Kennedy In Denver (In Denver Series Book 1) (16 page)

“Is it over?”

“Yes it is. I have to tell you, you're a hell of a performer, Kennedy,” Dr. Franklin says.

“Thank you.”

“I came back to talk to you, Kennedy. I know everything that has happened. I was a little upset you didn't reach out to me, but I know you're trying to deal with a lot. I spoke to Easton, Kennedy. He would like to set up some couple therapy sessions.”

“We aren't a couple, we will share custody, and I will be the primary custodial parent. I don't need a dime in support from him, there is nothing to discuss. He pushed me away and put his hands on me aggressively. I gave him another chance; I forgave him. I was then threatened by a lunatic who killed his wife, beat his daughter, abused her and then used her as a sex slave. What did he expect? For me to share my muffin?

I was in complete control the whole time, I didn't black out. I don't have multiple personality disorder, this piece of shit put his evil hands on me and I did to him what he did to his daughter. Did I need to flip the table over and stomp on it, probably not? But you know what - it felt satisfyingly good.”

I pulled out my phone and opened the file with Estelle's pictures.

“This is what I found in the back of my truck that night. She was almost dead. When that monster had the nerve to beg I remembered his daughter’s moans from the back of my truck as she whispered, ‘Please.’ I wanted to hurt him as badly as he hurt her. I'm not unbalanced or unhinged. I just refused to take anyone's bullshit, and I refuse to allow anyone to hurt me or what's mine ever again. And Estelle is mine. She is my best friend and my sister and she has never asked for anything other than my friendship and love. So Easton Kerrigan can go fuck himself with a giant dildo because I could give two fucks less that he wants couple’s therapy.”

“Is that how you really feel?” I heard Easton say from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out of my building. You’re not welcome here!” I yell and then the pain starts and I feel pressure.

“Dr. Franklin, call 911 please, I'm in pain!”

Tristan scoops me up, running towards the exit. The cameras are blinding me. I hear the ambulance.

“Hey, Kennedy, it's going to be okay! Help is coming; everything is going to be fine!” Just then, the ambulance stops, and the EMTs rush out. “She is five months pregnant! She is having triplets; she got upset and started having pain!”

“Tristan, please don't leave me!” He lays me down on the gurney and Easton is pushing his way through.

“I'm going with her!” Easton yells.

“No, you're not! This is your fault! This whole fucking mess is your fault!” Tristan is yelling and turning red with rage.

Easton pushes Tristan; the EMT slams the door shut leaving them both. I'm rushed to labor and delivery, it’s too early my babies won't survive! My water didn't break so they were able to stop the labor, but I was on bed rest until it was safe to deliver them. Since the doctor didn't trust me to stay in bed, I was stuck in the hospital for the next eight weeks at least.

I'm nervous, today is my wedding day. I know without a doubt that Kennedy is the one.

“Son, I think you're making a mistake. Kennedy needs help and you are rushing to marry her because of your babies.”

“No dad, I'm rushing to marry her because she is the love of my life and the mother of my children! I love Kennedy, Dad and I am going to help her. Please be happy for me, trust me!”

My dad leaves the room and Liam comes in.

“It’s time!” he lets me know

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?” I ask him.

He sits down, “I think what I saw at the bakery was scary. I know she wouldn't hurt anyone she loved, but as a parent I can tell you, having all of the information, not just what was packaged at the press conference, I don't feel comfortable having my kids around her. She isn't the Kennedy we have come to love when she blacks out like that, and I won't take a risk with my kids’ safety. I think you're rushing to marry her because of the babies, not taking into consideration that she needs to address these blackouts. I will stand by you no matter what.”

I take my place in front of the gazebo, Governor DeWitt shakes my hand and I feel my chest constrict. I hear the music start. and I know that Kennedy will be walking down the aisle any minute. She looks amazing; her red hair falls in soft curls down her back, she has flowers in her hair that match the bottom of the dress. Half way down the aisle, I realize that, as much as I love Kennedy, she needs more than I can give her. She smiles at me and I start walking forward to meet her.

“Kennedy, I'm sorry, I can't marry you, today.” I brace for the rage, but nothing comes. “Kennedy, you mean everything to me, but you aren't well. You need help.”

She still doesn't say anything but I can feel the rage coming off her father. The guests are confused; my mom comes and stands beside me.

“What's going on, Kennedy?” my mom asks her.

“Your son just informed me that he isn't marrying me today. He says I'm not well I’m not sure what he means, I don’t understand; it doesn’t matter I just need to get out of here.”

She hands her flower bouquet to Estelle. I know it's coming, but she doesn’t attack me. She smiles, leans in and kisses me on the cheek. Slipping the ring off her finger, she places it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

“Goodbye, Easton.” 

