Page 12 of Sinner's Vow

Chapter Five

NOAH

Singapore.

Hong Kong.

Moscow.

Three weeks come and go in a split second. It’s an endless slew of planes and hotel rooms and thankfully, more days off than we get in the States. We get to play tourist, even if it’s just a little bit.

And we all settle into a comfortable routine.

Kennedy and I keep things very light. We share a suite, but not a bed. We talk every now and then, but neither of us goes deeper than the surface. I keep my promise and get her a new canvas with every stop, and I have each completed one shipped back to the house I share with Tyler in California.

When we arrive in Italy, Kennedy is so excited she can barely contain herself. We have four days here before the show, and she’s made plans for every single one of them.

For someone who loves classical art, every bit of Europe has to look like a wonderland.

We spent the first two days wandering through museums. The next day we went to a castle.

And now, today, we’re in a town square of a sleepy little village, a bit off the beaten path. The ground is covered in stones and ancient buildings rise around us. And before us, there is a massive garden with a sculpture of a half-naked woman in it.

Kennedy found the perfect place to sit, giving her the view she is looking for. She has her easel set up and the canvas set. Her hands expertly brush out the scene in front of her.

She’s brilliant. I didn’t really understand what it meant when she told me she was a painter. But when she showed me the first one, when we were in Australia, I almost didn’t believe her that she was the one who painted it.

I was sure it came straight out of the Louvre.

I sit on a bench, giving her space, and I study the woman who has been tied to my life in a way I never, ever would have expected.

Kennedy is good. She is kind. She’s sassy and sometimes a little bossy. She gets angry in traffic. She stops and literally smells the roses at every florist booth.

And she isn’t suffocating me.

She could be making my life hell. I know I’m not handling this well. I know I should be trying harder, doing better.

But Kennedy is giving me space to breathe.

To process.

And for that, I know I’ll never be able to repay her.

With my forearms braced on my thighs, I look down at the ring on my left hand. I reach up with my right and spin the gold metal around my finger.

I keep meaning to take it off when we’re not on stage. I keep meaning to find a box to put it in when it isn’t needed for the show.

But every time I start slipping it off my finger, I feel sick to my stomach. I’m filled with this sense of dread and anxiety.

So, it has stayed on my finger, since the day Kennedy put it there.

My eyes rise back up to the woman, to her own left hand.

I’ve paid attention. I’ve tried not to, but I’ve noticed.

Kennedy hasn’t taken her ring off, other than to shower, since that day either.

These rings aren’t needed all the time. We aren’t being watched every moment. We aren’t being watched now.

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