#convo3

And while people walked in and out of the building, carrying things inside and putting them into position, she felt as if her mind was stuck in a haze. Ever since the reality of Dorian getting married smacked her across the face, she held on to the hope that it was just a nightmore. A bubble that would burst and she’d realize it was all just a mistake. They promised each other to part ways. Live seperate lives because it would be for the better. And while Nina still tried to puzzle herself back together, the man had already carried an engagement ring inside his pocket. A ring that has been present even during the last night they had spent together.

So instead of moving on, she got dragged to plan the man’s introduction to his future and saw everything she’d never get. She met his bride-to-be, his family and had to ask him to write his vows while planning his honeymoon. All of this could’ve easily broken her and it almost did an uncountable amount of times. But at some time, she removed herself and became a robot who only focused on her job. It made things easier but sometimes she cracked. There were moments when the waves hit her and she struggled to comprehend the full extent of her own emotions.

This was one of the moments. When she crossed the room to go talk to him with her heart slipping to her throat. “Good morning.” She handed him a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. “Good news, last signature I need from you. Celene signed it yesterday in the meeting with my mo - with Mrs Belair. It’s the insurance agreement on this location. The company will come up for any damage that might come up but that’s already been discussed. Right now all that’s left are details. So if there’s anything you want, well, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

It was 3:30 in the afternoon and Micah would be home soon, after another long day of searching through town for any possible open job for him or Kennedy. It had been nearly four weeks since the morning they had woken up in the small, beat up car from Sugarland, Texas filled with way too much money and far too little clothes. They had decided to take a couple of weeks to settle down, buy what they needed for the apartment and plant their roots quickly before searching for jobs. They money from the casino was still plentiful and could carry them for quite some time, truth be told. But Kennedy and Micah had been raised to save and never take a penny for granted.

Oh, gosh…that casserole from last night does not seem to be sitting well…

Kennedy Kapernick. Wait, Kennedy Wolkow, was fighting back the urge to vomit as she wavered slowly in front of the toilet bowl.

Come on, Ken, come on. Don’t do it…don’t – oh, too late.

Just a second later, she was clutching her hair behind her head with one hand and resting her hand on her forehead as she choked on the vomit that was escaping her mouth. She quickly tied her hair up with a ponytail and lowered her free hand to her thigh.

Oh…

“Oh, goodness…this is…” And again, chunks landed in the toilet and splashed small droplets into her face. For a brief second, the thought that it wasn’t the casserole crossed her mind but for heaven’s sake, there were chunks of it in the toilet! Of course it was the casserole.

Micah was going to be home soon…and if he found her like this, regardless of the reason, he would feel responsible. Kennedy pushed herself up onto her knees but immediately regretted it as she lost control of herself and disposed of more vomit in the toilet.

This has to be the casserole.

“Shit…” she muttered, automatically cowering behind the toilet for cussing like that. Her hair was falling from the bun she had haphazardly thrown together moments ago and her brow was slick with sweat.

She felt the urge to bolt up when she heard the heavy front door of their small apartment close but she was unable to. She felt defeated. And she knew. She knew.

The waitress waved them to the nearest padded booth and smiled warmly at them. Kennedy slid into the booth and waited for Micah. “What can I get cha, dolls?” Kennedy shifted in her seat as she looked at Micah. Talking was still not in the cards for her and he would know what to get her. She had never been much of an eater when she was hung-over and today was no different. Just the smell from the grease in the back was making her queasy. 

She bit back a gag and lowered her head to regain her composure and the waitress glanced toward Micah, hoping for an answer.

I’ve already forgiven you.

Y este chico no es Joey. Quiero a mi Joey.