by Tabatha Kiss
“Now, where was I?” Her smile grows. “Oh, yes. That sweet, warm cocoon of post-coital sleepiness…”
“Don’t drift off for too long, Jenny,” I say. “The night is young.”
“The night is quite mature, actually.”
“But still going through one heck of a rebellious phase.”
She snorts. “Just let me tingle for a while.”
I lean in to kiss her sweat-spotted forehead. “Tingle away, milady.”
“Thank you…”
I prop up on my elbow and quietly watch as her chest rises and falls for a minute or so. It’s a perfect moment in time, one that I try my hardest to memorize from top-to-bottom. Every little detail of her chiseled into my memory for easy recollection but I won’t have to go through this much trouble if I can convince her to be with me. In fact, I’m not leaving this room until I do.
I’m. not. leaving.
“Jen, when is your flight home?” I ask.
Her eyes flick open, displaying a hint of suspicion over the question. “Tomorrow night,” she answers.
“That soon?”
She shrugs. “I have to work on Monday.”
“Damn.”
“Why?” she asks, rolling to face me.
“You know why.”
She doesn’t answer. She just looks at the bed between us and presses her lips together.
“Jen.” I swallow. “I want to see you again.”
She slowly takes in a deep breath.
That’s right, baby. I’ve moved the goalposts again but she’s not exactly in a great position to play that card anymore.
“How?” she asks. “Let’s say we do it, Graham. How is this supposed to work?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Little details.”
“Big details,” she argues.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“But—”
I kiss her again, cupping her face with my palm. She latches onto my wrist with a soft grip but she doesn’t push me away. She kisses me back, pursing those perfect lips and parting them for me.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper again. “We’ll get up, order in some breakfast, and we won’t leave this room until we’ve figured it all out.”
“I have Clara’s wedding tomorrow,” she says.
Crap.
“Then…” I kiss her again. “We’ll get up, we’ll go to the wedding, and we’ll talk after.”
She blinks. “We’ll go to the wedding?”
“Too risky?”
“Only if you value your balls in any significant way.”
I chuckle. “Okay, you’ll go to the wedding and you can meet me up here afterward.”
Jen nods as the wheels churn behind her eyes. “That’ll work.”
I caress her cheek with my thumb. “But, just so you know, I’ve already made my choice.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And what’s that?”
I brush my lips on hers. “Take a wild guess.”
She pulls back. “Be more specific,” she teases, blocking my kiss.
I settle on the pillow. “Well, you know me, Jenny,” I say, smiling. “One night is now a weekend. Then, a week. A month.” My heart skips. “Forever.”
Jen gives no reaction other than her standard, neutral scowl. “I’ll take that under consideration, Mr. Botsford,” she says.
She lies back down beside me. I raise an arm, wrapping it around her as she rests her head along my shoulder.
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Parker. I’ll wait,” I say, planting a kiss on her cheek. “It’ll be worth it.”
Fifteen
Jen
Dearly beloved.
We are gathered here today to join this man and woman in holy matrimony while her older sister stands off to the side in a golden bridesmaid dress trying not to freak the fuck out.
Not about Clara and Peter, obviously. There’s no need to speak now or forever hold my peace in that department. They, and their cows, are gonna be fine.
No, I have my own billionaire lover to worry about across the street.
I woke up this morning to a breakfast spread the size of a surfboard at my feet. The room had been cleaned and tidied, nostalgic fresh-cleaned scent included. How Graham managed that one... well, I didn’t get the chance to ask due to my heart bashing into my ribs so hard.
Just a taste of things to come, he told me, already showered and dressed to the nines in a pressed suit and tie.
Wowza.
So, here I am, watching my baby sister marry the love of her life while mine waits for me to come back to the room and figure our lives out.
Wait, my what?
“Jen.”
I jerk out of my trance to find Clara turned in my direction with her palm extended. Her impatient glance tells me everything.
“Oh,” I whisper as I drop Peter’s rings into her hand amid soft titters from the first few pews. “Sorry.”
She smiles and turns back to her man. Vows of love and commitment fall from her lips, the same ones I heard her practicing over and over again in the chapel foyer before we walked down the aisle.
I love you. I trust you. From now ‘til the day I die, I belong to you. And you belong to me.
But how could she know that for sure? There’s a lot of days between now and the days she dies. Shit happens, right?
And yet…
With all the shit that’s happened between me and Graham, have we ever really stopped belonging to each other?
Ten years of chances to find someone new have come up short. Not that I haven’t had the opportunity, of course. They always just... came up short.
Because they weren’t Graham?
Because I’d already made that vow before?
Because I always belonged to him?
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your promise with a kiss.”
I look up as Peter bends down, planting a quick, respectful peck on Clara’s mouth. As the applause springs forth, a little bit of Clara takes over and she hops up into his arms, happily smothering him with something a little more PG-13 rated.
