Kira’s POV
After Gabriel brought water for Olivia and she drank, I noticed the color slowly returning to her face, and I felt seriously worried for her. I was clearly in the dark about what was going on, and I desperately needed answers.
This was the kind of tea I would kill for. The kind I’ll cross seven seas to go hear. So I bidded my ti, waiting for when I’ll finally get her alone and extract all the answers from her.
But just then, I felt eyes on .
I glanced up and found Kennedy staring at from across the table.
My face imdiately heated, and I looked away quickly. Is he thinking about the SpongeBob underwear? Or the fact that I basically tried to assault him this morning?
But when I peeked back, he was still staring. Intensely. Like he was trying to communicate sothing.
What? I mouthed, trying to be subtle.
He pointed - very discreetly - at the imposter sitting beside Maxwell.
I frowned, mouthing back: What about him?
Kennedy pointed again, more insistently, then mouthed sothing that looked like "your boyfriend."
What?
He pointed to his phone, then made a typing gesture.
I pulled out my phone and found a text from him already waiting. When had he even gotten my number?
Kennedy: Why aren’t you sitting with your boyfriend?
I looked up at him, then at the imposter, and that’s when it hit like a bomb.
Oh God. The fake Oliver is supposed to be my boyfriend now.
Everyone thought this imposter was Oliver. My Oliver. The man I’d supposedly been dating. The reason I’d climbed Maxwell’s gate and demanded his release.
Hell no.
There was absolutely no way I was playing lovey-dovey with so stranger who’d scamd Maxwell into believing he was his assistant. So random person who might be a criminal or a psycho or...
I typed back furiously: We had a little argunt.
Kennedy: When? We have been together all morning. In the car. At the house. When exactly did you two argue?
Oh my God, why is he pushing this?
I glared at him across the table, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation.
Fine. If he wanted to push, I’d push back.
"So, Kennedy," I said loudly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the table - the only sound had been silverware clinking against plates, and the sounds of everyone eating. "Will your wife be visiting anyti soon? It’s been ages since we’ve all seen Phoebe."
Every head at the table turned toward Kennedy, and I watched his expression shift into sothing guarded.
"No," he said simply.
"Oh? Why not?" I pressed, knowing I was being a bit of a bitch but unable to stop myself.
Kennedy set down his fork calmly, "Phoebe and I are divorced."
What.
"Divorced?" Olivia’s voice cracked with shock, her earlier distress montarily forgotten. "Ken, when did this happen? Why didn’t you tell ?"
I stilled in my seat, my entire body frozen by this news.
Divorced. Kennedy is divorced.
"It’s been finalized for about three months now," Kennedy explained, "Phoebe was struggling with our fertility issues. The treatnts weren’t working, and she fell into a deep depression. Eventually, she decided she couldn’t stay in the marriage anymore. She needed a fresh start."
"I’m so sorry, man," Maxwell said quietly, reaching over to pat Kennedy’s shoulder.
"That’s rough," Gabriel added with genuine sympathy.
Mrs. Hopton nodded, her expression sad but accepting. "We were heartbroken when we heard the news, but we respect your decision to let her go. Sotis love isn’t enough."
"What’s next for you now?" Olivia asked gently, her earlier tension with Maxwell montarily set aside for her brother’s pain.
Kennedy’s eyes found mine across the table, and sothing in his gaze made my breath catch.
"I’m not sure yet," he said slowly. "Just open to possibilities."
The way he said "possibilities" while looking directly at made heat flood through my entire body.
Is he... does he an...?
I finally found my voice, though it ca out smaller than I intended. "The separation must have broken you."
Kennedy’s expression softened. "Actually, it didn’t. Love was lost in our marriage a long ti ago. We were just struggling to make sothing work that was already dead. The divorce was more of a relief than anything."
My mind was spinning, trying to process this information, when suddenly I rembered his words from yesterday.
"Then why did you lie yesterday?" I blurted out.
