Page 207 of Wait for Him

Bennet and Joe escorted Jackson back through the door they'd come in through, to the groom's room, I assume. I told Jade to stay and enjoy the reception, and then I bolted like the coward I am. Because what exactly was I supposed to say? Sorry you got jilted at the altar. How about that shagging we've been needing?

Fuck. I think I'm a little tipsy.

I take another chug and consider the fact that I may also be a horrible human being, because I'm sitting here happy that Jackson's heart got broken today. What kind of person is that? What kind of woman watches a bride walk out on the man she loves and has to fight down something that feels obscenely like relief?

Except, and I make myself examine this honestly because that's the bullshit deal I have with myself now, I don't think it's his pain I'm happy about. Watching his face when she pressed that ring into his hand actually hurt. I felt it from the fifth row and wanted to go to him immediately.

It's the door.

I put on my nicest dress and walked into that cathedral to watch a door close forever, and instead I watched a woman I barely know refuse to hold it shut for me.

Which doesn't make it mine to walk through. A canceled wedding isn't an invitation. He just lost a fiancée in front of an audience full of people; the last thing that man needs tonight is the woman his whole disaster orbits around showing up with feelings and champagne breath.

So I fled to a pool instead. Very healthy. Dr. Campbell will be thrilled during our visit next week.

I take another drink and let my legs drift through the lit water while my brain hosts the world's shittiest committee meeting. I'm guilty. I'm hopeful. I'm sad for him. I'm relieved for myself. I still want him so badly it's embarrassing, and none of those things seem interested in canceling each other out.

Fine.

Tomorrow can sort that shit out.

"Fancy meeting you here."

"Ugh. Fuck you, universe!" I hold the champagne bottle up to the night sky. "Now I'm hearing his voice!"

Jackson chuckles behind me. "Nope. It's really me."

I whip around so fast I nearly baptize myself in the pool, and there he is. Jackson. Flip-flops, swim trunks, towel slung over one shoulder, hair down.

Well, hello there, abs. Oh, how I've missed you.

The thought arrives before any of the appropriate ones. Are you okay? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to become somebody's husband an hour ago? All very responsible questions.

Instead: abs. Champagne Rosalie has priorities.

He's watching me have this entire internal event. I can tell because one corner of his mouth is doing that thing.

"You gonna share that bottle, or is this a private party?"

"Get your own." I turn back around and take another chug.

It's my champagne. I stole it fair and square.

"Based on the available evidence, my guess is there's not a lot left."

"Your guess would be correct. But there are three more bottles in the bag on that chair. And I'm not a thief. I was going to pay for them."

He laughs as he crosses the deck, pulls a bottle from the bag, and pops the cork one-handed with a lazy ease that makes my thighs clench underwater where he can't see.

God, I hope he can't see.

"And who exactly did you plan to pay?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead. Why are you being so judgy?"

"No judgment."

He lifts the bottle and takes a long, slow pull, his eyes never once leaving mine over the glass.