I laugh and clap harder for my sister. Get him, girl.
They lock arms and rush down the aisle. The rest of us quickly follow, taking the arm of the groomsman we were paired up with. Mine barely even looks at me. Graham must have terrified him. Poor valley boy.
We reach the chapel foyer. Mother nature has graced us with a bit of sunlight instead of rain today (all part of the plan, according to Clara). She and Peter stand outside, ready to greet their guests and point them to the hotel across the street. Take a right as you go inside and follow the blue balloons toward the ballroom. The reception will be there.
I reach my sister and she throws up her hands.
“I got married!” she announces.
“I saw!” I say, excitedly wrapping my arms around her. “Congratulations.”
“Oh, by the way...” She holds out her bouquet. “This is for you.”
I furrow my brow, slowly accepting the flowers. “Aren’t you supposed to toss this over your head at some point?”
“Might as well just hand them over to you,” she says with a shrug.
“Why?” I ask.
She sighs and leans forward to kiss my cheek. “Honey, you know why,” she says before shifting her attention to Tyra behind me.
I step out of the way to keep the line from getting too backed up.
I know why, huh?
I admire the bright blue flowers in my hand, turning them over and bringing them to my nose as blissful warmth fills my chest.
I guess I do.
I follow the line of guests back to the hotel but instead of taking a right and following the balloons, I beeline forward toward the golden elevators. I had planned to make an appearance at the reception before disappearing up to the 25th floor to talk to Graham, but this can’t wait.
I belo
ng to him. And he belongs to me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck...”
Still doesn’t make me feel less nervous about this, though.
I bounce on my toes the whole way up the tower, eagerly watching as the numbers climb at a snail’s pace. Has this thing always been so freakin’ slow?
“Fuck, fuck...”
I stare at the bouquet in my hands. Traditionally, she who takes home the bride’s bouquet is the next to get married. Not exactly the type of tradition I’d expect my sister to take any stock in but if she can find it in her to believe, then maybe I can, too.
“Fuck,” I whisper with a smile.
The elevator slides open and I step out onto the 25th floor.
A door opens down the hall to the left. I raise my head and my chest instantly flutters at his broad shoulders and his brownish-black hair and...
Scarlet?
I slow my pace, each step rattled by her cackle echoing down the empty hallway.
She takes a step through the open door. Room 2507. Not my room. Hayden’s room.
Fucking Hayden.
I exhale a breath as I study the back of his head again. Of course, it’s just Hayden, once again dragging Scarlet into his room for a little afternoon de—
He shifts slightly in my direction and I freeze.
No, not Hayden.
Graham?
He flashes a kind smile at Scarlet and follows her into the room, completely unaware that I’m even here.
The door latches and that familiar dread eeks down my spine. It settles like a black rock in my gut, tearing my insides apart as I just stare at the door.
Am I even sure I saw what I just saw? I step forward to double-check the room numbers. 2507. Definitely not the room we’ve shared these last few days, so Graham didn’t want me to come back to a defiled room. He wanted to keep this little tryst secret.
He thought I’d be at the reception. I did say I would go there first, mingle with the family for a little while, and then come back upstairs. It would be easy for him to—
No.
No, no, no.
Not again.
My eyes brim with tears as I look down at the bouquet in my shaking hands.
So much for tradition.
Sixteen
Graham
I stand by the door as Scarlet lowers down to her knees by the bed.
“I swear, this is the last place I had it!” she says. She tosses the comforter upward to peek under the bed while I tap a toe on the floor.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Take your time.”
She crawls along the floor with her hand shoved beneath the bed. “Usually, I consider it a loss when I leave clothes behind after a hook-up but this is my favorite sweater.”
I nod. “Uh-huh.”
“And...” She pokes her head up and smirks. “Okay, maybe I was feeling a little frisky but weddings tend to get me real hot and bothered and Hayden... Well, you know what Hayden’s good at.”
“I’ve heard a rumor or two.”
Scarlet chuckles once and then pushes off the floor with an annoyed grunt. “It’s gotta be here...” She shuffles to search the armchair by the window. “Real sorry about this, Graham. I know you’re probably busy but I couldn’t find Hayden to let me in.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.”
“Any idea where Hayden is?”
“Uh...”
Someone knocks on the door behind me.
No, not knocks.
Pounds.
“I’m not sure,” I say, turning toward it. “Did you try the bar?”
Scarlet lowers down by the dresser and snorts. “First place I checked.”
I turn the knob and the pounding ceases as I swing the door open. Jen stands in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers by her side. My breath catches at the gorgeous golden gown hugging her curves and my briefs suddenly feel a whole lot tighter.
I look up and my attention lock on her angry face. “Jen, what’s wrong—”
She flings the flowers at me and my reflexes kick in to catch it before they hit me in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” she shouts.
“Kidding you about what?” I ask.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she seethes, her eyes filling with tears. “Again.”
