Worth the Wait (Kingston Ale House)

by A. J. Pine

  “And this is my life. Her life. For once, Whitney, put someone else fucking first!”

  Her smile finally faltered along with her composure. “No!” she cried. “I can’t!”

  That final thread he’d been clinging to snapped. “That asshole is blackmailing Grace! This will destroy her and her entire family! You will destroy them!”

  Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

  What the hell had he just done?

  Whitney gasped and covered her mouth.

  “You have to fix this,” he said. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded, and Jeremy saw something in her wide eyes he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. But he recognized it instantly. Because for once he and Whitney Gaines were on the same page. For once, they both felt the same thing.

  Fear.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Grace buried her grin inside her scarf, both to protect herself from the elements and also from onlookers who might think her crazy for standing in front of an empty storefront, a to lease sign in the window, smiling like she was a six-year-old who’d just met Santa Claus himself. By some miracle the store had waited for her. And after tonight, it would practically be hers.

  All the paperwork had been filled out, including the necessary tax forms. Come Monday, WBN would be cutting her a twenty-five-thousand-dollar check. But that almost paled in comparison to what was going to happen in a few short hours.

  Jeremy. She was going to kiss Jeremy. She’d done what she’d set out to do: taken back control of her life. The book was just the catalyst, but she had done the work. She had gotten to know, love, and trust a man without relying on the physical connection. Not that she didn’t know it was there. Because, holy hell, what they did over the phone was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. But she knew there was more to their connection than the physical, and that had been hard to see before. Now everything was crystal clear, and it didn’t matter that he hadn’t said those words again sober. She loved him, and she would tell him tonight. She let out a long breath, condensation forming as her cold breath warmed inside her scarf.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, then spun toward the street to hail a cab. She had a rehearsal dinner to get to. A television spot to appear in. And the love of her life to kiss.

  Not too shabby for a Friday evening.

  A cab neared the curb, and Grace lowered her scarf as she climbed into the backseat so she could tell the driver where to go.

  “Kingston Ale House on Southport in Lincoln Park,” she said. “You know the place?”

  The driver gave her a quick nod over his shoulder and then started the meter running. Almost as quickly as the numbers began ticking, he slapped his hand over a button that made them stop.

  “Wait a sec,” he said, spinning in his seat to face her. “You’re Grace Bailey. Aren’t you?”

  His wild curly hair reminded her of a barista at the hotel back in Madison, where she should be this weekend, but she’d gotten her shifts covered to stay in Chicago for tonight’s event and for Brynn and Jamie’s wedding tomorrow evening. If all went according to plan, she’d be giving up the Madison job altogether, and the thought gave her a pang in her chest. Though she’d only been there a few months, she’d grown close to the cookie-pushing Mrs. Abelli and their therapeutic conversations. Mrs. Abelli knew everything about why Grace had taken on a second job, one that meant giving up her weekends indefinitely. It was so easy to tell her what she couldn’t tell her own parents. To speak about her life—her mistakes—without fear of consequences. She could trust Mrs. Abelli just like she could trust…Jeremy.

  Wait a sec was right. Grace pinched her arm through her wool coat but felt nothing. So she pinched the top of her hand, just to make sure she was alert and in the moment. This was really happening. She’d finally broken the cycle of failed relationships. All she’d had to do was swear off sex for six months.

  “Yeah,” she said, her smile taking its rightful place again once she thought about tonight and the chain of events to follow. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispered to herself—because yes, she was going to break the language cleanse early. She and Jeremy were going to kiss. That was a given. But she would bring him home with her tonight. She would stay with him tomorrow night at the wedding hotel. What was it? The Four Seasons? The W? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t concentrate. Thinking that far ahead—to tomorrow night—now seemed impossible. She would just have to focus on the next few minutes. Maybe on the fact that the cab still wasn’t moving.

  “My girlfriend has been obsessed with your Facebook page. She’s actually threatened me with going on a man cleanse twice in the past week, claiming I’m not as romantic as that bartender in all your pictures.”

  Grace sighed. “The cleanse isn’t a threat,” she said. “It’s a path back to yourself, to figuring out what you really want without any of the other bullshit getting in the way.”

  Remi—that was the name on his badge that was clipped to the rearview mirror—nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I said. I told her that the cleanse was not a punishment but a choice. The road to—”

  “A new you,” Grace said with him in unison. “You read the book?”

  Remi shrugged. “I wanted to see what she was threatening me with. I didn’t expect to find a possible path to enlightenment.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if I’d get that deep about it. But I do know that I need to be at a rehearsal dinner in about fifteen minutes. Think we could maybe…?”

  He spun back toward the steering wheel. “Sorry!” he called over his shoulder as he set the meter running again, then pulled out into the street.

  “No worries,” she said, settling into her seat for the short ride. No worries at all. Tonight was going to be the perfect end to a much-needed break.

