“Thanks, Birdie.”
I reach over and clasp her hand. “You’re welcome. It’s about time I drag myself out of exile, I think.”
“We’ve been waiting.”
I laugh. “Eat your sandwich.”
She sighs dramatically before taking a comically large bite. “Happy?” she garbles.
“Yes. Consider this a preview of what your life is going to be like in the near future.”
“I’m rethinking accepting your offer,” she teases.
“You would never. You love me.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? While you’re stuffing your face?”
She smiles as she picks up a potato chip and pops it in her mouth. “You’re already doing it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jackson leans against the doorway to the bathroom in my cabin, smiling softly as I wrestle with the world’s most stubborn strand of hair. I have a mess of curls pinned at the nape of my neck, and this one refuses to stay put with its friends. Every time I think I’ve finally won, it slips down onto my shoulder, mocking me.
“Behave,” I say as I tuck it into the rest of my hair and pin it again for good measure. “I’ll cut you off if I have to.”
“Surely that offense isn’t punishable by death.”
I turn and playfully narrow my eyes, brandishing a pin in Jackson’s direction like a knife. “You have some nerve coming in here and cracking jokes when I’ve been working on this for hours, and it takes ten minutes or less for you to look like…that.”
He’s effortlessly gorgeous as usual, looking like a model in a perfectly fitting suit and a crisp white shirt. His purple silk tie is a sentimental addition, a gift from a lovestruck, 18 year-old me.
I turn back to the mirror and push in a fifth—and final—pin just to make sure that nothing short of an earthquake makes a single hair fall out of place. Jackson walks up behind me and slides his arms around my waist, resting his hands just above my belly button.
“You’ve only been in here for twenty minutes, and you’re gorgeous.” He presses a kiss against the side of my neck. The contrast of his scratchy stubble and soft lips makes me sigh as I melt against him. “I like your hair like this.”
He reaches for a tendril, and I gently smack his hand.
“Mess this up and there will be hell to pay.” I turn in his arms and kiss him properly, disregarding the well-being of my painstakingly applied lip gloss.
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
“You look handsome,” I tell him, sliding my hands across his shoulders to straighten his jacket. “I love this tie. Whoever bought it for you has excellent taste.” I bought it for him to wear to some banquet we went to at the end of our freshman year, back when his idea of formal wear was a clean polo tucked into his nicest pair of jeans.
“It’s my lucky tie. Always has been.”
His sentimental grin is a sight that makes my sappy heart skip a beat. I glide the backs of my fingers across his cheek, smiling when he leans into my touch.
“It’s good to see you. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all day.” I mean it to be much more lighthearted than it comes out.
Jackson quickly shakes his head and his forehead crinkles. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Liar,” I tease. “It’s because we’re leaving tomorrow, isn’t it? We should probably talk about that.”
He closes his eyes and nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah, we should. Later, after the party.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
The air between shifts into something suffocating and awkward, taking up all the space in this tiny bathroom. I know I’m not going to like whatever he has to say. If it was good, we’d be making plans for what comes next, and even though he’s right here, he’s slipping away from me again.
It feels like this whole weekend hasn’t been the beginning of a second chapter for us, but a tacked-on edit to the first. Like a lovely souvenir that gives us a happier ending, one that the two of us can look back on fondly that eases the ache of our breakup.
A week ago I would’ve been fine with that. Now, I think my heart is breaking.
Pushing him only made him retreat in the past, so I have to be careful here. Do I tell him I think we’re worth saving? That I want to try again? That we can make this work if we both want it badly enough?
I want it. Maybe Jackson doesn’t. Maybe I’ve been misreading everything.
Jackson traces the neckline of my dress with his finger. It’s a chiffon wrap, black with white polka dots.
“I like this one,” he says, nuzzling my nose with his. “You wore one like it to my parents’ twenty-fifth. Do you remember?”
I shake my head. I think I’ve probably blocked it out. I changed into scrubs at the hospital and left that bloody dress in the trash where it belonged.
“You got ready with my mom at the hotel, and I still hadn’t found you by the time she made her big entrance with Dad. I was on edge that night, worried about school, thinking about how much time we’d have to put in until we could leave without being rude. I had everything on my mind but celebrating my parents’ marriage, which was worth celebrating considering they nearly lost it all…after.”
He winces and shakes his head, then blows out a long breath.
“I was about ready to crawl out of my skin,” he continues. “Then you walked into the room. I couldn’t even see you, but I could feel you there. The world slowed down to a manageable pace, and everything shifted back to where it belonged. You’ve always just…made everything make sense. When I looked up, you were standing in the doorway, talking to my uncle. He said something that made you laugh, and I thought…that’s it. I want to make her laugh for the rest of my life. I want that sound to be the last thing I hear.”
I gulp down the aching lump in my throat and blink back the tears that are burning my eyes, threatening to fall.
They’re lovely words tinged with unimaginable sadness.
“Jackson,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say.
