by Aria Ford
I snorted. “Nice try,” I muttered.
He didn’t say anything, but cleared his throat. “Jackie, those rumors are a lie.”
“Which ones?” I asked frostily. They didn’t seem like rumors to me, if the thing to which he referred was the news.
“About me and Alexa. My dad set it up. He wanted us to marry. I swear this is true.”
I looked at him frostily. “Sure. That’s why the press is full of pictures of the two of you together, not so?”
He closed his eyes. He looked like he was suffering, and in that moment I was glad. I had suffered for weeks when he walked out the first time and now he had taken that hurt and multiplied it by ten. He could hurt for a bit.
“Jackie, it isn’t what it looks like.”
“Prove it,” I snapped.
To my surprise, he smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Come to dinner with me tonight.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“I said, Jackie, would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me? At the Halston?”
I swallowed. My heart was thumping in my chest like the piston on a small aircraft. “Are you mad?” I said, though I laughed as I said it. “You are mad. How could I do that?”
“Well, it’s easy,” he said with a wry grin. “You get dressed and ready and then you join me in the car. If your friend is staying the night, maybe she would be kind enough to look after Stella for us? We can take her out for dinner later in the week to make up for it.”
I stared at him. Of all the crazy, outrageous things he could have done to say sorry, to show me, with absolute certainty, that he wasn’t ashamed of me, this was top of the list. I was smiling.
“Scott West,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “You are mad. And I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We looked at each other, eyes locked. He started laughing.
I started laughing, too, and soon we were in each other’s arms. I felt as if my heart was flying above me, making wild looping circuits of the neighborhood. I was so happy! All the gray numbness of the previous weeks wore away and I was standing in a pool of light.
“Scott West,” I whispered into his ear as his body pressed against mine. I could feel his arousal beside my thigh, and I was aroused too. As I reached up to kiss him, longing overpowering me, he bent his lips to mine.
His tongue slid down the line of my mouth, and when it entered I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. He tasted my mouth, and I tasted his in a kiss so slow and tender that I felt my body melt slowly.
When we moved apart, his eyes shone. My own eyes were shining, too, and I knew it would be a challenge to hold out until after dinner. But it was a challenge I was prepared to meet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scott
I waited in the sitting room for Jackie to dress. I tried not to pace or otherwise seem anxious. Her friend was still in the kitchen, and she gave me an odd look. She was clearly trying to figure out who I was and why I was here.
“Thanks for letting me in,” I said shyly.
“It was nothing,” she said, concentrating on whatever was in the cooking pot. “As long as you’re okay now?” she asked, jerking a head in the direction of the room.
“Yeah,” I said shakily. “I think so.”
“Well, good. Jackie is a good friend of mine. And if anyone hurts her, I swear I’ll…” she trailed off. I looked across at the bedroom door.
“Scott?”
I stared. Jackie was there. A Jackie who looked even more lovely than I had ever seen her. She was wearing a gown the color of pale pewter, knee length and elegant. Her ash-toned hair was fluffy and washed and styled to one side. She looked exquisite.
“Jackie.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I stared and stared. She smiled.
“You like it?” she asked shyly. I laughed.
“Hell, Jackie!” My voice was ragged. I cleared my throat. I couldn’t stop staring. My body was screaming at me, wanting me to kiss her, to undress her, to carry her into the room next door. But my eyes just wanted to look at her. “You look beautiful.”
She giggled shyly, made a little turn. She wore heels—the first time I’d seen her in heels, now I thought of it—and they looked incredible on her. She wasn’t short, but with the inch or two extra she came to my nose. I tore my eyes away.
“It is okay, isn’t it?” I asked her friend, who was looking at both of us with a smile on her face so tender it took my breath away. “I mean, if you stay here for a few hours while we go out? We’d like to invite you to lunch on Saturday, to say thank you.”
“It’s okay with me,” she said, still staring at us. She smiled. “When do you plan to be back?”
“At nine thirty?” I asked. It was seven o’ clock now. I didn’t want to shorten our time together, but I felt bad imposing on a lady I’d just met.
“You can manage longer than that,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m fine here until eleven.”
“We couldn’t possibly…” I demurred.
“Thanks, Barbs,” Jackie said, going over to embrace her. I stood back, breathing in perfume, spellbound by her walk. “But we won’t be longer than ten. And…thank you. For everything.”
“It’s really nothing,” her friend said stiffly. I thought she might cry and I looked away, focusing on Stella, who was asleep in her crib. While the two discussed plans for the day, I went to look at my sleeping child.
“Okay,” Jackie said at length. Her voice sounded tight, as if she was going to cry. My own throat tightened to hear it. “We’re off?”
“Yes,” I muttered, my voice thick with feeling. “We’re off.”
We headed downstairs to my car. Jackie had shrugged on a light blazer with the dress. It was a sort of natural cream color, and it looked amazing too. I stared at her.
“You are so beautiful.” I couldn’t actually believe how lovely she looked or how much I wanted her at that moment.
“Not really,” she said with a crooked smile. “I think you, Mr. Fancy, are biased.” She kissed me.