Her mom comes up and slaps the shit out of me; Kennedy just turns and walks back towards the estate with Stacy and Estelle following behind her. I don't brace myself for the punch Tristan delivers; I deserve it. Tristan rushes to the estate. I get up off the floor, sitting on the chair. Then Mr. Brennan finally speaks,

“We will have our lawyers contact you in regards to any custody issues. I want you and everyone in your family to stay away from my daughter. Do I make myself clear?”

No one speaks, he steps forward and my dad speaks. “Yes, you were clear.”

The Brennan’s head towards the estate. All of Kennedy's guests leave, no one says a word, but the look on the Governor's face has told me everything I need to know. My mother is trying to find out what happened I just sit in the chair and try to think, did I do the right thing? Everyone leaves and I just sit there for thirty minutes, until I realized I didn’t do the right thing.

What the fuck have I done? As I raced to the estate but Kennedy is long gone. I run for my car, heading towards the penthouse the minute I walk in I know she is gone. I see the keys, the new phone I just got her and a note. I walk to the table, whatever the note says isn't going to be good. I lift the paper and it's just a phone number with a name, Paul Spector, and the word Lawyer next to it.

“Fuck!” I yell.

Throwing everything off the table to the floor. I just start destroying everything, I flip over furniture, and I crash every piece of glass. I'm in a blind rage, why the fuck did I let my dad and Liam get in my head? Why the fuck did I just destroy my family? Why? Why? Why? I'm so fucking stupid! Estelle! She should be down at Rhydian's, I can fix this! As I make it to the door I hear arguing from inside, I see my brother trying to block Estelle's way. She has her suitcases behind her. When she sees me, I see a look of total fucking disgust on her face. If she had a gun, I would be dead.

“Estelle do you know where Kennedy went?”

She doesn't say anything, just pushes past my brother and walks out the door. I follow her to the elevator.

“Please, Estelle, I love her! I made a fucking terrible mistake! Please, I want my family!”

She steps into the elevator and doesn't even bother turning around. She faces the back of the elevator, keeping her back to me never saying a word. I walk back to Rhydian's place and see him sitting on the sofa nursing a beer. He doesn't speak to me either. Soon he gets up, walks to his bedroom and closes the door.

I walk into the penthouse and Liam and my dad are picking up the furniture and sweeping up glass.

Liam looks up, “Easton.”

I shake my head, I've heard enough bullshit out of his mouth for a lifetime. I might as well die; my life is over. I've lost the only woman I ever loved because I'm a fucking coward. The Governor has probably already destroyed my business in a matter of hours, and I'm pretty sure I just became the devil himself in the press. But, the worst thing is, I'm never going to have the relationship with my kids that I had with my parents because Kennedy will never fucking forgive me, and we will never raise our kids together. I look for Kennedy for the next two weeks. Reed won't help me, when I called he told me he hoped I never found her or my kids, that I didn't deserve them and not to call him again.

Kennedy's parents won't return my calls; they are living at the house Tristan bought.  Estelle won't speak to anyone in my family, not even Rose, after she told my mom none of the Kerrigan’s were welcome at the grand opening of the Conservatory. Michael and Stacy haven't said a word to me since the wedding, and Killian has gone back to not talking. Getting to the office, I am bombarded by hate mail, both in regular mail and email. My secretary, who was once friendly and nice, responds to my questions with one word or sometime just a grunt.

As one online headline read, ‘From Golden Boy to The Denver Devil’ the story went on to list how I had pursued Kennedy relentlessly, almost to the stalker level. Wooed her and lost her, then set my sights on getting her back, only to get her pregnant. I then surprised her with a wedding she didn't even want, to have jilted her at the altar in front of her family and friends. There was video of her shopping for lingerie, the store clerk comments on how nervous Kennedy was because it was going to be her first time. The clerk went on to say how sweet and innocent Kennedy seemed unsure of what was sexy. My mind went back to the day in her apartment her in the lavender and black bra and panties with the garter and stockings. The story went on to say how she didn't find out about the wedding until she arrived at the spa. The hairdresser was quoted as saying Kennedy was getting excited about the surprise wedding. And then the video of the wedding; I didn't think to get the videographer to sign anything since it was a rush. He had edited the video together nicely, showing Kennedy getting ready and her dad coming to get her, and then it cut to my conversation with my dad and the conversation with Liam. It showed Kennedy, looking beautiful and happy, walking down the aisle. Then it zooms in to me telling her I can't marry her and her slipping the ring off, kissing my cheek and leaving.

People’s comments on the video ranged from, I hope you burn in hell for what you did to her, or, if she were really crazy, your ass would be dead because she had every right to kill you. At Kennedy's expense, she became the joke of late night comedians and the topic of conversation on Good Morning America, The View the talk show Entertainment Tonight. Celebrities tweeted their support, a Facebook hate group was formed about me, and everyone pretty much thought I was the world’s most fucked up person.