“When my body was in agony, when it hurt to breathe, when I didn’t think I’d ever get up and walk again, I thought about you in that dress. I remembered your laugh, the way your smile lights up your whole face.” He takes my hand and places it over his thundering heart, thumping wildly beneath my fingers. “You’re the one who’s always kept this thing going. I hope you know that.”
A tear slips down my cheek as I cup his face with my free hand. “I love you, Jackson. I wouldn’t be me if I’d never met you.”
He smiles. “I love you too, Bird. I never stopped. I don’t think I ever could.”
“Then why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”
Jackson rests his forehead against mine, still clutching my hand to his chest. His kiss is soft and reverent, soul-shatteringly tender.
“C’mon,” he says, twining our fingers as he leads me out the door. “We’re gonna be late.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The party is in full swing, the champagne flowing, the music playing, the guests mingling. Forty-five of Miranda and Mateo’s nearest and dearest are in attendance, and Ayanna pulled out all the stops. Additional lighting was installed throughout the property, and the work was just completed this morning. Well lights illuminate some of the trees around the perimeter of the main house, bringing the landscaping to life.
Edison-style lights are strung across the patio and down along the stone landing that surrounds it, creating an intimate, festive atmosphere. Hightop tables are peppered everywhere, giving guests places to put their drinks as they chat. The waitstaff Ayanna hired navigates the crowd with precision, making sure everyone gets their fill of the kitchen’s spectacular tasting menu.
Music flows through speakers mounted to the back of the main house. Audrey, Ayanna, Miranda and I made a playlist a few days ago, sneaking in a couple of boy band ballads into the mix just to see if anyone would notice. The guests seem
to be having too much fun to care, but every time one of those songs shuffles into the playlist, we find each other in the crowd and share knowing smiles.
Jackson and I stick together at the beginning of the party. He keeps his hand resting low on the small of my back while we catch up with old friends from college. It’s nice having him by my side, but eventually we separate when he gets lured into a very intense discussion about going in with a group of friends and buying season tickets for the Caps.
I break away from him with a quick kiss, and search for Ayanna to let her know how amazing the party is.
It doesn’t take me long to find her, mainly because she’s on the far end of the deck, perched on the section that’s elevated a couple of steps and offers her the best view of the crowd. She watches over everyone like a shepherd guarding her flock, ready to intervene if anything goes wrong. Luckily for her, all her planning and stressing out has resulted in everything running like clockwork.
I step up behind her, and she doesn’t even notice. She’s trying—and failing—to look casual.
“The party’s going great.”
I startle her so badly the champagne flute she’s holding nearly tips over, sending half of it sloshing onto the floor.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she says, pressing her hand against her chest. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately. We’re gonna have to work on it if your goal is to keep my stress levels down when you come to stay.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out and rubbing her upper arm, hoping that it’s comforting. “You can relax, though. Everyone’s having a great time, especially Miranda and Mateo, which is what really matters.”
She looks to her right and spots them on the patio, talking to Miranda’s parents. “Mateo doesn’t look like he’s having the best time right now.”
I laugh. “Poor thing.”
“Miranda’s mom seems to be enjoying herself, so that’s a plus.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “Although…the botox probably prevents her from expressing her displeasure.”
“Trust me, if she was displeased she’d find a way to let you know.”
“That’s true,” Ayanna replies with a sharp laugh. “Oh god, she’s looking over here.”
Evelyn—Miranda’s mom—motions for Ayanna to join them.
“Ugh,” she sighs. “Speak of the devil. She’s summoning me.”
“Godspeed,” I reply, clinking my champagne glass with hers. She downs her liquid courage in one big gulp.
Audrey steps up beside us and shoves half a crostini in her mouth. “These are amazing, I want to marry the chef. Have you had one?” she asks me.
“Not yet.”
Audrey turns to Ayanna. “Why are you drinking like it’s the last chance you’re ever gonna get?”
“Evelyn has requested her presence.”
Audrey pulls a face, then takes a look out at the crowd. “I can’t tell if she’s enjoying herself or not. She should talk to her dermatologist about that.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Rude. But true.”
Ayanna smiles. “Do I have anything in my teeth?”
“You look perfect,” Audrey tells her, and I agree.
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!”
Ayanna walks off with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner being led to the gallows.
“Maybe she loves the party and wants to tell Ayanna that she’s gonna tell all her socialite friends to plan parties here too?”
That surprises me. “Look at you, all optimistic.”
Her responding smile is small, but honest. “What can I say? You got me thinking about things in a different way. Maybe Evelyn’s Ayanna’s one person.”
Evelyn’s an ice queen most of the time, even where her own daughter’s concerned. Her being the person to put Ayanna on the map never would’ve occurred to me. “Maybe she is.”
“You know rich people love spending time in the sticks if they think it’s something special. Ayanna could call it a ‘bespoke countryside experience.’ Once people know there are highly rated wineries nearby, they’ll be lining up.”
I laugh. “We should make sure Ayanna mentions bespoke countryside experiences on her website.”
