Chapter 109 One Hundred And Nine
The city looked different at night from Kennedy’s office window.
Colder.
Sharper.
Less forgiving.
He stood there long after his staff had left, jacket draped over the back of his chair, tie loosened, one hand resting against the cool glass as he stared at the city through the window.
Antonia and the baby were only fifteen minutes away.
Fifteen minutes.
He could get in his car right now. He could knock on her door. He could see his son before bed.
The fact that he didn’t terrified him more than the distance ever had.
Because the distance wasn’t physical.
It was emotional.
And it was entirely his own making.
The soft knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts.
“Still brooding?” Nelson’s familiar voice drifted in before Kennedy even turned around.
Kennedy exhaled slowly. “Come in.”
Nelson stepped inside without ceremony, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the leather sofa like he owned the place.
“You look like a man contemplating either a merger or a meltdown,” Nelson said lightly.
Kennedy gave a faint smirk. “It’s neither.”
Nelson studied him more closely now. “It’s her.”
It wasn’t a question.
Kennedy didn’t deny it.
He moved back to his desk and sat down heavily, rubbing a hand across his jaw.
“And the baby,” he added quietly.
Nelson sat opposite him. “You’ve been different since they moved here.”
“I know.”
“Different how?” Nelson pressed.
Kennedy leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering.
“Unsettled.”
“That doesn’t sound entirely bad.”
“It is when you’re used to control.”
Nelson’s eyes sharpened slightly. “Ah. There it is.”
Kennedy’s jaw tightened.
“She hid my child from me, Nelson.”
The words came out low. Controlled. But underneath was something jagged.
“I know,” Nelson replied calmly.
“I missed months.” Kennedy’s voice thickened slightly despite his attempt to remain composed. “Doctor appointments. The first kick. The first time she heard his heartbeat. She made me think another man was the father.”
Nelson didn’t interrupt.
Kennedy swallowed hard.
“I can’t get that back.”
“No,” Nelson agreed gently. “You can’t.”
Silence filled the office.
“But I can’t ignore why she did it either,” Kennedy continued. “She was afraid.”
“Of you?”
Kennedy hesitated.
“Of being unwanted.”
Nelson tilted his head. “And did you give her reason to feel that way?”
Kennedy’s eyes flashed briefly.
“I ended things.”
“Yes.”
“Because it was getting too real.”
Nelson raised an eyebrow. “So you admit that.”
Kennedy sighed.
“It stopped feeling temporary,” he said. “It stopped feeling controlled.”
“And that scared you.”
Kennedy didn’t answer.
Because it did.
He stood again, restless, pacing toward the bookshelf and back.
“I’ve already been betrayed by someone I loved,” he said finally.
The air shifted.
Nelson’s expression softened.
Ruth.
“You’re not Ruth,” Nelson said quietly, as if correcting the air itself.
Kennedy’s mouth tightened.
“Ruth didn’t just cheat,” he said. “She lied. For months. Smiled in my face while planning a life that didn’t include me.”
The memory still burned. The humiliation. The way his grief had turned to something darker when the Austin had revealed the truth.
“I gave her everything,” Kennedy continued. “And she made me look like a fool.”
“You were in love,” Nelson said simply.
“I was blind.”
“No,” Nelson corrected. “You were trusting.”
Kennedy scoffed lightly.
“And look where that got me.”
Nelson leaned forward now, elbows on his knees.
“Ruth’s betrayal broke your heart. I get it.”
Kennedy looked at him sharply.
“But now you’re punishing Antonia for something she didn’t do,” Nelson added.
Kennedy stilled.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Kennedy exhaled slowly.
“She lied too.”
“She hid a pregnancy because she was afraid you’d reject her.”
“She should have trusted me.”
“And did you make it easy for her to?”
The question lingered.
“She thought I didn’t want more,” Kennedy admitted quietly.
“And did you?”
The silence stretched.
“Yes.”
The word felt like confession.
Too real.
Too vulnerable.
“I wanted more,” he said again, this time with less resistance. “And that’s exactly why I ended it.”
Nelson leaned back slowly.
“Say that again.”
Kennedy closed his eyes briefly.
“I ended it because it was becoming real.”
“And you don’t do real.”
“I did,” Kennedy snapped softly. “Once.”
“With Ruth.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't want to replace her in my heart,” Kennedy’s expression darkened, "But finding out she had replaced me in hers made me not to really rate love again."
“I understand,” Nelson said.
Kennedy turned away, staring at the skyline again.
“Antonia being here… it’s different.”
“How?”
“She’s close. My son is close.” His voice lowered. “I see them. I hold him. And something shifts.”
“What shifts?”
He hesitated.
“My priorities.”
Nelson smiled faintly. “That’s called love, my friend.”
Kennedy didn’t smile back.
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s human.”
Kennedy’s fingers flexed against the glass.
“I don’t know how to trust her again.”
Nelson’s expression softened.
“Then don’t start with trust.”
Kennedy frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Start with honesty,” Nelson said. “Tell her you’re afraid.”
Kennedy almost laughed.
“I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do. You just did. With me.”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because I’m not the woman who can hurt you?”
The bluntness made Kennedy flinch.
Nelson continued, steady and calm.
“You’re holding Antonia accountable for fear-driven decisions she made when she felt alone. But you’re making fear-driven decisions right now too.”
Kennedy opened his mouth to protest, then stopped.
Because it was true.
“I deserve honesty,” Kennedy said finally.
“And so does she.”
Silence filled the space again.
“She still loves you?” Nelson asked.
Kennedy’s chest tightened.
“She said that.”
“And?”
“I told her she shouldn’t.”
Nelson stared at him incredulously.
“You did not.”
“I did.”
Nelson leaned back, shaking his head.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I was trying to prevent complications.”
“She told you she loves you and your response was ‘don’t’?”
Kennedy ran a hand through his hair.
“It complicates things.”
Nelson let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Love is complicated, Kennedy. That’s the point.”
Kennedy sank back into his chair.
“What if I open up again and she leaves?”
Nelson’s gaze grew steady.
“What if you don’t, and she stays, but you never let her in?”
That hit harder.
Kennedy stared at him.
“You think I’m sabotaging this?”
“I think you’re protecting yourself so aggressively that you might lose the very thing you’re trying to preserve.”
The words settled heavily.
Nelson softened his tone.
“You lost Ruth in the worst way. That kind of betrayal scars. But Antonia is not your late wife.”
Kennedy inhaled sharply at the phrase.
“Don’t compare them.”
“I’m not. You are.”
Kennedy looked away.
“Antonia made a mistake,” Nelson continued. “A big one. But it wasn’t malicious. It was scared. There’s a difference.”
Kennedy’s shoulders sagged slightly.
“And you love her,” Nelson added.
Kennedy didn’t argue.
“Love after loss feels terrifying,” Nelson said gently. “But it also feels alive. You’ve been surviving for years. Maybe it’s time you actually live.”
Kennedy’s eyes glistened faintly, though he would never admit it.
“I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”
Nelson smiled softly.
“You don’t stop. You just decide it’s worth it anyway.”
The simplicity of it felt both frustrating and freeing.
Kennedy let out a slow breath.
“She deserves better than half of me.”
“Then give her the whole of you.”
“And if she betrays me?”
Nelson stood, walking around the desk and placing a firm hand on Kennedy’s shoulder.
“Then you will survive it. But if you never try, you’ll regret it. And regret lasts longer than heartbreak.”
Kennedy absorbed that in silence.