Play Along (Windy City, #4)

by Liz Tomforde

Those two little words stop me in my tracks. My name. She sounds good saying my name.

“So, who is she?” On this day, where everything feels like a sign, I don’t hesitate when I say, “My future wife.”

“Have I told you lately how much I dislike you?” “Mmm,” he hums. “I should warn you, Ken, I like it when you’re mean. It does something to me.” “So that’s why you haven’t left me alone all these years? I should’ve been nice to you all this time, I guess.” “I probably would’ve proposed a handful of times by now if you were. Nice. Mean. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

“California, huh? Did you know that’s my least favorite place?” “And when did you decide that?” “About two minutes ago.”

“I finally married the girl I’ve been obsessed with for years.” Obsessed is a weird word too. I’m obsessed with how soft this pillow is. My new shoes are so cute. Isaiah is so cute too. I’ll never tell him that.

“Just think of this as one big game.” His tone is low and deep when he leans down to my ear and whispers, “C’mon wife. Play along.”

Kennedy hangs up the phone just as another flash of lightning illuminates the sky. It’s only then I realize that I kind of forgot about the storm for a bit.

Our wedding song is on full blast as Isaiah makes his way to the plate, but before he gets there, he turns back in my direction. With the entire stadium singing the song I walked down the aisle to, Isaiah extends his bat, points at me, and winks. He fucking winks. It’s the moment reality hits me… Miller was right. I think I might have a crush on my husband.

Call it irrational all you want. I know it’s not logical. Anxiety doesn’t produce rational thoughts. It creates worst-case scenarios and acknowledging that still doesn’t change the fact that anxiety takes over my entire body and mind, making me unable to focus on anything else.

“Fuck, Ken,” I exhale. “I missed you.” She pulls back to look at me, sopping wet hair glued to her face, brows narrowed in confusion. I halt in my steps. “What?” “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be missed.”

There are not enough words to describe how much I hate that. That she has felt so disregarded by a select few that she doesn’t believe anyone in their right mind would miss her. Could miss her.

If only she understood just how desperately I longed for her while she was gone. Fuck, I longed for her when she was still here. I haven’t stopped craving this woman since the day I met her in the bath...

“Isaiah?” “Yeah?” “I missed you too.” And I swear to God I’m living in an alternate reality because in what world do I get to hear that Kennedy Kay missed me.

Don’t even get me started on the fact he never helped her, never let her learn or explore or try. He never took the time to reiterate that she’s wanted and worthy. He did, however, continually remind her that she was reluctant towards intimacy, and now I’m learning that he let this woman—who I view as the most perfect one in the world—believe that she wasn’t.

That right there is another first. Having someone across the room looking for me, checking on me. It seems like such a simple act, but it’s something I’ve always wished for and didn’t think I’d 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.”

“But you don’t, Rhodes. I don’t know what she’s told you about growing up the way she did, but I had to sit back and watch it all. In the early years, when our parents first arranged for her to marry Connor, she used to cry herself to sleep at night. I’d hear it through my bedroom wall, then each morning, she’d act as if nothing happened. Once we got close enough, she finally admitted how unhappy she was, but in the same breath would also say she didn’t know what happiness even felt like. How fucked up is that?”

“Sorry about that.” It’s my automatic response whenever I feel like I’m making someone’s life more difficult than it needs to be.

“I love you,” I tell him, using the same words he found written on the signature line of our divorce papers. “It may have taken me a bit longer to allow myself to open my eyes and see it, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I love you. Every part of you. The parts you show everyone and the parts you show only me.”

“I never had to beg for your attention, and I’m not sure you’ll ever fully understand how safe that became for me, knowing you were giving it to me willingly. I never had to ask you to see me, to understand me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t allowed you to be able to say the same. But I promise you, Isaiah, now that my eyes have been opened, I can’t keep them off you.”

I squeeze her hand in mine. “I can’t wait to marry you…again.” She squeezes right back. “I love you.” “I love you. I’ll see you there?” “I’ll be the one in white.” “Wow. Okay, maybe throw out a spoiler alert next time.” She chuckles. “There won’t be a next time. This one is forever.”

If I thought deeper into it, I could probably give a few hundred reasons as to why I’m not good enough to have this moment, but I’m a selfish man.