“Monsieur Jackson, Madame Annabelle, we’re not finished,” Chef Odette calls when she sees us packing up to leave. She must see the look on one or both of our faces, “I’ll box it all up. Come back later for it.” She smiles kindly and rubs my arm.
“Merci,” I whisper, then leave quietly before making a scene.
Pressed against Jack’s chest in his crushing hold, I move us to a hallway that’s out of sight from the hotel patrons.
I curse myself for not anticipating Jack’s feelings of “losing his sister” sooner when I feel his wild heartbeat pumping against his chest, answering my anxious thoughts about whether he’s okay.
He’s stressed out to the max.
We coined Sadie with the Sensitive Sadie moniker, but what outsiders—anyone besides me, Sadie, and maybe Declan—don’t realize is that she took after her brother in that department.
Only, Jack doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve like her. He’s a professional at hiding his emotions from the world.
But one look past his long, thick lashes into those deep green eyes would show you a whirlwind of emotions, and without him even uttering one word, I already know what he’s going through.
Jack turns his attention toward me when we sit on the bench we find around the corner. “I’m well aware it’s beyond ridiculous to have these feelings about my thirty-five-year-old sister getting married, except I never truly stopped to think about it all, how impactful all the changes would be.”
Grabbing his hand, I interlock our fingers, squeezing tight to get his attention.
I want his eyes locked on me when I speak.
“Not one person in this world would fault you for your feelings. The two of you have a unique relationship that most will never experience or even understand.” When he nods in agreement, I continue, “Since the day you were old enough to realize your parents were non-existent in your lives, you stepped up and took care of your sister in ways other siblings never would. You were the mum, dad, brother, best mate, and protector. You comforted her when she was sad, building her up in every way possible. The two of you are each other’s number-one fans. It was always the Peters duo, and now you feel like the band is breaking up in a way. What you need to remember is that Sadie loves you more than life; she’ll never be far from reach. Although she has Wills and a changed surname, there is no doubt in my mind that she’ll never completely stop relying on her brother. It might not be the way it was years ago, but there are some things that only family can help with.”
I reach up to wipe the rogue tear that escapes his watery eyes, letting my hand glide along his chiseled jaw, cupping it to bring his eyes back to me.
“You are a good man, Jackson Peters. The best. Someone I often say I’m proud to know. You have changed my life for the better, and I’ve never admired someone as I do you. I’ve always looked up to you, especially as a young girl. I could tell you were different, even then.”
Startled by my admission, Jack’s mouth opens and shuts a few times before I press my finger to his lips.
Shaking my head, I will him to stay quiet. “There is no need for more words. I only want you to remember that just because your sister is getting married, she will always need you, and you will never be inconsequential in her life.” I hold his stare. “Or mine, Jack. I will always need you…” I gulp down my emotions, not realizing how sentimental I’ve gotten.
He smiles softly, then leans in for a quick peck to my lips.
I have to hold myself off not to deepen the kiss.
I’m the one who said I didn’t want anything between us, but now, he’s all I see.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he mutters, running his hand along my long hair, fingering a loose tendril that’s fallen astray.
He leans in again, this time kissing my forehead, holding his lips for a beat, letting our heightened emotions pass through us.
I can tell he wants to say more, so I’m grateful when he resists.
Sometimes silence speaks so much louder than words.
I take a deep breath and smile when he pulls back, playfully hitting him in the chest. “Stop with all this emotional crap, will you? This is supposed to be a fun day, not a cry fest,” I jest, waving my hand in front of my face to stop any lingering tears from escaping, plastering on a broad smile to help lighten the mood.
He chuckles, then stands, holding out his hand, demanding me to take it. “Come on. I think we could both use a drink.”
I stand up in a rush, happy to put all the crap I just word-vomited behind us.
“Yes! Brilliant idea, Jack. I could go for a glass of crisp champagne right about now.”
There is no more room for depressing or sappy thoughts today.
* * *
“The salon was a good choice over the bars. It has an intimate feel, with red and gold velveteen sofas and wood-paneled walls. Very Downton Abbey-like,” Jack states as he looks around, appreciating the room.
