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“I'm sure I said it back then...but thank you,” I murmured.
“I know you don’t remember it,” he whispered. “I know we’ve made so many mistakes, that we’ve done so many things wrong. But my world begins and ends with you. I love you so much it hurts. I would do anything to prove that to you.”
“I love you,” I answered as he smoothly rolled us over and pushed further into me once again.
We made love again, and I cried.
It finally felt like things were starting to make sense.
13
The next night was going to be my night with Kennedy. I knew I’d have to fight the others for my time with my girl, but I was ready.
But first, we had a fucking family dinner. Even with Greyson.
We really would all do anything for her…and I could tell it made her happy, so I was perfectly content.
It helped that Carter could cook.
In our dining room, the exposed brick walls felt sturdy and cozy. The savory scent of barbecue and charcoaled steak hung in the air. When Kennedy rose from her seat and settled herself into Carter’s lap to kiss his cheek with appreciation for the good meal, I couldn’t even summon any jealousy.
“Man, that was good,” I said, pushing my plate away. There was a collective sense of contentment at the dining table, glasses of whiskey reflecting the soft glow of the pendant lights overhead.
Greyson raised his glass in a silent toast to Carter.
Kennedy, her laughter the most intoxicating sound in the world to me, beamed at all of us, her eyes sparkling with an irrepressible mischief.
“Thanks guys, but who actually did the dishes last time? That’s where you show your gratitude.” Carter said with a grin. Of course he looked happy, when Kennedy was looking at him like that, and she was perched on his leg. He wrapped his arm around her waist, nuzzling his lips against her throat, unable to resist touching her.
It was a rare moment of peace and comfort for all of us.
But of course, Greyson still had to be Greyson.
“Not you, Sebastian?” he asked, faux innocently. “I bet Kennedy would rather have someone who cleans up after themselves, right?”
Kennedy rolled her eyes so dramatically I almost laughed. “That wouldn’t be you, would it, Greyson?” she asked before I could respond to him.
“I don’t live here,” Greyson said. “Speaking of which. We’ll have to talk about that at some point.”
Greyson was obviously not going to be content to have Kennedy here all the time.
She pushed back from the table and stood up, shaking her head as if we were children squabbling over the last piece of candy.
“Put away the ruler, boys. I’m not impressed with any of you,” she teased, tossing the comment over her shoulder as she sauntered off toward the living room, hips swaying in a rhythm that my pulse jumped to meet.
“Hey, I’m coming with you,” Jack called after her, his voice laced with a playful arrogance that always seemed to amuse her. “I know how to impress you!”
“Prove it,” her voice floated back to us, full of teasing.
Jack gave us a grin and ran after her.
“I think we all know how to impress Kennedy.” I frowned.
Carter shrugged and followed them, leaving the dishes on the table.
I sighed and got up. “Help me out here, Greyson. You’re the one who talked us into dish duty.”
Greyson scoffed, but he started to stack the plates, no matter what he’d said.