“On the other hand,” Audrey says, narrowing her eyes. “If Evelyn’s complaining, then…”
“We’ll have no choice but to ruin her.” Even my most menacing voice sounds like a joke.
Audrey gives me a courtesy laugh and flags over the crostini waiter. She snags one for herself and one for me before proclaiming him, “My hero.”
He winks at her as he walks off. I take a bite, and…I gotta admit. It’s good. Amazing, even. I’m about to ask Audrey if she thinks she can flirt the guy into giving us a whole tray of our own when she gasps and hides her face with her hands.
“What’s going on?”
She turns her back to the crowd, huddling closer to me like I can make her disappear. “No one told me Sawyer O’Donnell was going to be here,” she says frantically.
“He loves M&M. Of course he’s here.”
I look around and see him standing a few groups over. I don’t even know how Audrey spotted him; he’s nowhere in her line of sight. Her finely-honed enemy radar must be operating at its peak.
Sawyer and Audrey have known each other almost their whole lives. Their parents are good friends, and once upon a time, they were too. That’s the story, at least. I’d have to see it to believe it.
He went to JMU with us, much to Audrey’s dismay. He was never a huge part of our group, but Sawyer, Jackson and Mateo were friendly, so we did spend some time together. I’ve always liked him, although he and Audrey do have a way of pushing each other’s buttons. She never would tell me what exactly happened between them that made everything so intense, but the way I see them looking at each other sometimes when they think the other one isn’t paying attention…there’s definitely more there.
I think they’d be cute together if they could just stop antagonizing each another.
“He is incapable of loving anyone but himself,” she says. “He’s awful.”
“He’s really not.”
She glares at me, but the look flashes into a small panic when Sawyer walks in our direction.
“Birdie,” he says, moving in for a hug. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a while. You look good; I hear you’re doing well.”
“I am. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve got a job, I’m alive. Can’t complain.” He turns to Audrey. “Hey Red. You had a two-hundred pound tumor removed since the last time we saw each other. Congratulations.”
Audrey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well…I can’t say I miss the dead weight. Tell Tom I said hi at the next Assholes Anonymous meeting.”
“If you know our membership, we’re not exactly anonymous.” He winks at Audrey, which I know pisses her off. They never have been able to resist baiting each other. “Now that you’ve cut off the dead weight, I feel like it’s my duty to tell you that’s a great dress. Green’s your color.”
“You’re being…nice?” Audrey dramatically cranes her neck, looking up at the night sky. “Is there a bucket of pig’s blood about to drop on me?”
Sawyer grins. “What, I can’t offer you a compliment?”
“You usually don’t. Are you in trouble? Are you buttering me up to ask for one of my non-essential internal organs or something?”
“Not yet,” he says with a laugh. “But I’ll keep you in mind if the need arises.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence passes. Sawyer stares at Audrey, and I’m not sure if she realizes it, but she stares right back.
Sawyer is the first one to break the silence. “I guess I’ll go slither back under my rock,” he says, teasing. “Birdie, it was good to see you. Red…” His eyes graze her body, and Audrey is completely oblivious to the look in them. “Seriously, that dress.”
He smiles at her before he walks away, and she lets out a frustrated sigh. “He thinks he’s so
slick, acting like that after he rubbed my nose in being single.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Were we just present for the same conversation? “That’s not what he did.”
Audrey rolls her eyes. “You like him, so you’re biased.”
“You dislike him, so you’re biased. I’m glad you broke up with Tom too, am I rubbing your nose in it?”
She ignores me. “It would be a lot easier for me to hate him if he didn’t look like that. Now I just want to…to do dirty things to him and smack him after.”
“Maybe he’s into that.”
Audrey makes a disgusted face, but her cheeks burn bright red. “I’d rather not think about that right now. Or…ever, actually.”
Sure, sure.
“I can flag down the crostini waiter if you think that’ll help you recover.”
She smiles. “I think I need to pace myself.”
I look out at the guests to see if I can spot Jackson, but I don’t see him. I do see Ayanna in the middle of what looks like a tense conversation with Miranda’s mom. I nudge Audrey and nod in their direction. “I think we have trouble.”
“Shit,” she sighs. “Do we need a distraction? We need a distraction.” She swipes an hors d’ouvres spoon off a passing waiter’s tray and starts tapping it against her glass. It takes a few seconds for the guests to catch on and pay attention.
“Hey, everyone,” she shouts nervously. She’s never been very comfortable with public speaking. “I’d like to make a toast.”
* * *
Since the B&B is out in the middle of nowhere without enough cabins to accommodate all the guests, the party doesn’t go very late. Audrey, Ayanna, Jackson and I give short, heartfelt speeches wishing M&M nothing but a lifetime of love and happiness. Then we mingle some more, and the crowd starts thinning out.
The last to leave—predictably—are Miranda’s parents. Evelyn has nothing but genuinely nice things to say about the whole affair, and leaves with a promise to call Ayanna to ‘book some events.’ I have no idea what exactly that entails, but I plan on interrogating Ayanna about it once she’s had a chance to unwind.
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