The Two of Us Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Kennedy Fox

  www.kennedyfoxbooks.com

  The Two of Us

  Love in Isolation, #1

  Cover design by Outlined with Love Designs

  Cover photography by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Copy Editor: Jenny Sims | Editing 4 Indies

  All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Hey readers!

  The Two of Us Playlist

  What’s Next

  What’s Next

  About the Author

  Connect with us

  Books by Kennedy Fox

  Free Books!

  Newsletter

  Author’s Note

  Although the romance in this book is fiction, there are some real aspects of the pandemic mentioned throughout. Please go to the cdc.gov and who.int websites for all current information.

  Thank you to the heroes who are working in the frontlines during this crisis. Thank you to the essential workers who sacrifice for others. Thank you to our leaders who stand up and fight for our safety.

  There's nowhere we need to be, no, no, no

  I'ma get to know you better

  Kinda hope we're here forever

  There's nobody on these streets

  If you told me that the world's endin'

  Ain't no other way that I can spend it

  “Stuck with U”

  -Adriana Grande, Justin Bieber

  Chapter One

  CAMERON

  DAY 1

  My heart pounds as I rush around my penthouse, shoving clothes and books into my Louis Vuitton suitcases. It’s my senior year at New York University and the campus has shut down indefinitely today. Starting next week, I’ll finish the semester online.

  No graduation ceremony.

  No saying goodbye to my classmates I’ve seen every day for the past four years.

  No final words of wisdom from my professors.

  I’m heartbroken.

  With a 4.0 grade point average, I can’t risk falling behind and losing my spot as valedictorian. Hopefully, this doesn’t interfere with graduating on time because I’ve been accepted into the Master of Business program in the fall.

  While I’m upset about no longer attending classes and missing out on the last few months of my final year, I’m more concerned and devastated about what’s happening around the country and in the city I was born and raised in.

  New York was recently declared a major disaster area. A dangerous viral outbreak has swept the world, and we’re being told to self-isolate to help slow the spread, but the hospitals are already overcrowded.

  When the news broke, my parents begged me to come home, but I know my mother. Clara St. James can’t function without her housekeepers and personal chefs, and if she continues to let them help, she’s directly breaking the basic guidelines of being quarantined. Unless her staff moves in, my parents will still be in contact with people who are carrying germs from the outside world. I love my mom, but she’s the classic Upper East Side’s cliché of wealth and power who doesn’t follow rules because they’re below her.

  My family owns a billion-dollar fashion empire, so it’s all I’ve ever known. Since I could walk, my mother has groomed me to be involved with the business. As the elite princess of the St. James estate, I’m expected and have agreed to maintain the company when they’re ready to retire. I love my family, but behind our socialite status and the media’s glamorized portrayal, we’re dysfunctional with a capital D.

  My brother, Ryan, is four years older than me and graduated from medical school last year. He’s doing his residency in one of New York City’s top-ranked hospitals and will work directly with patients who have contracted the virus. It’s scary as hell to know he’ll be there, but he’s determined to do whatever it takes to help people and save lives. I’m proud of him, but I worry about his safety.

  “Cameron, this is absurd,” my mother says on the phone with a long sigh. “Rodrick will pick you up and drive you home.”

  “I’m staying at the cabin so I can focus on my schoolwork and stay inside.” I repeat the same words I said yesterday. I don’t tell her my boyfriend, Zane, is meeting me there in a couple of days. She’s not his biggest fan because he hasn’t proposed yet, but I’m nowhere near ready for marriage. I’m only twenty-two and want to finish school first. This year, we’re both graduating, and we plan to move in together this summer as a trial run. So for now, she’ll have to get over the idea of planning the wedding of her dreams.

  I could’ve driven with him, but I was too anxious and ready to get out of the city to wait. He needed extra time to do his laundry, pack, and buy more supplies. Zane doesn’t live on campus, but he slept over at my place a lot, which is why it’s better we isolate together.

  “Plus, I could’ve been exposed by someone at school. We really have no idea how many cases there are, so it’s best I stay away. That way, I don’t risk getting you or Daddy sick.”

  He has high blood pressure, and my mom smokes. Though she claims she quit, I know she hasn’t.

  “You two should go somewhere for a few weeks,” I suggest. “Your company employees are working remote, so there’s no reason to stay in the city. Visit the Hampton lake house or drive to the Tennessee resort.”

