“Like your mother,” I observe, remembering what Jess has told me.
Garrett looks impressed. “She told you about Mom?”
“Some. I know how much she influencedJess.”
“She doesn’t talk about Mom with just anyone.” Garrett studies me over his scotch. “You must be something special, Carmichael.”
Austin said the same thing, and the weight of his approval feels significant.
Later, as the game winds down with the Devils ahead by two, Jess leans against me and lays her head on my shoulder. The documentary crew has moved to capture fan reactions, giving us a rare moment of privacy.
“Having fun?” she asks, her voice soft.
“More than I expected,” I admit, playing with her fingers. “Your family is great.”
“Even Garrett, with his interrogation techniques?”
“Even Garrett.” I find myself running my thumb over her knuckles, memorizing the feeling. “I like it here. With them. With you. It feels…right.”
The admission surprises me almost as much as it seems to surprise her. I’ve never been one for sentimentality, always keeping relationships at a safe distance, but sitting here, surrounded by her family, watching her in this element, I’m seeing pieces of Jess that I never knew existed, and I want more. I want all of it.
“Your dad said something earlier,” I continue quietly, “about never seeing you this happy with anyone else.”
Her body tenses slightly before relaxing. “Dad’s got a romantic streak a mile wide.”
“Is he wrong, though?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
She looks up at me, her expression unguarded in a waythat makes my heart stutter. “No,” she says finally. “He’s not wrong.”
The moment stretches between us, with neither of us wanting to be the first to break the silence. I’m struck by the realization that four months ago, I was perfectly content with my meticulously ordered life. Now I can’t imagine going back to that solitary existence.
For the first time in my life, I’m thinking about a future that has nothing to do with career goals or familial expectations, but just the simple, terrifying possibility of waking up next to the same person every day. A person who challenges me, frustrates me, and somehow makes everything in my world sharper, more vibrant, more real.
“Grant’s end-of-summer party in the Hamptons is next weekend,” I say, changing the subject before we venture into territory too dangerous for a public setting.
“I know. Blair’s already planning our annual trip. We usually stay at Brandon’s family's place.” She sits up straighter. “The documentary crew won’t be there. Grant doesn’t allow filming at his private events.”
“I know.” I take a breath. “I was hoping you’d stay with me at Grant’s guesthouse. I can meet you there when your flight gets in.”
The question hangs between us. This is more than our arrangement requires. I’m asking her to share a space with no cameras or witnesses for an entire weekend. The crowd erupts as the Devils clinch the win. In the commotion, Jess leans close, and her lips brush my ear.
“Just us sounds perfect,” she whispers.
thirty-one
. . .
Jess
“So,you’re telling me that you voluntarily chose to stay with Lucas at Grant’s instead of here with us?” Blair raises an eyebrow as she tosses another bottle of sunscreen into our shopping basket.
I roll my eyes but can’t quite suppress my smile. “It’s more convenient. The party runs late.”
“Mm-hmm,” Sophia hums knowingly, examining a display of local honey. “Convenient. That’s what we’re calling it.”
Blair, Sophia, Stella, and I have escaped the testosterone-heavy atmosphere of Brandon’s beach house for a grocery run. The house is gorgeous, all weathered shingles and panoramic ocean views, but with Brandon, Wyatt, and Jake debating the merits of various grilling techniques, we needed a break.
“I don’t know why you’re both looking at me like that,” I protest, grabbing a box of crackers. “Lucas and I are married. Staying together shouldn’t be news.” I look back to make sureStella isn’t in earshot. The guilt creeps up my neck. I feel terrible lying to her.
