Page 92 of Insta Bride
We drove home in silence. I was too exhausted to speak, and too confused at his response. Not until we pulled into the car space under our building, did Kye speak.
“I didn’t understand, before.” He looked straight ahead at the concrete wall before pausing. I gave him space to collect his thoughts and continue. Every relationship had moments. We’d had one on the island when I tore into Campbell and Kye decided not to chase every female in sight. We had another when he made me believe he wanted to get married, to me. This? I didn’t know how we got here, but I wanted to listen.
“I didn’t understand until I saw how much you threw into each punch, how much all that photo bullshit got to you. I thought you could brush it off. I mean, they’re photos of me. It’s my privacy being invaded, not yours. It’s my life being trashed, but now I get it.”
“What?” I reached over and extracted one of his fists from being clenched around the steering wheel. I hadn’t thought of how Kye felt, until now. His social media profile used to be his badge of honor. The more women, the safer he had been from being tied down. After all, the women knew his reputation. Now?
Since the island, Kye had acted like a married man. “Kye, talk to me, what do you get.”
“It’s not just me anymore. It’s our marriage.”
“Yep, I guess it is.”
“Wait for me,” Olivia demanded from her kitchen the next night. “If you press play without me, I swear I’ll go online and pull up all the spoilers.”
“How many spoilers can there be?” I responded by helping Olivia bring out bowls of red jelly, crushed pavlova, custard and fruit salad. All the makings of Eton Mess—our version had lashings of Cointreau—with chilled glasses for our Moscato. My girls knew how to party, even if it was going to be a pity party while I watched my competition talk up their relationship—and trash mine.
“Ready?” Tash had snatched the remote control in our absence. “Are we doing shots?”
“You can’t do shots with Moscato.”
“That’s why I’ve repurposed a bottle of Hunter’s favorite scotch—don’t look at me like that, Liv,” Tash warned while setting up four shot glasses. “This is for a good cause. I vote for a shot every time Kenzie flicks her hair.”
“A shot for every time she says she’s found her soulmate.”
“A shot for every time Benjamin flexes his biceps or talks about how much he’s lifting.” Liv said, “And I’ll shout a round of drinks on the weekend after Hunter smashes Benjamin’s record out of the park.”
“Hunter lifting weights now?”
“Yeah, Kye’s got him going to the gym some nights, but he’s also set up our spare bedroom as a weights room.”
“Stress reducing?”
“Doctors say we need to stop concentrating on making babies and get back to the fun of making babies.”
“Oh, babe, it will happen.” I hugged my friend, who needed her monthly supply of chocolate, stat. “And when it does, you’ll make the cutest babies in the world.”
“Well, it’s not about me tonight,” Liv plonked down on the lounge and filled her bowl high with her dessert. “This is about my girl Elena and being able to sit back and trash talk the Kenzie and Benjamin show.”
I wanted to hide.
I wanted to hide away from my family, my friends and the rest of the world.
“You both spent a lot of time with Elena and Kye.” Danielle Stone’s interview style never bothered me, before. She’d always appeared genuinely interested in the answers. “Did you think they’d make it to the end of the competition?”
“I didn’t think Kye would make it past the first elimination. I mean, he’s a player,” Kenzie squeezed Benjamin’s arm before continuing. “He had the major flirt happening with all the girls during auditions—except for Elena. She was such a timid and boring mouse, I guess he never noticed her.”
“She wasn’t that boring.” Benjamin interrupted. “We’d talked some, she just wasn’t out there.”
“When did you know they were serious?” Danielle prodded.
Kenzie laughed, “We’ll know thirty seconds after the competition ends, the money is awarded and we don’t see Kye for dust. I bet he’s already got a divorce lawyer on retainer and one hundred women lined up for the first hundred days as a single man.”
“What about you, Benjamin. Do you share the same low expectations as your wife?”
Benjamin, at least, had the good grace to look sheepish. “I don’t think anyone knows what truly goes on in a marriage. I’d rather focus on the wonderful woman who’s my wife than worry about how Elena will pull her life together after Kye leaves.”
“He’s spoken to you?”