Page 116 of A Summer of Stars

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” Kieran commented, putting his cards down and pressing a kiss to my temple. He picked up my purse, allowing me to carry my shock and anger up the elevator to my room.

My ex-husband had been cutting my ties to people since the day he met me.

I sat on the bathroom sink, pulling the rest of my dress up with me, trying to process everything and let it go. Left earring off. Right earring off. I dropped them both on the marble behind me. I leaned forward, catching the strap of my heel.

“Here, let me do it,” Kieran interjected from the bathroom door.

He took his jacket off, throwing it on the bed before taking his place in front of me. It was like the night in the fountain all over again. Down on one knee with his fingertips grazing my ankle. He undid the straps, placing the heels beside each other on the floor. Then he kicked off his own shoes, putting them beside mine like neighboring houses.

“How’s your hand?” He reached for my slightly swollen knuckles.

“It’s fine, just sore. Never punched anyone before.” I laughed.

“Didn’t look like it.” He smiled, impressed. Then his smile settled as he ran his thumb lightly over the back of my hand. “What were you referring to when you asked him if he had got the message?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I hadn’t talked or thought about Jeremiah this much in one day since the day of his interview. “He’s been in denial about how our relationship ended.”

“Seeing as he was responding to your letters when you first met, it sounds like more than denial,” he commented, taking his watch off, his hips between my legs.

“He’s always had a very stubborn personality—doesn’t like to take no for an answer. Voicemails, calls, mail, passing messages on to friends. He made it known he didn’t like my original answer, from the divorce to ignoring him to the new relationship. The first time I had seen him in person since our divorce was in London at your premiere. He tried to convince me to take him back,” I admitted.

Kieran’s jaw ticked. “If I had known he was stalking you, I wouldn’t have let what was happening between us cloud my judgment. You could’ve told me.”

I rested my hand on top of his. I could see all of his unsaid words swimming around in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it. But it’s handled now,” I responded with appreciation.

He flipped my hand over, inspecting all areas of my skin and bone. “Will your hand be too sore for…”

“For the US Open? Of course not. It’s going to take a lot more than a bruised hand to keep me from playing.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I mean, this is the best shape I’ve ever been in. I’ve been training without running myself into the ground, and my sleep is finally back to normal. Statistically, this should be the year I win.”

“That’s great, but I was wondering how you were doing up here.” He tapped my temple.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. Slightly stressed, I guess. There’s always this underlying anxiety when it comes to a home Grand Slam. It’s only built now that I’ve garnered this public losing streak with US Opens. So I’ve been telling myself that this isn’t something I want. That I don’t need to win.” I searched for the necklace’s clasp at the back of my neck, fumbling.

“Was that supposed to be believable?”

I huffed, letting my hands fall without the necklace.

“Why are you so scared to want it?” he asked, his hand snaking under my hair to the chain. He leaned in, trying to see the clasp at the back of my neck. I shuddered, having him this close. I was so used to telling myself that this thing between us wasn’t real. Now it felt sinful to enjoy him being in my orbit. He woke up every tired, sleeping cell in my body. They all rose in his presence. Flowers standing from the soil for their sun.

I took a deep breath in and blew it out like I was smoking a cigar, gaining relief. “Because if I don’t get it, then I’d have to suffer the grief of losing it.”

“But what if you did get it?” I could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. He dropped the necklace beside my thigh.

I shook my head, giving him a look.You don’t understand.

“Do you remember the night we met?” he asked, off topic.

“New York. It was pouring and you jumped forward to grab my purse.” I refrained from telling him how pretty his eyes were under the droplets covering his eyelashes that night.

He looked down at his wrist, undoing his watch. “You had this red dress on, matching heels, and a gold bracelet with charms that twinkled. You looked so gorgeous that I didn’t even realize I wasstaring at you until I was trying to find a way to describe the color of your lipstick. But that actually wasn’t the first night I had seen you. I had been looking at apartments in Greenwich Village a few weeks prior.”

I began tugging my rings off. “That’s funny, that’s where I used to live. Do you have a place there?”

He shook his head. “I was trying to find an apartment for my family so they’d have a larger place to stay whenever they visited—that’s beside the point, though. You were in a paint store on Waverly Place holding this comically large roll of wallpaper.”