Mom nods, uncomfortable with emotion but dealing with it admirably. “Sorry. This is all new to me.” She bustles outside, and I follow, swallowing a smile at the thought of how pleased Jack would be to be called a “bad boy” just now.
We return to the table, and Jack raises an eyebrow. I give him a wide grin in return, pairing it with a light shake of my head.
The next hour is a pleasant one. Despite being on our best behavior when we arrived, after the interlude in the bathroom, Jack and I can’t seem to stop touching each other. Little brushes, grazes. He laces his fingers and mine and rests our joined hands on his thigh, staring at me with a look I hope I’m correctly reading as a promise. I find myself half listening whenever Sarah or Monica talks, instead replaying the most sinful bits from last night and today in my mind. Jack Craig’s greatest hits album.
My mom says something, a joke that swirls over my head. I’m too busy watching Jack. He smiles at me, his eyes crinkled in the corners, his dark hair a rich chocolate spiked with light brown in the sun, those bracketing dimples… There is affection in his eyes, and a wanting that spreads warmth through me, thawing a dark place within me I wasn’t really aware was frozen. He’s the opposite of my dad. Kind. He stays. He fights for people. Helps. He’s seen me at my nuttiest, and he still wants me. And there can’t be deal-breakers worse than the ones I’ve already seen out of him. He brushes a strand of my hair over my shoulder and leans down to plant a gentle kiss on my cheek.
It’s a beautiful day.
My phone vibrates. I reach for it, glancing to read the text. My jaw drops.
Jack lifts his hand off the nape of my neck. “Everything okay?”
I gnaw at the corner of my lip, debating telling him. “It’s Avery. He’s wondering what I’m doing this afternoon. Because he’s…um… He and Anna are eloping.”
Jack pushes back from the table. “It was nice meeting you all. We need to go.” He stalks in the direction of the car, and I leap to my feet, weakly explaining why we’re leaving so abruptly.
I hug my mom with a promise to come down again and talk some more, then wave bye to Brian, Sarah, and Monica.
“Wait.” I rush to hop into the passenger side, briefly concerned he might leave me behind if I delay him. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He reverses out of the driveway, sending shells skittering across the street. “There’s no way my sister is marrying your fucking friend.”
31
Silence reigns in the car until we reach the highway and have blasted past a few of the Garden State Parkway’s green exit signs. Then my well of self-control runs dry.
“Your sister isn’t marrying my ‘fucking friend’? Last I checked, they’re consenting adults. And they’re in love. It’sromantic.” I conveniently leave out my own qualms about the relationship.
“It’s not romantic. It’s a mistake.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that. Care to elaborate why you think Avery isn’t good enough for your sister?” I glare at his profile. Just hours earlier, I had my hand on his thigh and was pulling that mouth to mine. Now I want to wrench off the steering wheel and smack him with it.
Jack shakes his head. “This isn’t about Avery. It’s about Anna. She’s done this before. If you knew her goddamn track record… He’s a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, but the thing is, her ego never stops bleeding. If you care about your friend, know that he’s going to get hurt unless I stop this.”
“You don’t know that! Her past is the past, Jack. This time might be different.” I’m not sure the pleading edge to my voice isn’t because I’m trying to convince myself track records aren’t crystal balls.
We don’t speak again for two and a half hours.
I stare out the window, watching the tree-lined highway give way to town views as we near the bridge to New York. I’m worrying the nail on my thumb. I force myself to stop.
“You don’t think Anna’s capable of making her own decisions? Just because of her past?”
I hope the long drive will have given him time to cool down, to let his blood pressure drop. Instead, he nods curtly and says, “Yes. That’s exactly what I think.”
His words initially pinched like a beesting, but the more I roll them over in my mind, examine them, the more the ache grows. Those words, a familiar criticism, echo inside me, taking a wrecking ball to the fledgling hopes I’ve been nurturing.
We stop at a gas station for a bathroom-and-coffee break, and in the ladies’ room, I manage to shoot Avery a warning text that I am en route with a pissed-off Jack.
Jack is waiting for me at the car. I make to pass him by, but he pulls me to him gently and gives me a soft kiss, holding my stiff frame to him. It’s the only semblance of affection he’s shown me since we left Stone Harbor. My eyes well.
“This has nothing to do with you and me,” he says.
“Jack, Avery is the Mother Teresa of my group of friends—the best person I know. He’s perfect for your sister. Give her a chance to prove she—”
Jack pulls away woodenly and opens his car door. The warmth in his eyes from a moment ago is gone, his gaze now cold and glazed over. “I’m not rehashing this.”
I follow him into the car. My tears are gone. Instead, I find myself trying to relax my clenched jaw. “Well, I am. Your shitty attempt to be an unwanted white knight is possibly jeopardizing my friend’s happiness. It’s fucked up.”