  “And leave all my things?” She gasps. “We’ll be fine, dear. Your father and I are usually six feet apart anyway. The housekeepers will wear masks and gloves. You really should just come here so we’re together.” I roll my eyes as she continues to beg. For the past fifteen years they’ve pretended to be madly in love in front of the cameras and brush aside any rumors that my dad has a drinking problem. They want the world to think they have a picture-perfect marriage, but it’s only an act.

  Denying her request again, I explain how labor-intensive my online classes will be, and as nicely as I can, I remind her I’ll need this time to focus on finishing my semester and keeping my grades up. She seems to buy it and tells me to check in with her daily. I make her promise to keep her distance from everyone because while she’s health-conscious, her smoking puts her at a higher risk, so I worry.

  After the call ends, I grab the rest of my essentials and pack my Range Rover. The back is full of enough food and water to last a few weeks. I picked up a large online shopping order today so I wouldn’t have to go to the store again for a while. Just the thought of being in public gives me hives, but my mother never believed I had anxiety and didn’t allow me to get help or medication. Last year, I secretly saw a therapist and finally got a pr
escription to help me cope.

  Once I have everything, I grab Chanel’s carrier and food. She’s another reason I prefer not to stay at my parents’ house. She’s a Sphynx cat, and my mother’s Yorkie barks at her nonstop, which means I’d spend the entire time trying to keep them six feet apart.

  I load her up, take one last look around to make sure I didn’t forget anything, then leave. The cabin is in Roxbury, which is three hours away, but with an overwhelming number of people leaving the city, the traffic could make it longer.

  I listen to the radio as I drive, watching people rush down the sidewalks. It’s complete madness. My mind wanders as I reflect on what’s happened over the past few days. Schools and non-essential stores closing. No flights going in or out of the country. National parks and Disney closed. No large gatherings allowed and being told to stay six feet apart from strangers. Not to mention the masks people are wearing.

  It’s a culture shock and surreal how fast this happened. The sooner I get out of the city, the better.

  The past week has been a blur. Between the news reports and social media posts, it’s hard to know what to believe and whether our government is really prepared. I’m well aware of my family’s legacy and what it’s provided me. The media paints me as a privileged white girl who doesn’t have to work, who has everything handed to her on a silver platter, and only has an education and future career because of the family business.

  I’m an introvert and keep to my small circle of friends I trust. The media’s perception is an unfair assessment, but it sells a story and gets clicks online. Reporting the truth wouldn’t be as entertaining.

  I’ve worked my ass off in school. I love learning and am passionate about business. I can’t deny my closet is full of designer clothes and shoes, but it’s to be expected. I wear the family collection and other designer brands my parents personally endorse. I was raised by nannies, housekeepers, and personal drivers and believed this lifestyle was normal until I got a taste of the outside world and reality. Life is different when your family is in the top one-percent richest of the population, which makes me an easy target for ridicule.

  It also doesn’t get me a lot of true friends, and it can be lonely at times.

  The scene driving into town is gorgeous. Spring is a few months away. The trees are still bare, and there’s a crisp chill in the air, even for mid-February. Once I turn onto our private road and see the cabin, I let out a sigh of relief that I made it. The Roxbury cabin is one of my favorite properties even though my mother hates it. It’s not glamorous enough, and she feels too disconnected from her high-society friends here. But that’s exactly why I love it so much.

  The semi-open layout is rustic yet modern. Large windows and a wraparound deck offer the best views of the sunrise and sunset. It’s a three-story cabin that sits on ten acres overlooking two ponds and the mountains. There’s no better place to be, and maybe it’ll distract me from what feels like the end of the world. And if that doesn’t do the job, I have vodka.

  “Chanel, we’re here!” I sing-song as I park in the three-car garage. “We’ll be safe here, baby.”

  The downside of traveling without Zane is having to unload this shit alone. Fortunately, my mom had the cleaning crew come out two weeks ago, so it should still be decent inside. We rent it out to family and friends once in a while, so we keep the five thousand-square-foot cabin maintained year-round.

  I set the cat carrier down and open it so she can explore and get accustomed to the space. She hasn’t been here since last year, so it might take her some time to remember it. She immediately sniffs around and flicks her tail, annoyed.

  “You’ll like it here,” I tell her, then lean down to pet her. She purrs, and I smile. “I’ll be right back with your litter box and dishes.”

  After dragging my suitcases inside, I make three more trips until every grocery bag is on the counter. I put the food and drinks in the refrigerator and pantry, then unpack my clothes and hang them in the master bedroom closet. It’s the only room on the third floor and has a large window that overlooks the property. The other two bedrooms are on the second floor.

