Page 111 of Love Unspoken

Gemma grinned, tipping her glass in my direction. "I believe that Amara had her own solid Carrie moment."

The parallels were obvious—my unexpected run-in with Lucas at the ball and the way Jax had swooped in like a breath of fresh air in a story that had grown too heavy with drama and tension.

"Maybe I am," I conceded with a wry smile, taking a sip of my wine. "But you know what? I'm okay with that. It's better to be Carrie than Flaubert's Madame Bovary."

Gemma raised her glass in agreement, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Cheers to that."

Basil slid his arm around me, walking me away in the guise of something that needed to be taken care of in the kitchen. He nudged me gently, a knowing look in his eyes. "All okay? You look extra tired today."

I smiled wanly at him. Tired was code for sad. And I didn't want to be sad about Lucas anymore. I really, really didn't.

My misery didn't come from Lucas—not exactly. It stemmed more from trying to be more than friends with Jax, only to have it fall flat. Jax and I had become close over the past four weeks since we first met at the Magnolia Ball. I enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed mine, but we both had to admit there was zero sexual chemistry—just a whole lot of intellectual and emotional connection.

The truth was, and Jax pointed it out as well, I wasn't over Lucas. I dreamed about him every night. When I thought about sex, I thought about him. When I used my vibrator to get off, it was to his voice in my head, his hands on my body.

The thought that he was making love with Kath while I was pining for him filled me with shame.

"Stop worrying about me and just go have fun with our friends." I slapped Basil's shoulder teasingly.

"You're my best friend; I'll always worry about you."

I smiled at him, the warmth of his words a healing thing.

The night air was filled with the sounds of laughter, glasses clinking, and the soft strumming of a guitar someone had picked up in the corner of the garden.

"I know, but not tonight, 'cause Jim brought his guitar. Let's go have fun." I dragged him with me as we joined those who were signing Que Sera, Sera almost tunelessly, but no one cared.

As the song went, "the future will be what it needs to be." It was very apropos. I didn't know what was to come—but I did know that this was my life and not an episode of Sex and The City. My story was my own, and whatever came next, I needed to be ready to face it…without Mr. Big.

But it was easier said than done because I kept bumping into my Mr. Big almost as often as Carrie did in Manhattan, which was considerably larger than Charleston.

My adopted city's charm was its intimacy, but that also meant there was no escaping the past.

A few days after we sent Basil off, my history came crashing into my present in the most awkward way possible, again.

Jax and I had just walked into The Blind Tiger Pub, which was snuggled in a quiet corner of Broad Street, close to my old townhouse and Basil's home. The bar was a perfect blend of old Charleston charm and modern vibrancy, with exposed brick walls, wooden beams, and a lively atmosphere.

I was looking forward to a relaxed evening with my new friend who I'd just gone house hunting with. We'd found nothing Jax liked, but we'd had a whole hell of a lot of laughs.

I made friends with ease, but the relationships were never deep, except with a select few. Jax had wormed his way into my life in a few weeks. Even Basil liked him, and he didn't like anyone outside of academia because he was an intellectual snob. Jax won him over by discussing how he disliked Kant (who Basil revered), and he liked him for it. Go figure! With Basil away in Los Angeles and Jax off the tour, we were spending a lot of time together.

Our plan was to get a couple of drinks and maybe something light to eat before heading to our respective abodes—his, a hotel suite at Restoration Charleston, and mine, still Basil's guestroom.

But life, it seemed, had other plans.

As soon as we entered the dimly lit bar, the unmistakable sound of Shelby Covington-Bellamy's laugh cut through the noise. My stomach twisted in that familiar, uncomfortable way, and I found Lucas, Kath, Shelby, and Flynn, all seated at a high table right in front of us.

Lucas's eyes met mine first. There was a brief flash of something—surprise…or maybe annoyance—before he quickly masked it. Kath was the next to notice me, her expression neutral, though I didn't miss the slight tightening of her jaw. And then there was Shelby, always ready to turn a casual encounter into an Olympic event of passive aggression.

"Jaxon Caldwell, darlin', where have you been," Shelby called out, her voice dripping with that signature blend of condescension and false warmth that I'd come to expect. She rose and gave him a hug.

Jax grimaced. "Shelby."

He shook hands with Lucas and Flynn; and hugged Kath. He nodded at everyone and then turned to me, "I guess you know everyone here, Amara."

"I do." And I'm hugging none of them and getting their bad juju onto me.

Over the weeks, I'd told Jax all about my relationship with Lucas and the sordid way it ended.