I love falling asleep in his arms and waking up next to him.
Even on the mornings when he has early practice and slips out before I wake up, I can breathe in his scent on the pillows and feel the lingering warmth of his body on the sheets. That feeling goes deeper than any physical intimacy we’ve shared. It’s calm, comforting, and makes me feel safe.
I don’t want to lose any of that.
“Isn’t this ballroom lovely?” Jayce’s mom gushes, yanking me back to my surroundings. She’s gazing around the hugespace with shiny marble floors and obnoxious gold trim along the marbling on the walls and pillars. “I think it’s perfect!”
I do my best not to wince as I gaze around. Ugh, this place is…a lot. Too much, really. The massive chandelier in the center of the ceiling is old-fashioned and gaudy. There’s even a large mural on one wall depicting a ballroom scene that looks straight out of an episode ofBridgerton…minus the diversity, elegance, and overall charm.
What am I supposed to say, though? I don’t want to upset Mrs. Vaughn…she terrifies me. My mother can be overbearing and exhausting, but at least I know she loves me and she’s generally a warm person. The same cannot be said about Mrs. Vaughn. She is…icy. Stone-cold, even to Jayce. Thank God he’s here, because I don’t know that I could handle her alone.
He’s standing next to me, holding my hand, gazing around with a neutral expression and I find myself worrying he’s just going to go along with his mother.
Without thinking, my hand drifts toward my mouth and I catch myself just before my teeth find my nail. I curl my fingers into my palm instead, forcing the nervous habit down.
Jayce notices, because of course he does. His thumb shifts against my lower back, brushing a slow line along my spine. The tiny movement sends a spark of heat straight through me.
He looks unfairly good today too, which really isn’t helping my ability to think clearly. He’s wearing dark slacks and a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders every time he shifts. The open collar reveals the strong line of his throat, and I have to drag my eyes away before I start staring like an idiot.
It’s ridiculous how attractive he is.
Even worse is the way he carries himself here. Calm, confident, and slightly detached from the chaos swirling around us.
I’m so busy trying not to bite my nail again that I almost miss the moment his mother pauses and gazes at me expectantly.
Shit, what am I supposed to say? I can’t tell her that I really don’t like this place…
“Sutton doesn’t like this style,” he suddenly says, as if reading my mind. “We want something simpler. Elegant and understated. I found a vineyard just outside of the city that has a beautiful garden in the summer. I’ve arranged for us to visit it later this week. I think it’ll be perfect.”
I blink at him, stunned. That does sound perfect. It’s exactly the kind of venue I’d want for my wedding.
His mother narrows her eyes. “Oh, is that so? Are they able to accommodate three hundred guests? Do they have valet parking? Real silverware and China table settings? How about…”
“Mother, I’ve worked out all the details,” Jayce replies in a terse tone. “I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I made certain it was an appropriate setting for a wedding like this one.”
Something warm blooms in my chest as I stare up at him. He noticed. He’s paying attention to what Iwouldwant, were any of this real. The realization sends a strange flutter through my stomach. My gaze drifts over him again and I swallow, feeling suddenly hot and tingly. It’s the quiet way he’s standing here, reading my nervous habits and stepping in without making a show of it, that makes my pulse really start to climb.
He knows me.
Fuck, that’s so sexy.
Mrs. Vaughn purses her lips together and appears thoughtful for a moment before nodding.
“All right, fine. I suppose that sounds like it could be acceptable. Very well, let’s get going. We’re meeting with caterers in an hour back at the house.”
With that, she turns and makes her way out of the ballroom without a backward glance.
I stare after her. “What…what just happened?”
Jayce chuckles softly and squeezes my hand. “I got your back. Don’t worry.”
He tugs me along and we follow his mother.
An hour later, we’re seated around the dining table at the Vaughn house while platters of sample dishes are carried in and set before us one after another. The room smells incredible, an enticing mix of buttery sauces, roasted meats, herbs and garlic drifting through the air.
Jayce’s mom is already leaning forward with interest.
“Oh this one,” she says, pointing to the menu. “The braised short rib with truffle mashed potatoes. That would be perfect for the main course.”