My parents were snubbed at events, my sister-in-law had lost multiple bids for interior design jobs, and Liam’s consulting business was seeing a decline. Killian was the only one not affected in his graphic design business, but Michael and Stacy were getting no love in the Denver area.

The Governor was smart, he didn't attack my business, he does what politicians do best; he destroyed me with public opinion. He didn't have to lift a finger, a few whispers in the right ear and a leaked edited for quick viewing video, and the Kerrigan’s are America's most hated family. In all of this the Brennan’s and Kennedy remain humble, kind and classy, never bad mouthing anyone, just releasing a statement that she wished me and my family the best. One more nail in the ‘we hope Easton Kerrigan dies coffin’. I reached out to Dr. Franklin, who was not as impartial as I would hope he would be. I told him I wanted to fix my relationship and wanted to get couples counseling to which his reply was,

“Listening to your brother and your father brutally criticizing your fiancé, without so much as saying one word in her defense. Then publicly humiliating her by meeting her half way up the aisle  to say ‘Hey, you're crazy, I don't want to marry you!’ is past couple’s counseling, and truth be told, I don't think you’re what's best for Kennedy. If I was going to put my money on any horse, it would Tristan Cooper.”

He then hung up on me, the sting of hearing Kennedy and Tristan's names together as a couple made me sick to my stomach. I had to see her! I have to see her! I have to get her back! I needed her and my kids! I need my family! My secretary walks in with the suit I was going to wear for tonight's Open House.

“I'm not going tonight!”

“Yes, you are! You're going to be my plus one.”

“Kennedy has uninvited my entire family, I'm pretty sure I'm on some kind of list.”

“Yes, you are,” she says. “But my husband is unable to attend, and as much as I hate your fucking guts right now and every day I think about quitting, my husband thinks you're just a stupid idiot who got cold feet and a case of nerves and bad advice. He has convinced me to take pity on you, and at least give you the chance to see Kennedy. Beg, cry, do whatever you have to do. I've been your secretary for eight years, I used to consider us friends, but what you did to Kennedy Brennan after everything she has survived makes you the lowest of the low, and I hope she doesn't take you back. I think her and Tristan Cooper make a lovely couple. My address is on the invitation don't be late. I'm going home early.”

Felicia Graham has never said so much as a coarse word to me before today. She was twelve years older than me at forty-two. She had come to me eight years ago as a temp; she wasn't looking for anything permanent. When she was going to leave, I realized I couldn't function without her. She was an excellent secretary. I had met her husband at a few parties. She was plain, not unattractive, just plain; her husband seemed mild-mannered and polite. Together they were a nondescript couple. Getting ready, I drove to the address that was in a very wealthy neighborhood. I had no idea what I was paying Felicia, but I knew it wasn't enough to afford this. I don't think her husband has a high-level job, because I would know him in Denver. Pulling up to the Spanish-style mansion, I get out and ring the doorbell. Deacon Graham comes to the door in a tailored suit; he looks completely different than I remember. He isn't wearing his glasses and he seems taller and more muscular. He looks like James Bond.

“Hello,” I say. “I'm here to pick up Felicia for the Grand Opening.”

“Of course, she will be right down.”

Felicia comes down and I'm struck dumb. Felicia is a serious stunner; she is wearing a black gown that hugs curves I didn't even know she had. She gives Deacon a kiss.

“I'll meet you there in an hour. Let me get him in the door and make sure he doesn't get kicked out before he even gets to talk to the girl.”

She walks out and Deacon slaps her on the ass. She turns around and says, “Later.”

I am once again struck dumb. Have I slipped into some alternate dimension? We get into the limo and I ask Felicia what Deacon does for a living. She laughs,

“Deacon is a rocket scientist.”

“Really, I didn't think rocket scientists made a lot of money. I guess I was ignorant.”

“No, you're right. He only makes about one hundred and twenty thousand a year so now you're wondering how the hell we live in a giant mansion in Denver's most exclusive neighborhood, and I'm only your lowly secretary making eighty thousand a year.”

I'm drinking my scotch when she says, “I am a writer. I make excellent money. I'm a secretary because I need something to do during the day. I have written a handful of New York Times best sellers.”

“Have you written anything I might have read?”

She keeps a straight face, “I write Contemporary Romance.”

“Like the books with pirates and busty barmaids?” She rolls her eyes.

“No, not like that!” I take another sip, “And Deacon and I own the four largest sex clubs in the Midwest.”

I spit my drink out all over the place. I look at her and she is busy wiping scotch off her arm. “You own sex clubs?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Deacon is one of the most sought after Dominants and I'm the most sought after Domme in the United States. Those long weekends I take, I hold workshops and demonstrations at different clubs all over the U.S.”

“How did I not know this about you?