Page 99 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
“Not even close. I don’t need a prince, Mother. Just a good man. Someone who—” Over Muffy’s shoulder, I noticed someone moving toward me. Someone tall, dark, and handsome. Someone dressed in a black suit. Someone who took away my ability to speak, think, or breathe.
My skin prickled with heat. My mouth fell open. I blinked. It couldn’t be. Could it? What was he doing here?
Dizzy, I swayed on my feet, and my mother grabbed my arm. “Margot, are you all right?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, still watching in disbelief as Jack drew nearer. Our eyes locked. “I feel a little dizzy.”
“Dizzy? You never felt dizzy before you got that tattoo,” she said, studying it suspiciously. “Maybe it’s poisoning you.”
“It’s not the tattoo,” I said. “Excuse me for a moment.” I started to walk toward him, and my heart clamored faster with every step. Jesus Christ, he was gorgeous. The cut of the suit emphasized his slim torso and broad chest. His shoulders looked even wider. He’d gotten his hair cut, and it had been styled with some kind of product, slicked away from his face. His scruff was trimmed way back too. He looked polished and sophisticated.
And nervous as hell.
I felt a rush of protectiveness. He hates crowds. He hates dressing up. He’s doing this for me.
But I also nursed some lingering anger and doubt. Was this just another ‘I need to see you’ thing? Was he here just to get a fix? Or punish himself? I wasn’t going to play that game.
We met in the middle of the room and stood nearly chest to chest. My emotions were all over the place, my breath coming fast. Someone behind me dropped a glass, and at the sound of the crash, he glanced around sharply. My heart ached at his anxious expression, the tension in his neck, the sheen on his brow.
“Hey.” Compassion moved me to slip my hand into his, lock our fingers. I was angry with him, but I also recognized how difficult this was. “Look at me.”
His facial muscles relaxed slightly as he refocused on me. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing here, Jack?”
“I came to apologize.”
“For what?” I held my breath.
“For lying to you. For breaking things off. For being a coward.” He grimaced. “You were right. I was afraid of what I was starting to feel. Of what it meant.”
Hope was exploding like fireworks inside me. “What did it mean?”
“It meant letting go of things—my past, my guilt, my pain—and giving myself permission to move on. I wasn’t ready to feel that way about myself. And I probably still wouldn’t if I hadn’t met you.” His eyes skittered across the room again, and he swallowed. “Margot, I have so many things I want to say to you, but I’m not very good in a crowd.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
He frowned. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that—if this is important to you, then it’s important to me.”
“Jack, there is nothing more important to me right now than hearing what you have to say.”
Relief eased his features. “OK.”
“I have some things to say too.”
He looked tense again.
“Follow me. We’ll find a quiet place to sit down.” My heart thumped wildly as I led him out of the room.
We held hands as we walked down the promenade and through galleries, searching for the right spot. Finally we found an empty room with a bench in the center, and I let Jack lead me to it. It was dimly lit to protect the art, and the deep red walls made it seem warm and romantic. The butterflies in my stomach were out of control, and I had to remind myself to stay calm. He was saying the right things, but was he really ready to be with me?
Jack kept my hand in his as we sat, and he looked down at our fingers laced together on his lap. “You got a tattoo?” He held my arm up and angled it so he could read the words. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”
“Thank you. I do too.”
“What prompted that?”
“I decided you were right. It was time to stop worrying about what other people think. I was tired of being afraid of what people would say if I did something different.”
