let Kennedy go on believing that she’s got it all figure out,” she said sweetly. “But I think you and I both know that she’s got her head up her butt when it comes to love.”
His heart stopped. His hands went numb. “Love?”
Was that his voice? It sounded like a teenage girl’s voice, not a leading man’s.
Her pert nose wrinkled up as she considered him. Then she let out another exasperated sigh. “You don’t see it either, do you?”
His heart was pounding so hard it was deafening. “See what?”
She gave him a smirk. “Patrick’s coming back.”
Oh fuck. His gut churned as his heart twisted in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think, he was—
“Uh huh,” Emma said, setting down her drink. “That’s what I thought?”
“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice filled with more than a hint of desperation. “And when is that D-bag coming back?” Shit, he was probably back already. He’d known that was it from the start.
He fucking despised that guy.
“I don’t know,” Emma said with a shrug.
“But you just said—”
“I don’t know exactly when he’s coming back,” she said, unperturbed by his glare. “But he will come back… eventually.”
They stared at one another. He wanted to be pissed at her for getting him all worked up, but he was too busy being relieved that Patrick wasn’t currently headed to Kennedy’s apartment. “What are you playing at?” he finally demanded.
She didn’t even try to hide her smugness. Hell, this girl might look like an angel, but she was clearly a little devil. “I just wanted you to open your eyes. You love Kennedy, just admit it.” She shook her head in apparent annoyance as she reached for her drink. “One of you needs to.”
It seemed his lot in life was to be permanently flummoxed. He kept staring at Emma as though by watching her mouth he could make sense of her words.
But in truth, it was just his brain that had issues keeping up. His heart was on board. It heard the word love and something clicked into place inside him, as if all these wonky emotions now had a place to settle.
Love. This was love.
>
Was it?
The image of Kennedy’s face popped up in his mind’s eye and his chest tightened painfully.
Yes. This was love. He needed her. He wanted her. He fucking loved her.
His laugh came out winded, like he’d just got done with a run. His whole body felt weightless for a moment as the full meaning behind this sank in.
He’d done it. He’d finally found her. It felt like a lifetime of waiting… but it was all worth it. He’d found his perfect fit.
And she was nothing like she’d imagined.
His brain felt compelled to point out the obvious, but he brushed it aside. For the first time he finally understood what Yvette and Kat had been trying to tell him.
When love came, it came. He had no say over it and it was ludicrous to think that he could order up his other half like he’d order a burger. I’d like that with no onions, but keep the pickles, thanks.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t have her any other way. He loved his prickly, guarded, mysterious, strong, funny, practical, sexy, argumentative Kennedy.
He loved her.
His grin felt dopey so he wasn’t terribly surprised to find that Emma was laughing at him.
“God, you two are clueless, you know that?”
Somehow it sounded sweet coming from this adorable charmer. But then her words registered, as did the fact that he was sitting there with Emma rather than Kennedy. “Wait, what’s going on?” he asked. “If Patrick isn’t on his way back, then why is Kennedy acting so weird?”
Emma heaved a sigh that would have made his mother proud. “My guess? My loveable idiot of a friend is in the midst of a panic attack.”
He narrowed his eyes in her direction. “What do you mean? Why?” All kinds of paranoid thoughts started racing through his mind.
She was panicking because she’d realized that he was in love with her. He’d been so obvious. Shit, he’d been swooning all over the girl, she was probably running scared.
Yvette was right, he never did have game, especially when it came to women he liked. When it came to women he loved… well, there’d only been Kennedy and it seemed he had negative amounts of game when it came to her. Was that possible? If so, he’d done it.
He’d come on too strong. He’d scared her off with his neediness and his excitement and now she was throwing her roommate at him to keep him away.
Fuck.
Emma was watching him with a questioning look. “Because she’s in love with you, too.”
He stared at her once more. Pretty soon he was going to be intimately familiar with this poor girl’s face because he couldn’t seem to stop staring. Every word out of her mouth seemed to be spectacularly revelatory.
Either that, or she’d been right about how dumb he was.
Maybe a bit of both.
It took a moment for her words to truly hit home. Kennedy loved him too. His heart leapt wildly in response.
Or so Emma thought. But Emma could be wrong. He thought of Kennedy’s expression when she’d kicked him out… so cold, so distant.
His heart plummeted.
But then… he knew her well enough to know that the more emotional she became, the more she withdrew into herself.
He remembered how to breathe and took a sip of his beer in the hopes that it might help to steady his pulse. He was on some crazy emotional roller coaster and he wanted off. Now, preferably. Despite his best efforts, he could feel his hopes rising, desperately out of control. If Emma was wrong…
He couldn’t even think about how devastating that would be. But if she was right…
Dammit, his hopes were through the roof.
“I’ve got to go talk to her.”
She pointed her finger at him like a gun. “Bingo.”
“Sorry,” he said as he scrambled out of his seat, throwing money onto the bar. “I hate to leave you here and—”
“Seriously? I’ve been eyeing that production assistant since I walked in. Get out of here so I can make a move.”
