Page 88 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

jeanie

Pineapple Tits

“Dex!” I yell.

I chase him, kicking up sand as I pass over the dunes, but lose sight of him as soon as he steps into the chaos of the luau. There are more people than before, like the entire population of Miami has been invited.

For a higher vantage point, I climb onto an empty chair. Farther away, Dex surprises me when he darts around party guests with the light-footed speed of a football running back.

I hop down and try the same maneuvers. Only my pursuit ends with me tackling a waiter. Flat on my back, I wince as six plastic glasses of frozen daiquiris rain over me. I cover my face, waiting for the splatter to settle.

Standing in a circle, people look down at me. They part and Nathan’s face appears. He hooks his arm with mine and lifts me upright.

“Are you okay?” He places his hands on my shoulders and tries to level our gazes, but I’m bobbing around his huge mass, trying to reconnect my line of sight to Dex.

When I spot him again, he slips into the hotel like he’s ready to run back to Chicago. Freddie follows with a fuzzy human-sized crab in tow. At this rate, I’ll never catch him. I groan.

“Jeanie.” Nathan shakes me when I don’t respond.

“Does everything look okay?” I snap and push him away, and he watches me come undone.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Here I am, looking like a crime scene, the exact way Nathan found me a few days ago. Except last time, I was chasing after Roman when I should have been paying attention to my kid. Dex is probably in southern Georgia by now.

My urge is to smother him, but I should give him time to cool down. He’ll be more responsive when he’s had more time to digest what he witnessed. That kiss was one-sided. Roman-sided.

Overwhelmed, I brush off my dress. Flattened cherries, bits of oranges, and green garnish fall to the ground. Icy sugary drinks soak into the fabric. Nathan plucks a red-and-white striped straw from my hair. It’s hard to save face when there’s frozen pineapple sludge sliding between my boobs.

“Talk to me,” Nathan says in a calm, non-judgmental tone.

I rub a palm over my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut.

Why does he have to be so kind, so perfect? It’s so unfair!

He steps closer. “How can I help? Tell me what you need.”

Before I can explain the disaster that’s transpired, Natasha appears at his side. I’d almost forgotten about her existence. Almost.

“Nathan, is this woman bothering you? Should I find security?”

She looks around and waves for the first hotel manager she can find. They come scurrying, but Nathan waves them off.

My brows rise at the size of her ovaries. They must have their own bra down there. She must have seen Nathan help me up. On top of that, he doesn’t even look distressed. He’s dabbing my collarbone dry with a cocktail napkin.

I give Natasha a head-to-toe once-over.

“Natasha, this is my girlfriend, Jeanie. Jeanie, this is Natasha, my agent.” Nathan moves beside me and slips an arm behind my back.

I allow it to remain for now. I’m fully aware it may be the last time he touches me.

“Oh, right! I heard about you. You’re such a good guy, Nathan, helping Jeanie out before you leave,” Natasha says to him and then turns to me. “Are you one of Nathan’s friends’ mom or something? He didn’t explain how you met.”

My brows rise. “Wow,” I deadpan. His friend’s mom.

Scratch that. I was wrong. Her ovaries drag on the ground. If she’s not careful, she’ll trip over them. When she does, I hope she face-plants and breaks her pretty face.

“Natasha, don’t,” Nathan says with a stern voice.