  “I’m exhausted.” I fall back on the bed with my arms spread out. After a moment, I feel Chanel jump up by my feet.

  “What about you, Chanel?” Turning my head, I see she’s curled in a ball and falling asleep. “Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

  I quickly text Zane to let him know I made it and will probably be out for the rest of the night.

  Cameron: Chanel and I made it safely. All unpacked and just waiting for you now :) I’m gonna go to bed. Love you!

  Setting my phone on the nightstand, I stand and head to the bathroom. The jet tub looks so damn tempting, but I’ll have plenty of time to use it tomorrow.

  After I change into my comfy clothes, I brush my teeth and wash my face.

  Once I’m tucked into bed, I check my phone and frown when I don’t see a response from Zane. Maybe he’s on his way here to surprise me and can’t text because he’s driving. Before I think too much about it, my eyelids grow heavy, and I fall asleep with Chanel snuggled into my side.

  Blinking awake, I sit up in bed and recall where I am.

  The Roxbury cabin.

  Then I remember what woke me. A loud noise.

  Chanel is no longer sleeping either, which means she heard it too.

  Grabbing my phone, I check the time and for any messages from Zane. It’s half past midnight, and I’m exhausted. If Zane decided to come early, he would’ve called or sent a text to let me know.

  Another deafening crash has me jumping.

  “Oh my God…” My breathing picks up, and I panic.

  Someone’s in my house!

  Looking around for something, I see one of my mother’s marble statues on the dresser. It’s heavy and could probably break a skull. I don’t have time to think twice before I grab it and tiptoe to my bedroom door. More noise echoes from downstairs, and I know it’s probably some dumb kids hoping to steal something they can sell. Joke’s on them because my parents never keep any expensive possessions here.

  Putting my ear against the wood, I listen for footsteps. When I hear another ear-piercing boom vibrate through the house, my heart drops into my stomach. I could call the cops, but by the time they arrived, the murderer would have me chopped into a thousand pieces and thrown into the pond.

  Slowly, I open the door and poke my head out, holding the statue tight in my grip. The hallway light glows, and I check both ways before stepping out. I walk toward the staircase and yelp when Chanel rubs against my leg.

  “Chanel, no! Get back here!” I whisper-hiss, hoping she’ll actually listen to me. Instead, she runs down the first set of stairs, and I follow as quietly as I can. “Chanel!”

  As I chase her, I keep an eye out for a potential killer. If she outs me being up here and gets us both caught, I might strangle her. When I’m on the second level, I notice the kitchen light is on, but I distinctly remember turning it off.

  Gripping the marble tighter, I prepare myself to fight for my life as I walk down the final staircase. When I move closer, I see a large duffel bag on the kitchen counter and the fridge is wide open. Did someone break into a multi-million-dollar cabin to steal food?

  While I discreetly scan the space, my rapid breathing is the only sound I hear until Chanel loses her shit, and complete chaos ensues.

  She hisses, jumping from the floor to the island, then leaps off the countertop as a huge Doberman chases after her. A man is hunched in front of the refrigerator and tries to stand when the dog plows him over. He’s unsteady on his feet and tries to catch his fall. The moment he turns toward me, I freak out and throw the statue at his face. It falls to the ground with a deep thud and surprisingly doesn’t break.

  “Ow, what the fuck?” a deep voice groans as he takes a hit to the cheek. Chanel is having a fit as I try to grab her.

  Then to make matters worse, the Doberman barks and growls at me like I’m his next meal. C
hanel hisses and runs into the living room, and the dog gives chase at a full sprint.

  “Chanel!” I panic and turn toward the criminal. “Get your fucking dog away from my cat!” I beg. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, just don’t let him kill her!”

  “Cami?” His deep voice catches my attention, and my body freezes.

  I look over and finally meet his eyes that are squinting at me. Swallowing hard, I narrow my gaze at the man who’s broken into my house and called me by a nickname I haven’t heard in years.

  Releasing a frustrated breath, I’m nearly panting when I ask, “What the hell are you doing here, Eli?”

  Chapter Two

  ELIJAH

  “Cami?” I rub my cheek. She threw a heavy fucking statue at me that could’ve easily given me a concussion if she had better aim.

  She narrows her eyes and exhales a frustrated breath. “What the hell are you doing here, Eli?”

  I look at the woman who’s haunted my dreams for ten years and notice she’s as painfully beautiful as I remember. The tabloid magazines never paint her in a positive light and always snap photos when she’s trying to escape or has partied too much, but I knew her before she had the snobby rich-girl reputation.