Page 79 of A Perfect Fit

I’m thinking about Jackson.

And trying to resist the urge to glance at his attractive profile every couple of minutes.

Okay, every couple of minutes is a lie. I’m trying to restrain myself from looking at him every few seconds.

The CEO finishes her speech, and we go through several award categories before it’s time to announce the winner of the Excellence in Marketing Award, which is what Jackson’s company’s been nominated for.

I peer at Jackson, who doesn’t look nervous. Still, I give his right hand a squeeze for good luck, and a soft smile spreads across his lips as he turns to me, lacing his fingers with mine.

“And the award goes to … Carter Marketing Solutions!”

A round of applause erupts in the room, and I grin at Jackson, happy for him. “Jackson, you won!”

“Yay! Go, Jacky!” Hilary squeals at the same time.

Bitterness crawls up my spine, but it disappears when Jackson leans forward to kiss my cheek. Heat blooms across my cheeks instead.

Making his way to the stage, Jackson accepts the award plaque and stands behind the lectern. Some people in the audience are standing as they clap.

“You can sit down now,” Jackson jokes, glancing around the audience as he speaks into the microphone. “Someone once told me I have a big ego, so you don’t need to inflate it any further.”

Laughter resounds in the room, and I chuckle, too, knowing very well who he’s referring to.

“I know everyone’s probably looking forward to dessert, so I’ll try to keep this short and sweet, pun intended,” he continues. “Thanks to the award sponsors and judges for this honor. As some of you may know, Carter Marketing Solutions was something my late dad built, and it’s an honor to be carrying on his legacy.” He pauses. “I know he’d be proud of us tonight.”

I think Jackson’s dad would be incredibly proud of his son and the man he’s grown to be if he were here today.

“Thank you to my amazing team for their endless and tireless work. They make the late nights bearable, and I couldn’t have asked for a better team. A big thank-you must also go to our clients for their trust and confidence in us. Their ongoing support is the reason we’re standing here today.”

Flashbacks of Jackson giving speeches in high school in his role as student council president replay in my mind. As much as I hated to admit it back then, he was always an eloquent public speaker, and that hasn’t changed.

However, there’s something else I realize; he’s smiling, but it’s not one of his genuine smiles.

There’s some more applause in the crowd, and Jackson’s gaze lands on me, his expression blossoming with tenderness. “While I have the mic, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank someone else.”

My heart skips a beat. Is he about to thank … me?

“Her name is Isabelle,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine.

My pulse flutters crazily, and I’m unable to look anywhere else but at him.

“She’s one of the most amazing people I know, and whenever I’m with her, I’m reminded of how beautiful life can be. I’m really grateful and happy that she’s here with me tonight.”

“Woo! Go Isabelle!” a random person in the audience calls out, but I’m distracted.

My mind’s racing with a million thoughts, my heart’s pounding like waves crashing against the ocean, and I think I might melt into a puddle and disappear under the table.

I’m not okay.

Because what he just said … did he mean that, or was it simply for show? I want to believe it’s the former, yet there’s a little warning voice in my head that’s telling me not to get my hopes up.

Jackson takes a step back. “Thanks again, and have a great evening.”

Another round of applause erupts from the audience as he makes his way down the stage, and when his eyes lock with mine once more, there’s a smile on his lips that makes my heart melt all over again.

“This is the best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” I say to Jackson, putting another spoonful of my dessert into my mouth. The velvety texture melts on my tongue.

The awards ceremony concluded ten minutes ago, and people are hitting up the dance floor, where a DJ is blasting pop music. Hilary stepped away from our table and hasn’t come back, not that it bothers me.