He glanced up at her in surprise and laughed when she gave him a wink. “Go get your girl, stud.”
He drew in a deep breath as he shrugged on his jacket. Go get your girl.
That was what he aimed to do.
Chapter Fourteen
Kennedy hated to cry. She despised it, really. She went to great lengths to avoid it.
So how had she let this happen?
Curled up on a ball in the middle of her bed, she wept uncontrollably for the first time in years. Her face hurt, her head hurt… but mainly, her chest hurt. Up until today she’d thought that heartbreak was metaphorical.
It wasn’t.
It was an apt description for the feeling that kept recurring in her chest. A splitting, searing pain every time her stupid brain thought about Caleb—the fact that he was currently falling in love with Emma, most likely. Or the look on his face when she’d kicked him out. Or the way he’d made her laugh till her stomach hurt by doing impressions of all the other interns.
God, he was funny. And smart, in his own weird way. And talented, in a way no one could deny.
Was he aimless? Yeah, maybe, but he’d figure it out. She didn’t doubt that. He had too much to offer and if the internship proved anything it was that he had the humility and the work ethic to go after and attain anything he wanted.
Even if what he wanted was Emma.
Another wave of sobs bubbled up and spilled over. Holy shit, crying was painful. It was no wonder she avoided it like the plague. Whoever those weirdos were who voluntarily sobbed their way through tearjerkers, they were clearly masochists.
She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She shouldn’t have come home. This bed had way too many memories of Caleb.
But then that was just another reason why what she’d done today was for the best. She needed to end this before she got any more involved.
Too late, her tired, swollen eyes seemed to say. You’re already in as deep as you can get.
Seriously, how much worse could it get?
Her answer came in the form of a knock at the door. She ignored it. If it was Emma and she’d forgotten her keys again, she’d text. She couldn’t even face her friend right now. She loved Emma to death and wished her nothing but the best in life… but if she and Caleb fell in love?
She wasn’t sure they could ever be friends again.
That thought made her whimper pitifully as she blinked back more tears. Shit, she was pathetic.
No texts dinged on her phone but another knock sounded on the door, louder and more insistent this time.
She could ignore it. Maybe it was Caleb. Her heart soared. But then again, maybe it was Caleb. Fresh tears threatened. She didn’t know if she could keep up the defenses around him, and he was too sweet. Too nice. Once he saw her tears, he’d be impossible to resist. He’d want to cheer her up and coddle her and—
“Kennedy, it’s me,” his voice boomed through her front door. “I know you’re in there. Let me in.”
She found herself getting up and moving toward the door without thought. She’d never heard Caleb raise his voice before and it was shock more than anything that had her scrambling to see what was wrong. Even though she knew what was wrong.
Her.
Them.
Everything.
She swallowed down another pitiful wail as she reached for the knob. Way to think cheerful thoughts there, Kennedy.
Caleb didn’t wait until the door was fully open before he stormed past her, into the apartment and straight toward her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she called after him. “And where’s Emma?”
“Hopefully enjoying a drink with Ken,” he said, spinning around once he reached her room.
“Who’s Ken?” she asked automatically.
“Nice guy from the production department.” He crossed his arms and studied her, taking in her appearance, which she shuddered to imagine. She couldn’t even bring herself to look in the mi
rror over her dresser for fear of what she might find. When she’d come home she’d gone into total comfort mode, pulling on her coziest flannel pajamas, despite the fact that it wasn’t even dark yet, taking her hair out of its pins and letting the tears flow, despite the fact that she was so not a pretty crier. She was probably a swollen, puffy mess.
“God, you are so fucking beautiful.” Somehow he made it sound like an indictment.
He was angry, she realized with a start. She’d never seen him angry. Not really.
Holy shit, it was hot.
He was living, breathing, brooding sex god, glowering at her with those gorgeous eyes.
Who had she been trying to fool? The man was hotter than hot. And a celebrity… sort of. At least he’d used to be. At what point had she allowed herself to believe that he truly wanted her?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter, because she didn’t want him either. They didn’t work. Neither of them fit the bill.
She pressed her lips together. When had she forgotten that?
And more importantly, why was Emma with some guy named Ken? Her hopes were stupid creatures, jumping up and panting at the merest whiff of a future with this guy.
When had this happened? Her inner voice was a pathetic wail. It had been asking the same question over and over since she’d realized the awful truth.
She’d gone and fallen for Caleb. The guy who was temporary for so many reasons. Mainly because he didn’t want her. He would never want her. He’d basically told her so to her face.
“What was that back there?” he asked.
Fuck. Her body was royally turned on by this pissed off Caleb. She shook off the thought and tried to ignore her body’s heated response.
“What was what?” Yeah, that’s right. Play dumb. She’d never played dumb in her life, but apparently now her brain decided to be coy.
Coy was better than pathetic, logic told her.
Maybe that was true but coy did not win her any points with Caleb. He stared at her in disbelief. “Seriously? Are you really going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
She pressed her lips together to avoid answering. Um… yes?
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