I pause and allow my mind to rewind back to that night. We had a nice time dancing, Edwin left with Genesis, and I was feeling out of sorts, like I wasn’t good enough. JP took me back to his place . . . and said so many kind words that I’ve banished from my mind.
Until now.
“What he should’ve said the moment he saw you was how fucking breathtaking you look . . . He should’ve lifted your hand and pressed the lightest of kisses to your knuckles, just so he could claim you in front of everyone around him . . . And when he lowered your hand, he should’ve leaned inches from your ear, and said how intoxicatingly beautiful you smelled.”
Because they’d seemed so out of character for JP, I’d largely ignored how I’d reacted to them. What I had recalled was where he’d had his driver take us.
“But you took me back to your place. If you weren’t trying to do that then what were you doing?”
“Being nice,” he wails. “Something, apparently, you don’t think I can be. Your opinion of me is so low, that you believe only the worst.”
“But . . .” I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out the details.
“Just forget it, Kelsey.”
“No, JP, let’s talk about this.”
“I don’t want to be on this airplane right now, so do you really think I want to talk about that night? I don’t. So, fucking drop it.”
And then he turns away from me, shutting me out.
The rest of the trip is spent in silence. I can’t be sure what he’s thinking about, but his words are playing on repeat in my head.
Your opinion of me is so low, that you believe only the worst.
Have I always gotten along with JP? No.
But I wouldn’t say he’s the worst human I’ve ever come across. He’s temperamental, doesn’t seem to have the most impeccable conversational skills, and loves to drive people nuts, but I wouldn’t say he’s the worst.
I see good in him.
I see how he helps others.
I see the way he knows everyone’s name in the office, how he says hi to them, how he gets people coffee just out of the kindness of his heart.
I see the compliments he tosses around, the good-natured comradery he creates, and the smiles he puts on faces.
I see the love and respect he has for his brothers, even when they’re fighting.
So why didn’t I see that the night of the gala?
I glance over at him.
Did I really make him feel that way? But then I consider his comments from a few hours ago when I suggested I could do the job on my own. There had been . . . disdain in his voice.
“The fuck you can. There’s more to it than just walking around an office. Hate to say it, but you’re not sufficiently educated to handle this on your own.” Something tells me that his reaction wasn’t completely about my professional skills, but more to do with his feelings about me.
How did this go so wrong?
“What room do you want?” JP asks once we’re done touring the penthouse. And I use the word touring loosely. JP tossed his arm around, telling me exactly where “everything” was while I gazed at the luxurious suite I’d be living in for the next two weeks.
The exterior walls of the penthouse are made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking view of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. The floors are beautiful gray-stained wood, accented with plush rugs and pristine, white furniture. There are pictures of buildings on the walls and I recognize a few that I’ve visited in LA. These must all belong to Cane Real Estate. And the kitchen . . . oh, it’s beautiful with state-of-the-art appliances, marble countertops, and a kitchen island that seems bigger than my entire apartment combined.
Two weeks here will be no problem.
If only my company was more agreeable.
“I don’t mind. Whichever is fine,” I say, especially since both rooms are the same, from what JP said. If one was bigger, I could clearly take the smaller room.
“Just choose one,” he says in an exasperated tone.
“Fine, the right one.”
“Good.” JP rolls his bag across the wooden floors and calls out, “Ronda ordered us dinner. Should be here any moment. Just start eating whenever you want.” And then he’s down the hall and out of sight.
Well, I guess that’s that.
I roll my suitcase in the opposite direction, toward my room. I’m determined to not let his bad attitude affect me.
When I reach my room, I set my purse down and flop back on the king-sized bed, which is decorated in white linens and soft gray pillows. A girl could seriously get used to this. Now I kind of know how it felt to be Lottie when she first moved in with Huxley. Too bad for me, this is only for two weeks.