Page 67 of All Bets Are Off

Jameson straightens up in front of me, hands on his hips. “Not quite that exciting,” he says, then goes on to explain: “I’m a project manager at a healthcare company. Currently my team builds the software hospitals use to manage patient records, and mostly I handle the big picture stuff. Coding was my specialty at first, so I still jump in now and again when the engineers need backup.”

“Oh, wow. So when I become a registered nurse one day, the systems I use at work could be systems you created?”

He flashes me a gorgeous smile. “Yes, possibly.”

“Okay, so you can’t come for the photo op at the Vegas sign, but . . .” I smile sweetly at him and bat my lashes, hoping I look cute and endearing enough for him to agree to my request. “You know the big observation wheel? We’re going for drinks on that later. Will you make it? I have your number now, so I can text you the details of when to meet us—”

“Careful, Evie,” Jameson warns, wagging a finger at me. “It’s starting to sound like you actually want me around. What will everyone say when I gatecrash yet another activity? I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep on convincing them you’re appalled by my presence.”

I pout my lips at him. “I’m pretty sure Addy already figured I was happy to have you around when she caught us making out at the pool party and then I ran off with you. Trust me, everyone would have more questions if you didn’t show up again.”

“In that case, text me the details.”

“Yay!” I cheer, jiggling my shoulders in an embarrassingly excited little dance, and Jameson laughs. Suddenly, I feel kind of shy, like I’ve exposed all my cards. I don’t want him to know I like him this much . . . I push back the sheets, step out of bed in just my bra and panties, and grab my clothes from the floor. “I better get ready and leave you to make your work calls.”

As I get dressed, Jameson’s gaze travels the length of my body. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s checking me out—just stares, eyes brooding. Once I’ve stepped back into my clothes, I move toward him, press my hand to his chest, and bring my mouth to his. We sink into a deep kiss. A goodbye. He tastes like mint toothpaste and smells like cologne.

“I’ll see you later, baby girl,” he murmurs against my lips.

And shit, that’s how I know I’m in deep—because that God-awful pet name actually turns me on. I feel the butterflies in my stomach and the heat between my thighs. With a dramatic groan, I roll my eyes, push him away, and head for the door.

28

Adelaide

As I ease into consciousness, I become aware of Liam’s arms locked tightly around my body, holding me close. We always fall asleep like this, snuggled up together, before rolling over to our respective sides for the night. Somehow, we always find our way back to one another as the sun rises.

Liam nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck when he senses me stir. “You awake, babe?”

“Mmm.” I reach up to rub my eyes, slowly peeling them open to reveal the hotel room around me. I’m facing Connor’s bed, but it’s empty. “Where’s Connor?”

“He left a half hour ago to hit the gym downstairs.”

I stare at his bed, suddenly wide awake. I think of the way, in the middle of the night as Liam slept soundly, both Connor and I were restless and struggling to sleep. Through the darkness, we just looked at one another across the small space between the beds. Not a single word was whispered, but the anguish in his brown eyes told me everything he wanted to say and more. It was a plea—Please, Adelaide.

I felt trapped, quite literally, between a life I know is so wrong for me and a life full of the unknown. Things aren’t good with Liam right now. There’s a glass ceiling at Hartman & Sinclair holding me back. I’m losing touch of who Adelaide Sinclair really is beneath the brave façade I put on. But those are things I can fix. In time. If I left Liam . . . left the company . . . I would be walking headfirst into the unknown, and I’m not sure I can take such a risk. What if life got worse?

But then I’d catch Connor’s gaze through the dark again and think of the butterflies in my stomach when we kissed, and I’d wonder: What if life could be better? What if I could have everything I ever wanted? What if the bad decisions are really the right ones?

I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away the memory of Connor’s mouth against mine last night, and twist around in Liam’s arms to bury my face into his chest instead. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better than I deserve,” he says, “but I think I’ll still take it easy today. I don’t want any tequila shots anywhere near me.” He laughs, his chest vibrating against my head, and I hate that his laugh makes me want to physically recoil from him. He’s my fiancé, the supposed love of my life—his laugh should be my favorite sound in the world. But it’s just . . . not. Not anymore.

When I think about it, there’s not much about Liam’s personality I do like. He’s thoughtful, sometimes, and he still takes me out on formal dates every few weeks to keep the romance alive. He has a great relationship with my parents. Engages with small kids in public. Always touches base with me about our plans for the future to ensure we’re both on the same page. But he’s also short-tempered. He cares way too much about his image and therefore mine too by association. Despite sharing the same dreams for our careers, he intentionally prevents me from achieving mine.

And then I think something I have been trying not to think for a very long time.

Liam Hartman holds me back.

My throat feels dry—I blame dehydration after too much alcohol yesterday and absolutely not my anxiety. When I gulp, it feels like I’m swallowing knives. The feeling of his arms around me, touching me, makes my skin crawl. Suddenly, I can’t stand to have him anywhere near me. I am utterly appalled at the thought of him.

“Where’s my phone?” I murmur, pretending to search through the sheets to find it, then extracting myself from his grip. The oversized T-shirt of his I slept in drapes me like a dress as I step out of bed. I grab my phone from the bedside table and squint at my screen as the brightness hurts my eyes.

There’s a ton of messages. My mom asks how things are going, if I’m having the most amazing time, if Evie is behaving (no). Melissa has let me know she’s arrived back in Florida and that Maisie’s fever is under control. In the group chat, Hailey has sent a bullet-point list of today’s plans.

Photo op at the Las Vegas sign. Happy hour on the High Roller. Magic Mike Live. Got it.

“Everything okay?” Liam asks, climbing out of bed as I text back replies at lightning speed.