Page 54 of Playing for Keeps

“Jen.” A hand fell lightly on my back, another sweeping my hair out of my face. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, I wondered if I’d died and gone to heaven. Or if I’d lost consciousness and this was all a dream. Because for the first time in over a year, Vinny was at my side, tending to me, touching me, looking at me like he cared.

My cheeks warmed, my vision impeded by stars instead of tears. “I’m okay,” I said, breathless, as he took my hand and helped me to my feet.

He didn’t let go, instead holding onto me as he asked, “Are you sure? Do you need some ice?”

“No, I’m... I’ll be alright.”

“You okay, pum’kin?” Dad asked, stepping close and taking my arm, his presence causing Vinny to pull away.

My head nodded but my heart rebelled. I would be okay, but I needed to talk to Vinny first.

My assurance that I was okay was taken as fact, and everyone moved on as if I’d never faltered. The priest said his final words. Frankie thanked everyone for coming, even pausing her gaze on her cousin where he stood too far away for me to catch another glimpse of his smile. Then Corey reminded us of how to get to the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner would be held before we dismissed.

Before I had a chance to break away, Mom and Dad were ushering me into my coat and to the car. The two of them prattled on about the wedding, but my mind was someplace else.

I waited at the restaurant. Waited around the edges for Vinny to show up. When the waitress started taking drink orders, Dad waved me over to the table to sit. I ordered my beer with my attention on the door to our private room, then nearly leapt from my chair when I saw him pass right by the door without coming through.

“I have to go,” I murmured as Mom turned to me in that same instant, and I tried to keep my feet steady as I rushed from the room. The restaurant wasn’t as packed as it would likely be later in the evening, and I could see through the crowd that Vinny wasn’t there. I took a chance, heading toward the bathrooms, and found him standing near the wall at the far end of the hallway.

The sight of him froze me in my place. Not because my heart clenched or my breath hitched or the million things I wanted to say felt heavy on the tip of my tongue.

No.

I froze because he wasn’t alone.

Standing in front of him, back pressed against the wall, was an absolutely gorgeous woman with long, black hair. That hair was ruffled in a way that was familiar. The way my own would have looked had Vinny dug his hands into the strands as I sucked on his cock. Her skirt was rumpled, her shirt askew. And her pretty eyes looked heavy, sated, when she turned them my way.

Clutching my mouth with my hand, I rushed into the women’s bathroom and locked myself in a stall. Tears fell from my eyes, dripping down my chin and hitting the floor in a quiet plop. I leaned against the wall, face buried in my hands as every last hope and dream I’d held onto finally slipped away.

I didn’t want to believe the stories.

I didn’t want to believe it when they said Vinny traipsed all over the globe, chasing girls and falling in and out of love.

I wanted to believe that his kind, generous heart had only beat for me. That what we had was special, and if only I begged for forgiveness, the man would once again be mine.

But the image in my head told me that couldn’t be true. Not the way he had that woman caged in against the wall, the way his hand dug into the skin on her shoulder and her hands fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. His head had been leaning in, and it wasn’t in my power to stop the image in my memory from progressing into something more.

Into him kissing her, sucking her skin, fucking her up against the wall the way he’d so often done to me.

“Jen, sweetie? You okay in there?” Mom’s voice was quiet, worried, as the door to the bathroom swung shut.

Grabbing some toilet paper from the roll, I swiped at the mess of tears on my face. “Yeah,” I told her, but it came out gruff and weak.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel so good, Mom,” I said, pushing out of the stall and clutching my gut, grabbing at the lie that would be the easiest to dispense. “My stomach’s upset.”

“Oh, Jen.” Mom pulled me into her arms, rocking me back and forth as if I were just a child. And though it didn’t take away my pain, it made me feel better that at least someone, somewhere in the world, cared. “You going to be okay to eat, or do you need to go home?”

Home.

I needed to go home.

Tears welled again, but I blinked them back. “If it’s okay, I’d really like to go.”

She cupped my cheek, giving me a sad look. “Do you need your dad and me to take you?”