Page 22 of When There Was You
Part of me wants to jump off a cliff.
Crawl in a hole.
Drive to Montana and start over.
But all I do is stand there and cry.
Mick wraps me in his arms, his ocean scent coating me like a second skin. “Baby, why are you doing this to yourself?”
All that comes out is a strained, pitiful sob. I clutch him back, no longer angry enough to say the spiteful, ugly, jealous comments initially present.
He rubs my back. “You know there’s nothing I want more than you to be in there by my side, don’t you?”
I nod against his chest.
“But baby, you can’t be here. Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. You know the situation.”
“It just hurts.”
Mick sighs, kissing my temple. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“I needed to see for myself,” I whisper, finally brave enough to lift my head and meet his gaze.
He cups my face, thumbing away my tears. “Did it help?”
Biting my lip, I nod meekly.
“Go home, Jax. I’ll call you in a few hours.”
“Okay.”
“On the Remingtons’ tab,” he adds.
My lips turn up a little.
He kisses me gently, tenderly, as if I’m breakable.I am.“I love you, Jacqueline Hall.” He’s so goddamn sincere it makes me want to cry all over again.
“I love you too.”
His fingers intertwine with mine and he gives my hand a squeeze.
My gaze finds his again, my throat still tight. “Maybe don’t look like you’re having so much fun? Or be so devastatingly handsome?” I wave my hand at his attire. “I may never get over you in this tux.”
His gray eyes graze me warmly, his lopsided smile emerging. “I’m glad it’s doing something for you, because I’m counting the seconds until I can peel off this fucking monkey suit.”
“I’m sure every bridesmaid is also counting the seconds, hoping to be there to witness it.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
Our hands unclasp, and I locate my keys. Wordlessly, Mick unlocks my door and helps me inside. He stoops, gently kissing my lips. “Please drive safe. You’re precious cargo.”
My head bobs as I gulp down fresh tears.
I crank up the Beetle and begin driving away from this closed chapter of my life. Sparing one last glance at Mick in the rearview, my skin prickles. His expression is unfathomable—but foreboding, like a storm trapped in the clouds.
Twelve
Something shifts after Remy’s wedding day. A trace of desperation now exists where Mick and I are concerned, as if we’re on borrowed time, the hourglass flipped with the sand running out.
