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As much as I ache for Jaclyn, I can’t risk this whole thing falling apart. Unfortunately, I also have to play by my father’s rules. My only choice is to put on a show and avoid her as much as possible. Hopefully, everything will be as I left it when I return in two weeks.
“Fine,” I agree, though my teeth are clenched so tightly that my dentist will be putting in molar caps.
“No,” Jaclyn breathes, though I can’t tell why she would be upset. In the end, she gets everything she’s ever wanted. I can’t figure out what her endgame is.
“You have a plane to catch,” my father reminds us, leaving no room to argue.
Jaclyn’s eyes fall to the floor. “Of course.”
Fuck, I hate that she feels the need to be subservient to our fathers. A flash of a memory of waking up to her in my arms dances before me. That’s the Jaclyn I want—the one who gives herself because shewantsto, not because shehasto.
My father ushers Jaclyn and me out of the room. The moment the door shuts, he glances in either direction, keeping an even tone. “Keep your hands to yourselves in private, but you have to sell this in public, just like at the wedding. I’ll send a few friendly media contacts to stumble upon you two. If you see a camera, you need to pretend you’re in love.”
“Are you sure about this?” Jaclyn tries to contest, but she sees the same beast in front of us that I do. We’re both fucked if this goes south.
“Make sure you’re not followed from here. Enjoy your flight, Mr. and Mrs. Blake.” He brushes past me toward the exit, leaving Jaclyn and me in the worst possible predicament.
Two weeks with Jaclyn Taylor… Screw driving the bus, I’m already in hell.
Chapter 14
Jaclyn
The flight to Hawaii is terrible. A storm on the West Coast has created turbulence for an hour, and I keep my fingers interlaced with Alex’s for most of it, easing my nerves. Thankfully, there hasn’t been a single bump for almost two hours since, yet our hands remain joined. I need to use the restroom, but if I do, I’m worried I won’t have an excuse to be close to him anymore. His simple, sweet gesture has kept me from spiraling.
I can’t take it any longer and get up to shimmy past him. After using the bathroom, I sit back down, placing my hands in my lap and looking out the window. Seconds later, he waffles our fingers again, and my heart squeezes as his thumb swipes across mine. My hope is shattered when I glance over, and his eyes haven’t moved from his ereader, expressionless. We’re technically in public on this plane; it’s all for show.
I should be grateful for the large divider between our seats—a literal reminder to keep my distance. Neither of us has spoken more than three words to each other since we left the office building. There are so many things I want to say.
Thank you.
I’m sorry.
I wish things were different.
Why couldn’t it be you and me instead?
I can’t bring myself to tell him any of it.
The flight attendant approaches. “Mr. Blake, may I get you something to drink?”
“Yes,” Alex replies and turns to me. “What would you like?”
Since the wedding, Alex has imprinted himself on my heart with simple little touches—this is one of them. It’s such a small, polite act, but my heart stops at his words, making me stumble over mine. “Um… an Old Fashioned, with an extra cherry.”
A genuine smile appears that reaches his eyes. And, damn, I miss that smile; I haven’t seen it since before we visited Chris. “Make that two,” he tells her, not looking away from me. When she moves on to the next passenger, he whispers, “And what is the special occasion, princess?”
“I’m on my honeymoon with my husband. Isn’t that a big enough reason to celebrate?” I tease, biting back my grin. Unfortunately, his falls. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s going to be a long two weeks,” he sighs, squeezing my hand and releasing it. When he returns to reading, I let out a defeated huff and put my earbuds in to listen to a memoir I started earlier.
While I didn’t allow Chris to go into detail about the accident, I’ve been suspicious about Cara for the past six months. No matter how unfaithful he’s been in the years we’ve been together, it doesn’t give me a free pass to flirt with Alex. I have no right to hold his hand, and I especially have no right to imagine his face between my legs like he suggested yesterday.
Why do I want it? Why do I wanthim?
The flight attendant drops off our drinks, and we both thank her—yet another reminder of how Alex is nothing like Chris. While Chris expects to be serviced, Alex is appreciative. My mind wanders, wondering if that’s true in all facets of their lives. Attending prestigious schools and being elected to the Senate are likely the only things they have in common.
Entertaining the idea would only lead to trouble, but my thighs clench anyway. There’s an ache in my core that’s never been there with Chris. I’ve never had the desire to have Chris touch me or to touch him. The way Alex has treated me in a single day, I find myselfwantingto be on my kneesfor him.
