He holds out one hand, the other on my suitcase. I take it, making sure we have all our things before heading inside, hand in hand. Then, once I’ve checked us in, we head for the elevator to the floor of rooms my family reserved. Checking the time, I see we’ve missed the rehearsal dinner by a good forty-five minutes, but as much as I want to see my family, jet lag’s catching up pretty quick. And the idea of a king-size bed, taking off my travel clothes, and having Spencer all alone sounds…
I let out an excited breath, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.
…sounds just absolutely perfect.
One more night. To distract my racing pulse, I ask, “What would I even say? If I winged it?”
Spencer shrugs. “That you’re happy for them. I liked the last line, welcoming Charlotte to your family. Add some bullshit about love punching you.”
“Punching. Right. That’s romantic,” I deadpan.
“I don’t fucking know, it’s just something Hart said,” and he rolls his shoulders, looking discomfited. “Does it look like I’ve been to a lot of weddings? Say some sappy crap and be done with it. Steal a line from all those chick flicks you watch.”
Staring at the elevator buttons lighting up with each floor we pass, I smile to myself. Squeezing his hand, I turn to him. Glancing up from under my lashes, I say in a low tone, “You know, I can’t seem to remember any of those. For some reason, I kept missing all the endings.”
He tugs me closer to him. Bending his head over mine, his hand drifts to my butt, lifting me to him. Against my hip, I feel him. How much he wants me.
“Kennedy Fucking Walsh,” his smile presses into my lips. “If you start playing dirty tonight, I’ll have to give you the definition for ‘spanking’.”
I’m about to ask if it can come with a demonstration, when his tongue slips over mine. I moan, pulling him as close as I can get. He braces a leg between both of mine, and I languidly rub my heat over his thigh, making him retreat with a growl, “Twenty-four hours. Not a fucking minute over.”
He kisses me again, just as the elevator reaches our floor. I giggle as he switches to grazing the spot under my ear, grabbing my suitcase handle.
And for the second time that day, I’m caught off guard.
Because when the doors ding open, a feminine voice squeals, “Kennedy?!”
My eyes fly open, and I meet three identical pairs staring in shock back at me.
Brigid, standing between Aileen and Deirdre, covers her mouth, shifting her gaze between me and Spencer. Liplocked. All over each other. In a horrified gasp, she asks, “What about Ashton?”
29
Kennedy
“Can I just reiterate how deeply, incredibly, sorry I am?” I call through the bathroom door as Spencer dresses.
There’s a grunt on the other side. Without seeing his face, I can’t be sure if that’s Spencer speak for ‘It’s okay’, or ‘Whatever’. At least it’s not a ‘Fuck off’ grunt. I definitely know that sound.
I lean against the door, my ears straining for any noise from inside. Spencer’s been quiet all morning. Last night, too, after we’d run into my sisters on their way to the hotel bar outside the elevator. Though I could have probably chalked last night to exhaustion, it hadn’t escaped my notice that after Brigid dropped Ashton’s name, Spencer had been…
Tense feels like it’s putting it too mildly.
Which is completely understandable. Because with the stress of travel, my speech, Summer knowing about us, and not to mention Spencer meeting my family—I’d quite simply forgot to tell my family. About breaking up with Ashton. And bringing someone new to the wedding.
Well, you didn’t forget at first. I cringe at the thought, even though it’s true. I’d had every intention of telling Brigid about my plus one. On my invitation RSVP. When she called to confirm my flight plans. Any number of our conversations in the weeks leading up to now. Yet, during those instances, I pushed the task off. Told myself I’d tell her next time we talked. Only to push it off again when that moment came.
It hadn’t been out of embarrassment over the break up. Not anymore. No, the sole thing holding me back from telling my family about Spencer… had been Spencer.
Because every time I talked to my parents or one of my sisters, a small, hesitant part of me asked, What if he doesn’t go through with it?
What if he reneges on our bet? What if he decides it’s too much waiting? That he’d rather end it with me and go back to one girl, one night? No more wasting time on Kennedy Walsh.
I wring my hands, feeling ashamed of my own doubts. He never gave me any indication he wouldn’t see the bet through. When it’s brought up, he’s always enthusiastic. Teasing me with words about what he’ll do to me when the night comes. And still…
Still, I couldn’t tell them—my family, the most important people to me—about Spencer. Because what if I had? What if I had told them, then he left me, and I showed up to the wedding alone?
Without him.
And the feeling that had consumed me at that thought, of not having Spencer anymore—even more than any embarrassment for being single—had kept my mouth shut. Because for as long I kept quiet, kept it a secret, that meant he was still mine.
For sure, I thought, when Brigid said Ashton’s name, Spencer would end it. Leave me, right in front of my sisters. His whole body went rigid, and I waited for the blow to strike.
Only it never came. Spencer released a deep breath, reached out his hand and simply said, “They broke up. Kennedy’s dating me now. Spencer. Brigid, right?”
Brigid hadn’t looked as scandalized after realizing her baby sister wasn’t cheating on her ex-boyfriend. Spencer then got