  As expected, Kingston Ale House was already a zoo by the time Grace got there. She hurried to the upper deck, the location for the rehearsal, and found the wedding party lining up to practice their walk down the aisle. Jeremy stood, his arm linked with his sister’s, in a Kingston T-shirt and jeans. She glanced down the line of groomsmen and realized all of them were in similar attire. Jamie stood by the bar on the opposite end of the room as wedding party pairs sped through their walk. Brynn stood in the back and off to the side, ready to practice her entrance. She turned and saw Grace.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Brynn said with a grin. “He’ll be in a tux most of the afternoon and evening for me tomorrow. I wanted him to be comfortable tonight, like it’s any other night—except that tomorrow he’ll be my husband.” She gasped quietly and grabbed Grace’s arm, pulling her close. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “Jamie is going to be my husband.”

  Brynn’s eyes filled with what Grace knew were the happiest of tears, and it wasn’t just the unwavering smile on the bride-to-be’s face. It was the whole energy of the room. Grace’s eyes followed the last couple down the aisle, a woman who had to be Brynn’s sister, Holly, and one of the Kingston brothers. She was sure Jeremy prepped her on who everyone was, but it was all a blur. The adrenaline pumping through her made it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the moment she was in.

  A throat cleared behind her, and then she heard a deep velvet voice say, “Excuse me,” in the sexiest English accent, before a man brushed passed her and kissed Brynn on the cheek. “Go get him, love.” He held up a rocks glass filled with an amber liquid and said, “Cheers,” to them both before making his way to a two-top where Annie’s fiancé Wes sat, the two men looking admiringly at their bridesmaids. He was Holly’s fiancé, Will.

  “I know,” Brynn said under her breath. “It never stops being sexy.” Then she took in a sharp breath. “It’s my turn! Crap!” She looked anxiously over the railing and down to the lower level. “My parents were picking up relatives at the airport, and I think there was a flight delay. Grace, will you give me away?”

  Now Grace’s eyes pricked with tears.
It hadn’t hit her yet, the emotional impact of this evening. At the risk of dissolving into a puddle if she spoke, she simply nodded and offered Brynn her arm.

  The two women walked down a short path between the bar tables. Her eyes locked on Jeremy’s, and the sight of his smile took her breath away.

  “Hi,” he mouthed.

  “Hi,” she mouthed back.

  Okay, this was weird, right? She was walking down a makeshift aisle toward a man she’d never even kissed. Grace knew she wasn’t the bride. She wasn’t delusional. But as the reality of the evening hit her, her mind wandered into dangerous territory.

  …to commit to each other without knowing if the chemistry is there between the sheets.

  Great. Now was the time when her mother’s words were going to haunt her? They had committed to each other, and she didn’t even know if they were physically compatible. Dirty talk was one thing, but what if they were a complete mess when they actually had sex? What if she wasn’t meant to find one person whom she could love, trust, and lose her mind with?

  This was ridiculous. Jeremy could do things to her with nothing more than his words. Of course the real thing would be mind-blowing. And yet, something still felt off, like the universe wanted her to pause for a minute and think.

  She got Brynn to the end of the aisle, and as soon as she handed her off to Jamie, she booked right past the rest of the wedding party and into the restroom. She unbuttoned her coat, tearing it off and hanging it over the top of a stall door. Beads of sweat tickled the back of her neck, and she lifted the heavy drape of her hair to fan her damp skin.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” she heard from behind her, but she was bent over the counter, still fanning her neck. “Hey,” Jeremy said again, and she felt strong fingers knead her bare shoulders. She tilted her head up and peered at him in the mirror. His auburn locks were somehow neatly disheveled. He had just the right amount of scruff, and she imagined it scratching her skin as she kissed him. And then she remembered the reason for her panic in the first place.

  The kiss. What came after the kiss? Had she really found what she was looking for with six months of abstinence, or had she simply set herself up for disaster?

  “Talk to me,” he said as he worked out a knot beneath her shoulder blade.

  “You’re really good at that,” she said softly, letting herself melt a little into his touch. “Promise me you won’t try to steal my business,” she teased.

  He smiled at their reflection in the mirror. “No worries,” he said. “I save my massage expertise for you. Besides, it would cut into my whole running a brewery gig. Or I guess half a brewery if I’m just co-owner.”

  His brows pulled together, and Grace realized tonight was as big a deal for Jeremy as it was for her.

  “This is what you want, right?” she asked.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder. His breath was hot against her skin, yet she shivered.

  “You?” he asked, his voice deep and rough.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I mean, yes, that, too. But first I meant the job. The career. Committing to Jamie.”

  He continued working on her tense muscles, and she almost forgot what she’d asked him.

  He shrugged. “It’s the next logical step. Isn’t it? I love this place. I’ve been here since grad school. What else would I do?”

  Fight for something you really want. Not forget that you said you loved me.

  But what if he hadn’t forgotten? What if he was doing what he always did—playing it safe so he wouldn’t get hurt? Because Grace was so in love with him, she was so far outside the safety zone that she wouldn’t get out unscathed if he didn’t feel the same.

  This had nothing to do with sex. She realized that now. She was terrified about what came after the kiss, but not the physical aspect of it.

  Her heart sped up, and she spun to face him, the words pouring out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying.

