Page 6 of The Good Billionaire
Chuckling, Zelda walked away.
“Thanks a lot. Do you know how hard it was to get the wedding planner to meet me here?” Kennedy lowered her head. Her ash blonde hair had fresh streaks of gold like she’d gone to the hairdresser just for the wedding. Or maybe just for me. “Thanks for ambushing me, by the way. I assume you don’t just leave Manhattan to stroll around Brooklyn looking for cookies.”
“For your cookies, I’d leave the planet,” I joked.
It occurred to me, if Cal Sweeney hadn’t been sacked by so many three-hundred-pound linemen, I wouldn’t be there with Kennedy right now. Surely, she’d been slogging along to appointments for the wedding the last couple of months. Tristan had tipped me off this time. Why? The date...
“How was your date last night?” My throat swelled, fearing her eyes would light up.
“Good. Mac always puts out. Keeps me warm and completely fills me.”
I died a bit inside. She’d gotten involved with some asshole named Mac.
“You remember Mac, don’t you?” She taunted me. “My old dinner buddy in med school when I didn’t know how to cook much else.”
Dinner buddy? Back in med school, she’d lived on mac and cheese... “Ah.”
She smiled. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”
Relieved, I said, “So, no date.”
“No date. I’m sorry. I said that to mess with you.”
“Thanks for saying it after the surgery or Cal might have lost the arm.”
“That’s not true. You’re a consummate professional.”
“Don’t tell the AMA, but that would have wrecked me. Did...wreck me. Happy?”
She stared at me, pursing her lips. “No.” After a breath, she said, “So what are you doing here?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, helping me with the wedding plans?”
“I would have if you asked.”
She frowned. “You would have carved out time from your one-hundred-hour work week to help me pick out cocktailnapkins for Savannah when for two years you’d left me at restaurants waiting for you?”
“That’s not fair, Kenna. You tricked me with that question. I guess, no, I wouldn’t have skipped repairing someone’s knee or back or arm to pick out napkins.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“To work?”
“No. I’m off. For a...while.”
My heart stopped. “What do you mean a while, Kenna? What’s up?”
Her breathing hiccupped. “It’s nothing. Just built up lots of time off. I knew last-minute stuff would come up for the wedding.”
I stared and let the silence stretch out while I looked at her. Smelling fresh roasted beans, I said, “How about a cup of coffee and something sweet?”
She smirked, glancing at the baked good case. “Their cupcakes are famous.”
“Chocolate with vanilla cream icing, right?” I remembered her favorite.
“Damn you. I’ll go get a table.”
