As awoman…
I’d seen photos of her these last six-and-a-half years. Professional photos from high-end shoots for major fashion brands. It was pathetic how often I’d searched her on the web, found new shots of her from some swimsuit shoot or lingerie campaign I hadn’t yet seen, andsavedthem.
None of those photos came close to capturing what I was looking atrightnow.
Jessa’s eyes found mine across the room… and that wide-eyed look of hers went straight tomydick.
Christ.
She turned away, hastily. Then she bent down to give Dolly a hug, giving me a first-rate view of her perfect, heart-shaped ass, and I just about broke another wineglass.
It was fucking official. The woman was trying tokillme.
Wasn’t enough that I was dead to her; she was actually trying toendme.
As I watched her across the room the most fucked up thing was, after being that close to her again—close enough to breathe the same air, close enough to smell her, close enough to glimpse all those colors in her eyes—I’d probablylether.
I put the wine glass down on the bar and stared at my hand wrapped around it, afraid if I let go the whole thing would fall apart. Stared kind of blankly at the tattoo on the inside of my forearm, a single line of runes that readabstinence. A tattoo that only I, or someone who happened to know how to read ancient Germanic runic writing, would understand. And for the life of me I couldn’t remember what it was supposed to mean or why the fuck I had it permanently inked into my arm, other than the fact that it had nothing to do with abstaining from alcohol or any other such substance—and a lot more to do with the goddess across the room in the silk-sorbetdress.
I let go of the wine glass and ordered up a beer from the bartender. Why the fuck was I drinking wine anyway? I didn’t evenlikewine.
Amanda. Amandalikedwine.
My gaze fell to her. She was standing next to me, sipping her wine and watching me over the rim of her glass. It really wouldn’t take a genius to match my line of sight to Jessa Mayes’ ass and Amanda was far from stupid, so I wasn’t even gonna pretend that wasn’t where I was staring for the last halfminute.
“That’s Jesse’s sister, right?” she asked lightly, like what I’d been staring at didn’t bother her at all. But yeah,itdid.
Because perfect, heart-shapedass.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my tone business-neutral. Like,Yeah, that’s the sister of one my best friends, and isn’t that nice she made it to the wedding? I haven’t seen her, or even thought about her, in six-and-a-half years. Have you tried the crabcakesyet?
No idea if Amanda knew me well enough yet to see through that shit. But she smiled softly and the uneasy, suddenly self-conscious look in her eyes made me feel like that much more of an ass. “Maybe you couldintroduceus?”
Yeah. I’d get rightonthat.
“Have you tried the crab cakes yet?” I asked her. “I’ll getyousome.”
Then I took my beer and got the fuck out ofthere.
ChapterThree
Jessa
The rehearsal dinnerwas served at five o’clock sharp; afterward, I was told, both the bride and the groom were being whisked away to their respective stag and stagette party. The food was amazing, the room was beautiful, and my brother wasn’t even pissed that I’d missed the rehearsal. Noonewas.
Which kind of just made itworse.
Both Jesse and Katie were just so thrilled that I was here, I felt like such an ass for everything I’d ever done to make them think maybe Iwouldn’tbe.
I was seated at their table along with Roni, Devi and Grandma Dolly, next to a table with Katie’s family, which consisted of her parents, a sister named Becca, her husband Jack and their two children. Since Jesse and I had no family to speak of, it was truly lovely to see him so embraced by hers. They were warm and friendly people and Becca was hilarious, an older, more boisterous version ofKatie.
But as nice as they all were, as welcoming as they were, as much as they tried to include me in conversation and asked all kinds of genuinely interested questions about me, about my life growing up with Jesse, about my time writing music with Dirty, and about my years as a model, I couldn’t hold up my end of the conversation. I really, really tried. I tried to steer the conversation back to any one of them, any chance I got, to keep them talking, because I simply could not keep up a coherent line ofthought.
How could I, when Brody wasrightthere?
He was sitting across the room with his date, and all I could see was Brody talking, Brody laughing, with people whoweren’tme.
Brody with his serious blue eyes, with the laugh lines permanently etched at thecorners.
