My hand hovers over the button for the fifth floor, but I manage to press the one for the lobby instead. I want to go to Beth and tell her that I just can’t imagine spending another day without Kit. Right now, I feel like that, but I also know how I am. I have a history of things being hot and heavy, much like it was with Joey, only for it to fizzle out and die just as quickly. It’s why I cross the lobby and head toward the parking garage rather than to my best friend’s suite.
Kit and I were fire and gasoline this weekend, but I know it wouldn’t take long for something petty to get on my nerves, and like a flip being switched, I’d be over him. If I started feeling annoyed, it would only be a short while before I’d start to hate him, despising the mere sight of him. Starting anything more with Kit would end the exact same way, and then I’d have to distance myself from him, meaning I’d have to distance myself from the entirety of the Riggs family. I just can’t stomach the thought of that. It’s already going to be weird being around him without going any further. Hating him would make those interactions unbearable.
I feel like the evilest witch that ever walked the earth for what I’ve done, but that doesn’t stop me from pressing my hands to my lower belly and saying a little prayer after climbing inside my car.
Beth would be furious if she found I hooked up with her younger brother, but she’d never speak to me again if she discovered that I’ve been planning what happened this weekend for a while to make sure he got me pregnant.
Chapter 7
Kit
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Brooks shakes his head at my question as we continue to watch Finn and Wren argue in hushed tones by the coffee pot.
“I need another cup of coffee,” Quinten grumbles.
“Wait,” I hiss, holding my hand out to make sure Quinten doesn’t move.
“Think it has anything to do with that woman that showed up with the fake bomb?” Brooks asks.
“Probably,” Quinten mutters. “I recognize that look in his eyes.”
“Anger?” I ask.
“Obsession,” Brooks answers as if he can read Finn so easily.
Wren walks toward his office with a smirk on his face, Finn right on his heels. Our IT specialist manages to get the door closed and locked before Finn can gain entry. The angry Irishman turns with a deep scowl on his face, uncaring that there are four of us sitting on the couch, watching all of this play out.
“Yep,” Jude whispers so Finn can’t hear him. “Obsession.”
The others murmur their agreement.
“What?” Finnegan growls as he glares at us before going across the room to grab his coffee.
“You seem more surly than usual,” Brooks says, the first one brave enough to speak.
“I’m not in the best of moods,” Finn snaps as he sits on the other side of Quinten.
I’m sorry the man is having a hard time, whatever he’s dealing with, but I haven’t stopped smiling since last Thursday night. I don’t imagine there’s much that could wipe the grin from my face.
“Why are you fucking smiling?” the Irishman snaps.
Brooks chuckles beside me, despite the fact I haven’t breathed a word about my weekend to him.
“His wish came true this past weekend,” my best friend says, hitting the target dead-on.
“Weddings are always fun,” Jude says.
“Oh, I bet he had fun,” Brooks adds.
“You don’t know a damn thing,” I say, still unable to drop the smile from my lips.
“I know you disappeared from the rehearsal dinner and the reception,” Brooks discloses. “And funny enough, Jules was absent during those times as well.”
I actually didn’t disappear until after the rehearsal dinner, but it’s not my place to correct what he believes. I am curious exactly how he knows I disappeared Friday evening when he was heading out to the bachelor party with Spencer and the rest of the guys.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So, it’s a mystery why I saw Jules sneaking out of your room yesterday morning?”
Jude and Quinten chuckle, and I have to roll my lips between my teeth to keep from grinning wider.
I haven’t spoken with her since I woke up alone yesterday, so I had no idea she ran into my friend on her way out. She hasn’t responded to the couple of texts I sent her way yesterday or this morning.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I say as my eyes drop back down to the magazine in my lap.
“You don’t have to tell, my friend. We shared a hotel room wall.”
I manage to keep my eyes down, still unsure of what I’m even looking at. What I do know is that my cheeks are starting to heat, and I can’t tell if it’s from mild embarrassment or if I’m starting to get turned on again just with the mention of what happened between Jules and me this weekend.