“Not at all,” I said. “Not at all.”
She was beautiful. Natural, soft and lovely. She was so much lovelier than any alterations, studio makeup or esthetician could make anyone, ever. I watched her, mesmerized. I loved her.
We arrived at the Halston at seven thirty. I nodded to the doorman, who recognized me. He led us in and up to the elevator. We would go to the rooftop.
“This place is scary,” Jackie said. I laughed.
We got out of the elevator and walked to the tables. The waiter—Sam, my usual waiter—approached us. “Table for two?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sam.”
She raised a brow and I felt proud. I drew out her seat and she settled herself into it, then I sat opposite her.
“Jackie,” I said softly. “Thank you for coming out with me.”
She smiled. The smile lit her face and made it even more beautiful, if that was possible. “You silly man. Of course I did.”
I flushed. “No of course about it. I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not,” she said with a flippant grin. “But then, who deserves anyone? I don’t deserve you either.”
“That’s not true.”
At some point, her foot had moved so that it rested between mine. I gasped and my eyes widened. My own foot drifted sideways, stroking hers. I felt for her knee under the table and found it, gave it a soft squeeze. She giggled, breathlessly.
I looked up to see our waiter approaching. I sat up straight and sucked the smile off my face. She giggled.
“To drink, sir?”
“Water for me, please. And for the lady?” I smiled at Jackie.
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
We laughed. I was sure anyone watching would think we were completely mad. I didn’t care. That’s what it’s like when you love someone, I thought with wonder. You’re in your own world.
While Sam brought the water,
we looked at the menu. I chose their lobster and recommended it to her. Her brow shot up.
“Hell, Scott. Do you want me to make you bankrupt?” she asked. Then she laughed. “I guess that’s not so easy, huh?”
I blushed. “I hope it’s not so easy,” I said with a smile. “I plan to have plenty for us to enjoy.”
She shot a look at me. I wondered if I’d given the plan away. I looked around innocently. “We should have plenty to enjoy here, yes?”
“I guess,” she said, with a frown. She wasn’t easy to sidetrack. I would have to remember that.
Our order was placed and, while we waited for it, we talked. She told me all about her news—there were ten months to catch up on, after all—and I told her some of mine. Mostly, I just asked her things. Her life was more interesting than mine was, after all. And I wanted to know everything about the birth. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been there for her when she needed me.
The lobster arrived and I saw her eyes get bigger. I smiled. I would love sharing things with Jackie, I knew—from dinners to vacations to my cars—she would find so much pleasure in them.
“Not bad, eh?” I asked.
She nodded. She looked awed. “Not bad.”
We both laughed. The dinner was as amazing as I knew it would be. We sat and ate and chatted, but the weird thing was that I didn’t feel a need to constantly fill in blanks. I was happy to share silence. It was a new feeling for me, that place of shared contentment and feeling, beyond words.
When we’d finished the main course, I suggested we order dessert. She nodded vigorously.
“If it’s anything like that, heck! We have to try it.”
I laughed. Her enthusiasm and love for life made me happy just seeing them. I waved down Sam while she made up her mind.
“Three ways of chocolate mousse,” she said quickly. I grinned. It sounded good.
“Make it two,” I said.
I watched her sample the dessert, my body igniting instantly when she licked the spoon. She was so sexy. So beautiful. I loved her and I wanted her. I loved her so much it hurt.
Once dessert was over, I managed to find my nerve. And the box in my pocket that had been hiding there since I came out.
“Jackie,” I said. Why was this so hard? I sighed and breathed in deeply. Tried again. “Jackie?” Oh, hell. My voice was trembling and my eyes were wet and I couldn’t talk without crying. “I love you, sweetheart,” I blurted. “Will you marry me?”
She stared at me. I watched her. Saw the light turn on in her eyes and build and grow, as if hope was rising there, and wonder, a slow sunshine creeping through the pewter gray of them.
I stood. Walked to her chair. Knelt beside it. Took out the ring I’d had commissioned earlier that week. Thank Heaven they’d put casting it at the top of their list. It was ready.
“Jackie Jefferson. Will you marry me?”
She swallowed. Stared at me. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She tried to speak but no words came out. She closed her eyes and had another go.
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
I felt as if the sun had come out inside of me. I was filled with warmth.
She was laughing, now, and crying, and so was I. I stood and she stood. Someone had been downstairs and called a photographer, it seemed. The flash caught us as we kissed.
I didn’t really notice. I held Jackie and breathed in the scent of her and pressed her to me. She was crying and I smudged away the tears with my hand.
“I love you,” I whispered as I kissed her again.
I held her and I wept as well, with happiness: the woman of my dreams was in my arms and we were going to be married and I could be the father I’d longed to be for my own daughter—our daughter. I would never have thought it was possible to feel so happy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jackie
It all seemed like a dream—a crazy, insane, wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. The weeks had passed slowly, but now we were at the end of the season and were ready to be married.
I was staying with Scott—he had decided we would move into his apartment until we found something that suited us both perfectly. I had told him about my dad and his need to be near us and he had understood completely.