Kennedy tilted his head. "About what?"
"When I asked about your wife. You said she was well and that she couldn’t make it here."
"I didn’t lie," Kennedy said calmly. "Technically, she is well. And she does have an engagent in London she couldn’t get out of."
"What kind of engagent?" The question burst out before I could stop it.
Kennedy’s lips curved into a smile. "She’s getting married. To soone else. Soone she fell in love with during the separation."
WHAT?!
My hands clenched in my lap. Why didn’t he explain all of this from the very beginning? Why?
If I’d known yesterday - if I’d known this morning when we were alone in that bedroom - I could have kissed him. Should have kissed him. We’d been so close. His face inches from mine, his body hovering over , his voice asking if I wanted his lips on mine.
And I’d run away because I thought he was married.
You idiot, Kira.
But now I knew. Now I knew he was free. Single. Available.
And I was absolutely, definitely getting that kiss.
Maybe in the car on the way ho. Maybe sowhere private where I could finally, finally taste those lips I’d been dreaming about since college.
Just one kiss, I promised myself. Because technically, you’re still dating Eddy. One kiss won’t hurt. Just to get it out of your system. And to hell with dating Oliver too.
But who was I kidding? One kiss with Kennedy Hopton would never be enough.
But it would be a start.
I didn’t realize I’d been staring at his mouth - actually staring, my own lip caught between my teeth as I imagined what he’d taste like - until I dragged my eyes up and found him watching .
He was smiling.
Not a polite smile. Not a friendly smile.
A devilish, knowing smile that said he knew exactly what I was thinking about.
Oh God.
My face went supernova, and I quickly looked down at my plate, suddenly very interested in my food.
Pull yourself together, Kira. You’re at a family lunch. With his parents. And your best friend. And multiple other people.
But all I could think about was getting back in that car with Kennedy. Being alone with him. Finally closing the distance between us and...
"Kira?" Mrs. Hopton’s voice cut through my unholy thoughts. "Would you like so more wine, dear? You look a bit flushed."
"I’m fine!" I squeaked, then cleared my throat and tried again in a more normal voice. "I an, yes, please. Wine would be great."
Across the table, Kennedy’s smile widened, and I watched his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip.
He’s doing this on purpose. The bastard.
But two could play that ga.
I picked up my wine glass when Mrs. Hopton filled it and took a slow sip, making sure Kennedy was watching. Then I ran my tongue across my own lips, catching a drop of wine that had lingered there.
Kennedy’s fork clattered against his plate.
Checkmate.
The lunch continued around us, conversations flowing as people ate and talked and pretended not to notice the various tensions crackling through the room.
Mr. and Mrs. Hopton were speaking in hushed tones at the head of the table, probably discussing Kennedy’s divorce and what it ant for the family.
Olivia was talking to Gabriel, but even I could see it was forced. She was trying to maintain a polite conversation while her eyes kept darting to Maxwell.
The imposter - fake Oliver - was listening attentively to whatever Maxwell was saying, nodding at appropriate monts, playing the role of devoted assistant.
But Maxwell wasn’t really talking to the imposter. His eyes were trained on Olivia, tracking her every movent, every expression, every breath she took.
What the hell is going on with those two?
I’d never seen Olivia this torn up about soone. Even when she’d been pining after Alex, it hadn’t looked like this. Hadn’t felt this raw and painful and complicated.
And Maxwell looked like a man who had a lot going on with him.
There’s history here. Real history. Not just the "I knew your family" kind of history.
But what? What could it be? Maxwell had always hated Olivia - that wasn’t even a secret judging from the way he’d always treated her. So what was this charged tension sizzling between them.
Just then, Olivia stood up abruptly from the table.
"Excuse ," she said, her voice tight. "I need so air."
She walked toward the back door that led to the garden, her movents stiff and controlled.
Maxwell imdiately pushed back his chair and followed her out.
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