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While there is a small chance Lisa caught the tail end of the exchange, based on her genuine smile, we should be in the clear. “We’d like to begin the reception, whenever you’re ready.” Her sweet demeanor calms everyone, except Jaclyn.
“We’re ready.” Jaclyn slides her hand into mine, and an unfamiliar warmth fills my chest. Her voice is delicate and demure—not the Jaclyn I knew in college.
“Perfect. Let’s begin, shall we?” Lisa turns on her heel, and the three of us follow her to the outdoor reception with my father’s secret service in tow behind us.
It’s entirely too warm to hold this outside, but it’s still beautiful—lavender flower arrangements and crisp white linens adorn each table, strings of soft lights illuminate the ivy climbing the walls, and a four-piece orchestra plays quietly in the corner.
It would’ve been nice to have them play during the ceremony, and the lavender doesn’t feel like Jaclyn.
This whole wedding feels like something my mother put together. If it were up to me, it’d be on the beach, just the two of us, the fragrant gusts of ocean air, and…
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about this.
Jaclyn stiffens as we’re announced. I keep her hand firmly in mine, squeezing once as I tell her softly, “You’re perfect. Just follow my lead.”
Everyone stands, and polite applause muffles the music. I lead her onto the dance floor and she whispers, “We’re not supposed to do the first dance yet.”
I lift Jaclyn’s hand above her head to spin her, and she lets out a small laugh, her dress twirling a second longer than she does. She moves with grace, practically floating. Snaking my hand to her lower back, I splay my fingers on the smooth satin and bring her close—avoiding keeping her flush with me. As she rests her free hand on my shoulder, I can’t seem to look anywhere except her captivating blue eyes, completely entranced.
“We shouldn't be dancing, Alex,” she warns.
With a light laugh, I pull her an inch closer. “Who the hell cares? Why not have a bit of fun?”
Swaying her in a small box-step, I overhear someone saying, “I didn’t know Chris could dance.”
Jaclyn looks up at me, stifling a giggle, and my eyes widen. “He doesn't know how?”
“Chris is a horrible dancer.” A playful smile dances on her lips. “I was really worried about our first as husband and wife, especially with everyone watching.” Cupping my neck, she pulls me closer, her cheek brushing mine. I love and hate how good it feels to have her in my arms.
Camera flashes come from all directions, and I press a gentle kiss to her cheek. She hums in response; my heart squeezing at the sound. I shouldn’t enjoy having her pressed against me, the scent of her citrusy perfume, how her hand fits perfectly in mine…
“I’m sorry. For all of this,” she sighs, pulling me from thoughts I absolutely shouldnotbe having about my brother’s wife.
Is she his wife? Or is she mine?
I could tell her, ‘It’s fine,’ but none of this is. I’m caught up in a fantasy that can never be. I need to remind myself over and fucking over that even if she weren’t married to my brother, we would never work.
When we were younger, I wanted to end regulations on rainwater collection, while Jaclyn was focused on how to create additional tax breaks for oil companies and billionairesin the name of trickle down economics. We’re quite literally oil and water. If she’s elected to office, I can only hope she won’t cling to her father’s policies and will listen to both sides of the aisle to unite the country.
If we’re so wrong for each other, why am I still so drawn to her after all these years?
The song ends and I close my eyes, resting my forehead on hers to give the photographers the perfect shot. After a few brief moments, I tilt my chin and press a kiss to her forehead, and that damn sighed hum of hers seeps into my heart again.
Needing to be out of her personal space immediately, I take her hand and lead her to the sweetheart table set for us. As I pull her chair out, I resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck when I push it in. I hate that I’m desperate to know how she tastes and how, if it was just the two of us, I’d be on my knees in an instant.
No.
She’s. Not. Mine.
Chapter 6
Jaclyn
Igasp as I feel a ghost of a kiss on the side of my neck. When I glance behind me, Alex isn’t touching me. No one is. He takes a seat next to me, and I’m grateful that the small round table allows for extra and much needed space between us.
My bouquet is displayed in the middle of our table, and it's truly the most uninspired arrangement I’ve ever seen—white and lavender roses bundled with satin ribbon, not a single sprig of green to be seen. Small tealights flicker on the table, highlighting the polished silverware and pewter charger. I would have preferred a simpler place setting with no charger. Sadly, I was outvoted by my mother and Mrs. Blake. More reminders of how this isn’t truly my wedding.
A server sets two glasses of water in front of us, and I anticipate Alex to launch straight into ordering a stout—just like his brother. Instead, he thanks the server andgestures to me. I’m caught off-guard, taking a moment too long to respond.