My guts sink as I realize...
“Whoa, hold on, Jen—” I glance over my shoulder at Scarlet across the room, still on her hands and knees with her ass in the air as she fishes beneath the dresser. “No. No, you don’t think—”
Jen’s lip trembles before she spins around and bolts down the hallway toward her room.
“Jen, wait!”
“Found it!”
Scarlet rises off the floor, yanking a black cardigan out from under the dresser.
“Yeah, that’s great, Scarlet...”
I abandon the doorway, racing to catch up with Jen as she slips her keycard into her door with shaking hands.
“Jen—”
She yanks her arm out of my grasp. “Fuck off, Graham!”
“That is not what that looked like!”
“Really?! Because it looked like you walking into a hotel room with Scarlet!”
“Okay...” I nod. “That is kinda what it was, but—”
Jen shoves the door open. “Just get away from me, Graham—”
I block her from slamming the door with my foot. “She hooked up with Hayden the other night and left her sweater,” I say quickly. “Hayden wasn’t there, so she knocked on my door to see if I could let her in to take a look around.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, sure—”
“Thanks again, Graham.”
Jen goes silent as Scarlet slinks by with her sweater in her hands.
“No problem, Scarlet,” I say.
“If you see Hayden, let him know I’m looking for him,” she adds with a wink.
“Yeah.” I lock eyes with Jen as her face falls. “Will do, Scarlet...”
Scarlet flashes a smile as she passes us. “Hey, Jen.”
Jen swallows hard. “Hi, Scarlet,” she squeaks, her voice barely audible.
I don’t move. I keep my eyes on Jen, watching as the truth washes over her expression, mixing heavily with the bright red shame in her cheeks.
“Let me in, Jenny,” I whisper, adding pressure to the door. “It’s all right...”
She hesitates for a long time, that look of pain settling even deeper into her face. I reach my free hand inside and touch her shoulder, the least risky place. After another deep breath, Jen takes a slow step back and lets me in.
I close the door behind me as she slinks backward toward the writing desk with her arms crossed and the tip of her tongue pinched between her teeth. Deep in thought. Lost in embarrassment.
“I don’t blame you,” I say, laughing. “I probably would have thought the same thing if I had—”
“No.” Her voice breaks. She shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t have thought the same thing. I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Jenny.”
She shifts on her feet. She rubs her arm. She stares at the floor, just one second away from crumbling to piece in front of me.
“I’m sorry, Graham,” she says.
“You don’t have to be,” I say. I hold up the bouquet. “Except maybe for launching a bunch of flowers at my head, but I think I can find it in my heart to forgive that. Someday.”
I set them down on the table by the door.
“I don’t mean for that,” she says. “Though, yeah, sorry. For that.”
I take a step forward. “Then, for what? For assuming I’d rather risk a life with you by spending ten minutes with her? That is not a safe bet. And believe me, I know a thing or two about gambling in Vegas.”
She doesn’t laugh. She keeps her eyes on the floor, dragging my heart down with them.
“Jen, please talk to me.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
<
br /> “Do what?” I ease a little closer to her and she stiffens. “This? You and me?”
Jen nods. “I’m sorry,” she says again.
“Why not?” I ask. “What happened between this morning and now to—”
“It’s not you, Graham.” A tear tumbles down her cheek. “It’s me. I can’t...”
I frown. “You can’t? Can’t what?”
“Graham, stop.”
“Can’t what, Jen?”
“I can’t trust you,” she says, her voice breaking.
My mouth sags. “Yeah, that doesn’t exactly fall under it’s not you, it’s me, Jenny. That’s clearly a me problem.”
She exhales. “I just don’t know if I can be a part of this life,” she says. “Constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if other women are tumbling over you—”
“Christ, Jen.” I flex my jaw. “I didn’t do anything. Stop punishing me for your fuck up.”
Her head jerks up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say. “You’ve been punishing me for years because you jumped to an idiotic conclusion. You didn’t even bother to confront me about it. You made up your mind and used it as an excuse to bolt. Now, I forgive you. Completely. I’m willing to leave the past where it is because I see a future together. Why can’t you?”
She hesitates. “That’s not fair.”
“Love isn’t about being fair!” I say. “You’re either in or you’re not. I’m in. Where are you?”
“Graham, don’t—”
“In or out, Jenny?”
“I... don’t know.”
“In or out?” I ask again.
“It’s not that simple, Graham!”
“Yes, it is. I love you. I’m not scared to say it. I’m not even hesitating. I love you. I am in. Are you in?”
“No,” she says, standing a little taller.
“And there it is.” I bow. “Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Parker. I won’t waste any more of it.”
I head toward the door, my heart pounding with rage and despair.
“Graham, wait...”
I stop by the door. I don’t want to but that pain in her voice stops me cold.
I turn around to face her, spotting more tears building in her eyes and my chest clenches.