  “That’s what I mean,” she said. “Are you sure you want the lowest-hanging fruit…or—or whatever just falls into your lap? What if there’s something better out there that’s just not as easy to attain?”

  Because now she was talking about herself. What if that’s all she was—the easiest option?

  He winced and backed away from her, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Jeremy let out a bitter laugh. “You based the entire past six months of your life on someone else’s idea of where you should look for happiness. I base mine on taking life as it comes, seeing where it goes from there. You might not agree with it but…” He ran a hand through his hair, his gray Kingston Ale House tee riding up to reveal a hint of skin, but she couldn’t let her mind wander there. Not now. Not when things had suddenly veered so far off course.

  “I never judged you, Grace,” he said.

  “Jeremy, I—”

  But he shook his head.

  She wanted to explain that wasn’t what she meant. That she only wanted to be sure that he was happy. But there was that little thought in the back of her mind, pecking away at logic and pointing out that she, too, had simply fallen into his life by chance.

  She remembered Whitney’s words from that night she admitted she wanted Jeremy to be the one she kissed tonight. I thought he didn’t have enough ambition or drive, that all he ever aimed for was whatever fell into his lap. She hadn’t thought anything of it, then. But now those words were rising to the surface, poisoning her against what she was so sure was real. She was good enough for now that he wasn’t considering anyone else. But what happened when they weren’t good enough? What happened when someone less complicated wanted to fill her shoes? Would this fictional other woman be worth considering?

  She was losing it.

  “I need to get back out there,” he said. “It’s Jamie and Brynn’s big night. Or I guess, practice for it, anyway. It’s your night, too. So let’s just do this, okay? We’ll sort this all out after.”

  He backed toward the door, but she grabbed his hand before he could get too far away, squeezing it tightly in hers.

  “Jeremy,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— Tonight is just—” But she didn’t have the right words to articulate something very simple and very real. She loved him…and she was afraid.

  He squeezed back, and oh how that small gesture made her want to say screw it to the cameras setting up downstairs, to her public lip-lock. All of it. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and press her lips to his, proving that they were real.

  He forced a smile and tugged at her hand. “It’s almost showtime. You ready?”

  “Sure,” she said, but shook her head. She was supposed to have all the answers by now, and she didn’t feel like she had a single one.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Was there a way to train yourself for drinking a well-aged, thousand-dollar bottle of scotch? It’s not like it was any surprise that Will and Holly’s coming to town for a special occasion—like Holly’s sister’s wedding—meant they’d be bringing the good stuff from across the pond. What was a surprise, though, was how close Jeremy came to getting shit-faced the first time he helped polish off such a bottle. Things weren’t much better this go-around.

  “A gentleman sips his scotch,” Will said, joining Jeremy behind the bar. Kingston’s was closed except for invited guests—those there either for the rehearsal, the broadcast, or both.

  Jeremy swirled his ice through the ebbing liquid in his glass. “Well, Evans, that’s where you and I differ. I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman.”

  Will laughed and held up his glass. “Cheers, mate.” Then he took a gentlemanly sip, while Jeremy drained what was left in his own glass in one long, slow gulp. “I’m sensing some nerves, yes?” Will asked, and Jeremy let out a breath.

  He’d made it through dinner just fine. Everything was casual enough after the wedding party ran through tomorrow’s routine. But it hadn’t given him and Grace any time to talk, let alone iron
out what the hell had happened in the bathroom, before Whitney and her makeup artist showed up, stealing Grace away before dinner had even ended.

  Did she really think he saw her as the lowest-hanging fruit? That he was the guy Whitney painted him to be? He thought Whitney had destroyed him, but hearing Grace talk like that? It was a fucking knife to the chest.

  Still, as Grace waved to him over her shoulder, his breath caught for a second. Her golden waves cascaded down her back to meet the soft material of her sleeveless green dress. When he had first encountered her in the bathroom, he was overcome by the ache in his chest, by what it felt like to open himself up to someone when he’d denied himself for so long. “Yes,” Jeremy finally replied, setting his glass down on the bar.

  “Signing a contract is big,” Will said. “Not something you can really get out of. I should know. I signed away the first several years of my daughter’s life because I couldn’t see what was really important.”

  Jeremy’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t marrying Grace or anything like that. He was just supposed to kiss her and see what—

  Shit. Will was talking about the contract with Jamie. The one sitting on the desk in Jamie’s office waiting for his signature. But even at the eleventh hour, he was dragging his feet because Grace’s words kept chipping away at the confidence that never wavered…until now.

  What if there’s something better out there that’s just not as easy to attain?

  That wasn’t Grace talking. It was Whitney. There was only one reason Grace would have said something like that, and that would be if Whitney got to her. God, she was persistent. But was she right? He’d spent three years dwelling on it, and tonight was proof that that idea of who he might be still got to him.

  “But a contract between friends might be easier to renegotiate down the line, right?” Jeremy asked. “It’s not like Jamie’s asking me to sign my life away. He’s just taking my life’s savings in return for me getting half the profit share for a place where I spend all my free time anyway.”