This is what I fought for. This is what I risked everything for—making her happy.
When I kiss Kendall, I can taste salt on her lips. When I meet her eyes, there’s something else behind them.Hope.
“I’m so lucky,” she whispers.
I press my forehead to hers. “We both are.”
34
KENDALL
Three days ago, my father caught Patterson and me. Now I’m folding my clothes and placing them into Patterson’s dresser while he watches me from the bed with the sheets pooled around his waist. In this light, he looks like a sculpture. I’m still getting used to being in his space—our space, now that we live together.
“Take the entire drawer, babe,” he says.
“Maybe I will.”
“Wait.” He tilts his head. “Are those red lace thongs?”
“Maybe.”
“Mmm. Please promise you’ll model those for me soon.”
“Oh, absolutely happening. As long as you promise to remove them.”
“Done deal.”
My hands are doing the motions, folding and stacking and organizing, but my brain is glitching out. Randomly, I catch a glimpse of Central Park through the windows and forget where I am. His penthouse drips luxury with its marble countertops and a living room bigger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in. Everything is sleek and masculine with the dark wood andleather. This morning, Patterson cooked me breakfast, and then we hung one of my larger abstract paintings above the mantel. He insisted, then stood back and held me in his arms.
“This is the first time this place has felt like home,” he says, pulling back my attention as if he can read my mind.
I walk over to him and sit on the edge of the bed. “Why did you buy this place?”
He laughs. “Because it was the cool thing to do. Everyone who’s anyone lives in The Park.”
“Billionaires live here, Patterson,” I say, like he doesn’t know.
He’s resting against the headboard and pulls me closer to him. “Babe, I am a billionaire.”
My eyes widen, and I scoot back to look up at him. “Wait, what?”
“Don’t act so shocked, Ken Doll.”
“I–I …”
He laughs like I said something ridiculous. “Babe, my dad was a professional athlete. My parents set up trust funds for each of us before we could walk.”
“So, you …” I trail off, looking around the penthouse.
He literally lives in one of the most expensive buildings in the city.
“Seem normal?” He grins. “Is it because I don’t have a yacht?”
I’m still processing this. “So, the hockey contracts, the endorsements …”
“Not even needed, but all invested. Dyson handles my portfolio.” He shrugs like we’re talking about the weather. “I have more money than you could spend in a lifetime.”
I stare at him.
