Kate scoffed and arched an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re wrong.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“God, have you actually asked Jesse any questions about us? Do you know the positions we were in before we married them? Because if you did, you’d know none of us started where you seem to think we did.”
Jane hummed her agreement, but she was now rapidly typing something into her phone. Kate’s eyes were still on me as she leaned back slightly. “Is that what you’re so worried about? Not being good enough for this family?”
“Yes,” I said. “How could I not be worried?”
She shook her head. “You clearly don’t know our actual origin stories.”
“Excuse me?” Honestly, that threw me, but on the other hand, I wasn’t as sure of anything anymore as I used to be. “What are you talking about?”
Eliza squeezed my hand again, drawing my attention back to her. “She’s right, you know, but we can get to all of that later. Right now, the only thing we need to know is whether you want to fix it.”
“I think I might’ve pushed him away too far for that to be possible.”
She smiled. “Oh, I know Jesse pretty well at this point and most people’s idea of too far is that man’s starting point. I do have a plan, though. If you’d be interested in hearing it?”
CHAPTER 45
JESSE
When the day of the gala arrived, I was over it long before I was even there. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my cufflinks for the third time like they might help me achieve emotional stability.
On the outside, however, I looked precisely like I was supposed to. The black tux had been tailored to fit like a glove, my hair was actually holding style for a change, and my shoes were polished to within an inch of their lives.
If I was seeing me like this, I would have thought everything was fine, but it wasn’t. Nothing was fine. In fact, everything was very, very wrong, which made what I looked like even more impressive, but I didn’t really give a shit about appearances right now.
For one, I’d failed completely in the actual point of this plan, which had been to overshadow any news involving Zach. I’d set out to take the heat off him and redirect it somewhere less damaging—to me, the reformed playboy who’d turned over a new leaf.
All that inspirational, headline-friendly bullshit, except that the media had taken one look at a few photos from New Yorkand decided that I hadn’t grown at all. I was the same old Jesse to them, back to my usual antics.
It turned out that I couldn’t even fake personal development correctly.Gold star for me, am I right?
Not that I cared about any ofthatright now either. Fuck what they thought.
The reality was that I was heart sick. Totally and completely numb to everything else. I stared at my reflection for a long second, barely recognizing the guy looking back at me.
I should’ve just stayed in my lane.The thought had been on repeat for days.This never would have happened if I hadn’t tried to be someone I’m not. If I hadn’t tried to follow tradition. If I’d left things alone instead.
Fat lot of good it’d done me anyway, trying to be a better version of myself. I’d lost her and myself all in one fell swoop.Go me.
To add to all of that, since this was the first time we were having this gala after my mom had died, it felt like I’d failed her too. Logically, I knew that was irrational, but my emotions were all over the place. There was nothing rational about the storm raging inside me. It just felt like she would’ve looked at everything that had happened and been disappointed. In me. In who I’d turned out to be.
I blew out a long breath, shaking my head. I spun away from the mirror, grabbed my jacket, and left before I could think too hard about just not going at all.
When I finally arrived at the venue, I was late, but I’d gotten so close to not being here that late would just have to be better than never. Alex and Jane had chosen the Old Post Office for the event, a historic Chicago landmark that Jane had said was as timeless as the gala itself. Cool evening air washed over my face when I climbed out of the back of the car Alex had sent to deliver me here. Camera flashes immediately followed.
A red-carpeted walkway led up to the door, but between me and the building was an entire army of press, held back by velvet ropes, but they were all clamoring for my attention, rabid hounds snapping at me like I was fresh meat.
“Jesse! Over here!”
“Is it true you’re back on the market?”
“How many of those girls in New York did you take home that night?”
I didn’t slow down to comment or answer any of the questions, just striding up the carpet with my hands in my pockets and a smirk on my face. None of them needed to know that I wasn’t feeling it. Let them think that they knew me. They already thought that anyway.
