Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

“Grief seems like a privilege, in a way,” she says. “To have loved someone so much that you can’t imagine life without them. I’ve never felt that.”

“When I’m what, Kennedy?” His voice is loud and angry. “When I’m constantly thinking about you? When I’m trying my best just to get you to notice me? Or when I’m too busy not touching other women. Because I haven’t laid a finger on anyone other than you. Not once. And not just since we got married. I haven’t even looked at another woman since the day I found out you ended your engagement. I would’ve waited for you since the day I met you had I known you weren’t in love with your fiancé. For years, I thought you were happy with someone else. But I only found out ten months ago, Ken. For the last ten months, I thought I might have a real shot, so I’ve tried my fucking best. I’ve waited for you to see me, and I’d wait the rest of my life if I thought I ever had a real chance with you, but I don’t. Do I? Never have.”

“I remember every single thing about you, Kenny. In case you haven’t figured it out already, you’re my favorite subject to study.”

“I don’t care what your last name was, Kenny. I only care what it is now.”

How lucky am I that I get to love and be loved so effortlessly?