“Jackie?” a voice called at the door.
“Mm?” I replied dreamily. I opened the door to find Barbara there. She was my bridesmaid. She had laughed about that, saying that at fifty-two she was hardly a bridesmaid. But I had insisted. Now she was here to help me dress.
I let her in and she went to the bed where the dress was laid out. I had been looking at it apprehensively all morning. Barbara picked it up with the same ease with which she peeled carrots or cleaned paintbrushes.
“Here we go,” she said, the Dior creation over one arm. “Let’s see if we can figure this one out.”
I laughed. She helped me with the corsets and underthings, then fastened the dress up behind me. It was stunning.
It had a classical look, with a low V-neck and a tight waist, a long skirt gathered in at the waist and falling in soft folds to lap the floor behind me. It was white, but a sort of pearl white, almost like gray pearls. It matched my eyes. I swallowed.
“It’s beautiful.”
“No, you’re beautiful,” Barbara corrected stubbornly. “The dress just matches you.”
I swallowed and hugged her impulsively. “You look beautiful too.” She did.
She was wearing a butter-yellow dress with a low neck and high waist that fell perfectly. It matched her auburn hair, which she had curled and fluffed so it framed her heart-shaped face appealingly. She looked at least ten years younger than I knew she was, and really cute.
“Oh, nonsense, she said, flapping a hand at me absently. “Now. I think we’re supposed to let the hairdresser in just now. Oh, hell. There’s the bell.”
She ran to answer the door. Scott was already at the church. I stood and looked at myself in the mirror, feeling as if my heart might stretch and burst if anymore happiness filled it. I slid my hands down the slippery silk and stared into my own surprised eyes.
I looked beautiful.
Barbara returned, hairdresser and stylist in tow, and soon I was in the seat behind what had become my dressing table, with my hair being styled into the most elaborate, beautiful style of my life. I stared at myself as she lowered the veil onto the elegant bun she’d made. My face was framed with wavy curls, my hair arranged on top of my head in a style that cascaded down the back, falling into loose ringlets that brushed my neck.
“Right,” Barbara said. “Now, the lady I just let in has to do your face.”
I laughed, still amazed at Scott and the way he was spoiling me. As if a daylong beauty treatment yesterday hadn’t been treating enough, without my own stylist and makeup artist here in our apartment, doing my face and getting me ready!
They finished and I drifted, my mind in a haze, down to the car that waited for me. It was supposed to be a surprise, and it was.
A vintage Rolls, cream and beautiful, awaited me. He couldn’t have picked a better bridal conveyance than that. I felt my heart melt. I looked up, not wanting tears spoiling my face.
“Right,” Barbara said briskly. “Let’s get in. Amelia has the baby.”
Amelia was our Au pair. She was coming with us, Stella on her knee. I wanted to take Stella myself, but Scott had insisted—probably fairly—that she might mess up my gown and he had a point there. She did have a habit, at three months old, of putting things in her mouth.
I slipped into the seat and looked over to where Barbara and Amelia rode with us.
“Hello, baby,” I whispered to her. She looked at me as if not sure what to make of this strange creature. Then she recognized me and smiled.
“Nah”, she said.
I laughed. That probably meant high praise. I grinned at my daughter.
“You look beautiful,” I replied. She did. Not content with spoiling me silly, Scott had ordered her a proper gown too—an adorable w
hite silk one with puffed sleeves and a bow at the waist. She looked like a lovely doll.
“Wuh.”
We all laughed. My dad was there too, looking stunning in a black suit. He smiled at me, eyes crinkling. “She has good sense, your daughter.”
I laughed and nodded, unable to speak.
“You look beautiful, baby.”
I did cry then, though fortunately my makeup didn’t smudge. I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, I said, my voice wobbling dangerously. “You too.”
Then we were speeding away to my wedding.
I didn’t see anything of the crowd, the photographer, the journalists each taking pictures of their own. I didn’t see anything, really, until I walked in. Then I saw Scott. And everything faded.
He was wearing a black suit he could have been born wearing, it fit him so well. Tall and dark haired, with that lovely chestnut curl to his hair that brought out the blue of his eyes so perfectly, he looked like a painting. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.
He was smiling at me and I smiled back from under the veil. I went to stand beside him.
His hand moved so that it stroked mine and I wanted to grin. I gripped his fingers briefly and then let go sternly, forcing myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The ceremony seemed brief. The words washed over me and seared into my heart with their beauty. Then I was saying my vows.
“I do.”
I listened to the verse and then to Scott’s reply. Low, level and unshakeable.
“I do.”
“You may kiss.”
He turned to me and, with trembling fingers, lifted the veil. He kissed me and it was a burning, passionate kiss, a hungry one that, although brief, promised to make up for that lack later. I shivered and kissed him back.
We were man and wife.
We turned to face the congregation and I felt a little dizzy. In the pale light that filtered down on all of us, the group before us was a sea of blond and red and brown and gray and pastels and the black of suits. I held Scott’s hand, swaying a little with amazement.