Chapter 7 Sharon #2
I'm shaking. I realize it all at once—my hands, my legs, my whole body is vibrating with adrenaline and relief and something like exhilaration. Cassian turns to face me, and his hands find my face, cupping my cheeks so gently it makes my chest tight.
"Did you just—" he starts.
"Insult your brother and his fiancée in front of their faces?" I finish, my voice coming out higher than I'd like. "Yes. Yes, I absolutely did. I'm going to regret that tomorrow when I'm looking for a new job."
"You're not going to regret it because they're going to be upset?" Cassian asks. He's smiling, his gray eyes warm in the soft light of the living room. His thumbs trace gentle circles on my cheekbones.
"I'm going to regret it because I'm terrible at my job, and I just told my clients that their matching eye patch tattoos are a disaster," I say.
But even as the words come out, I realize I'm not sure I do regret it.
There's something liberating about it, something honest. "But also, I'm not actually going to regret it because they deserve it. "
"You're not terrible at your job," Cassian says. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, and it's so tender that it makes my eyes sting. "They're terrible clients. There's a difference."
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and then he's kissing me again, and it's different from before. Not frantic. Not desperate. Deeper. More certain. Like he's making a choice and committing to it with everything he has.
I kiss him back, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palms. It's fast, racing, which somehow makes me feel less alone in my own panic.
He tastes like beer and something warm, and I'm thinking about how insane this is, how I'm kissing my ex's brother on his couch, how this is going to complicate everything in ways that I can't even begin to fathom.
But I don't stop. I don't want to stop.
He pulls back first, resting his forehead against mine. His hands slide down to my shoulders, and he's breathing hard like he's just run a marathon.
"I need to figure something out," he says, his voice rough.
"What?" I ask, my voice still shaky, my fingers still gripping his shirt.
"Why nobody's coming to this wedding," he says. "And why Ben and Penelope are in an open relationship but still getting married. The whole thing doesn't make sense."
I pull back enough to look at him. "They're in an open relationship?"
"Have been for years," Cassian confirms. He guides me back to the couch, and we sink into the cushions together.
His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I tuck myself against his chest. "Which is fine, people do what works for them.
But why get married if you're not exclusive?
Why go through all of this if you don't actually want it? "
"Money," I say, because I've been around enough weddings to know that it usually comes down to that. "They probably need it for something. Or there's some financial advantage to being legally married."
"That's what I'm thinking," Cassian says. "And I want to know what it is."
"Why do you need to figure it out?" I ask, even though I think I know the answer. I can feel it in the way he's holding me, in the way he defended me against Ben.
"Because I'm going to help you," he says. He pulls back slightly to look at me, and his expression is serious. "And because something's not right. Something about all of this is wrong, and I want to know what it is. More importantly, I want to know what Ben's doing to Grandpa."
"Your grandfather?" I ask. "What does he have to do with the wedding?"
"Everything," Cassian says quietly. "But that's a conversation for another time. For now, just know that I want to help. I want to figure this out with you."
"You don't have to do that," I say, but I'm already hoping that he will.
"I want to," he says. And then, softer, "Do you want my help?"
"I don't mind helping you help me," I offer, and it sounds ridiculous even as I say it, but Cassian just smiles like it's the best thing he's heard all night.
"Good," he says. "Because we're going to figure this out together."
He drives me back to my hotel, and the whole drive is quiet in a way that feels comfortable instead of awkward.
We don't talk much, just exist in the same space while the dark streets of Pine Hollow slip past the windows.
His hand rests on my thigh, and I rest mine on top of his, feeling the warmth of him, the realness of him.
When we pull up to the curb in front of the small hotel, I feel a flutter of panic. This moment, this perfect moment where everything feels right, is about to end.
He walks me to the door, his hand never leaving the small of my back. The night air is cool, and I can smell pine trees and something else that's purely Cassian—smoke and leather and something dark and warm.
"Thank you," I say, my key card already in my hand. "For tonight. For standing up to Ben. For... everything."
"Thank you for being here," he says. "For being willing to help. For making me laugh about the fake wedding guest app."
"That app is definitely going to be a real thing someday," I say, trying to make my voice light even though my chest feels tight. "Someone's going to make millions off of it."
"When they do, you'll owe me royalties," he says, and he's smiling, and I'm thinking about how I've somehow managed to fall for my ex's brother, and how insane that is, and how little I actually care about the insanity of it.
He kisses me at the door, and it's passionate and deep and everything a kiss should be, even though this is at least the third time we've kissed tonight. When he pulls back, I'm dizzy. My hand is still gripping his shirt, and I have to force myself to let go.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he says. "We'll figure out our next move."
"Okay," I agree, even though I know I should probably maintain some kind of professional boundary here.
I watch him walk back to his truck, and I'm standing on the curb of a small hotel in a small town, and I'm thinking about how I've somehow managed to fall for my ex's brother.
Thanks, universe. I was sure the ground was crumbling under me, yet here I am, finding my footing. The girl who thought she couldn’t handle any of this is gone. In her place stands someone who might actually be ready for more.