Chapter 5 Choose a Venue #2
Jordan gestures with one arm to a hidden side door not far away. “And I thought, since you’re creating your own traditions…” He keeps his tone careful, hopeful. “Instead of Sam waiting for you at the end of the aisle, he could appear from over there. You could walk down the aisle together.”
Amy’s silent. Still as a statue. From beyond her shoulder, Jamie’s brow is pinched. Like maybe Jordan’s overstepped? Did he get the vision all wrong?
Hurriedly, he says, “Or we could stick with—”
Amy slices her hand through the air to cut him off. “No! I want that. Please. Make that happen.”
Jordan’s muscles relax. He avoids overanalyzing the way Jamie smiles at him by pretending to re-center a plant.
Amy spins on her heels. “Sam? You’re not saying anything.”
“I’m thinking,” he says, staring up at the glass roof.
Fondly, she says, “That’s never a good thing.”
He snorts as she marches over. Her arm hooks with his. “Let’s look around some more,” she suggests, tugging him toward the flowered arch.
Jordan stays behind to scribble notes on his iPad. Fresh ideas are simmering inside him. He doesn’t want to forget.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get very far.
“So…”
The voice comes from Jordan’s left. Jamie, again. Jordan almost drops his stylus in surprise, but quickly recovers.
“How long is this going to go on?” Jamie asks.
“What? Looking at the venue?” Jordan lowers his eyes to the iPad screen. It’s almost 6 PM. “Do you need to leave for work?”
At any given time, Jamie works at four to five different bars around Atlanta. This, despite being the world’s worst bartender. Part of that is because Jamie’s never been a drinker. He has no idea how cocktails are supposed to taste. Denz once said Jamie stays employed because he’s easy to talk to.
That, and his smile. Which Jordan’s currently not staring at.
“Nooo.” Jamie inches deeper into Jordan’s space.
Very casually, Jordan slides in the opposite direction.
“How long are you planning on not talking to me today?” Jamie clarifies.
“I just spoke to you.”
“Barely.”
“Twelve words isn’t ‘barely,’” Jordan argues.
From the corner of his eye, he sees the left side of Jamie’s mouth tick up. “Did you really just count how many words you said to me?”
“No.” But maybe he did.
Jamie laughs breathily. “You’ve barely even looked at me, Jordan.”
“Fine.” Jordan huffs before turning. “Here. I’m looking at you.”
It’s a criminally bad mistake.
From this distance, Jamie’s hairstyle is even more unforgivable.
But the blues in his checked button-down bring out the rose undertones in his tan skin.
The sun’s angle makes the hints of olive in his brown eyes pop.
His bare chin is still weird, though. Jordan hasn’t seen his face this naked since they were teens.
When that smooth, hairless chin bumped against Jordan’s while they—
He clears his throat roughly. “Better?”
Jamie doesn’t comment about the way Jordan’s looking past him now, not at him. “You’re making this awkward,” he tells Jordan.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” Jamie accuses. His wide smile crinkles his nose. “This is the most we’ve talked in months. Since—”
He stops short.
Jordan tips his chin up, challenging. “Since—?”
Jamie shoves his hands into his pockets. His expression crumples. Like he’s fighting with himself. With what he should say. Finally, he whispers, “I didn’t want it to be like this, Jordan.”
His voice is dripping with sincerity.
Fuck, Jordan hates it. Hates how he knows that’s just Jamie. Always.
“It was never my intention to—”
“How do you know Amy?” Jordan cuts in. He’s not ready to have that conversation. Relive that night.
Wrinkles ripple across Jamie’s forehead. “From school. You already know that.”
“I know what Amy said.” Jordan taps his iPad awake. “I want your version. For research.”
“Research,” Jamie parrots.
Jordan sighs, annoyed he has to explain this part. “To design their wedding, I need to know as much as possible about Amy and Sam. The couple. The individuals.” He swipes to the profile sheet he created. “Things like their connection to friends and family.”
In his periphery, Jamie nods.
“This day needs to be personal,” Jordan continues. “A moment they’ll never forget. That’s the 24 Carter Gold experience.”
When he lifts his gaze, Jamie’s grinning.
“Is that experience exclusive to the company? Or is that included in the Jordan Carter Spec—”
“So, you two went to high school together?” Jordan cuts in again.
Jamie rocks on his heels. “Yeah. Denz, Amy, and me.” Sheepishly, he adds, “Brighton Academy.”
Jordan maintains a blank face. He didn’t go to private school. His mom considered the idea. They certainly had the money for it. But Tevin suggested public school. He wanted Jordan to have a normal high school experience. Which he did, for the most part.
None of his teammates ever cared that his uncle Kenny was on Good Day Atlanta. That he was seen laughing with the likes of Idris Elba. They were more interested in which rapper’s album Tevin was producing next. If he could get Future to perform at their prom.
(He didn’t. Tevin tried.)
Denz used to tell Jordan horror stories from Brighton all the time. What the other kids were like. The pretentious energy. What it was like to be one of a handful of Black students there. Jordan never felt as if he was missing out.
Except …
He could’ve been around Jamie more. Maybe they could’ve been better friends. Maybe Jordan would’ve figured out more about himself instead of being confused by whatever he’s feeling lately. Or maybe not. Nothing in life has ever been fixed by dwelling on the maybes.
“You never talked about Amy,” he mentions offhandedly. “You know, in the summer. When we were at Denz’s house.”
“When I’d whoop your ass on Mario Kart?” Jamie says.
“You’re a liar and a cheater.”
“Jordan, I didn’t cheat.”
“Another lie.”
Jamie inches even closer. His grin is peak levels of teenage Jamie. “Is it my fault you make poor choices? Who picks Bowser as their racer?” He leans in. “You have unreal confidence in your skills. Or you’re overcompensating.”
Jordan folds his arms. “Are you psychoanalyzing me? Based off my Mario Kart character?”
“And if I am?” A dare flashes loud and neon bright in Jamie’s eyes.
Jordan almost falls for the trick. Then, he remembers a moment like this. In a basement bedroom. He knows what happened because of it.
He also knows what happened in December.
His eyes lower to the iPad. Strained, he says, “Back to Amy.”
The proximity of their bodies means Jordan feels it when Jamie shrugs. “I didn’t talk about Amy because…” Jamie trails off again.
Jordan pretends to care about the list on his tablet.
“She’s from a different part of my life,” Jamie eventually finishes.
“Meaning?”
Another beat.
Jordan peeks up through his eyelashes. Jamie’s mouth puckers as he thinks. It’s a little too close to how he looks right before he kisses. God, is Jordan ever not going to care about this man’s mouth?
Jamie sighs. “My life was different before I met Denz.”
Jordan doesn’t know much about Jamie’s history other than what he admitted during their summers together. Which wasn’t much. As friendly and goofy as he is, Jamie’s also fiercely private. He doesn’t often talk about his home life. Being from a wealthy family. His parents.
Jordan has met them. Twice, maybe? Not enough to know them.
“Amy’s always lived in that part of my life,” Jamie says. “We’ve always been there for each other.”
There’s a softness behind his eyes as he studies Amy and Sam. Jordan turns his head to look. They’re near the peach tree, laughing. She playfully smacks his chest. He threads windswept pieces of hair behind her ear.
Jordan recognizes the easiness between them. He appreciates it. He’s not sure if his love story will ever look like that. If he can imagine it being that natural with someone else. But, somewhere deep in his bones, he hopes so.
For his mom’s sake, of course.
“My friendship with Amy has never been like the one I have with Denz,” Jamie confesses. “Or me and—”
He pauses again. Jordan arches an eyebrow.
Jamie averts his gaze. “She gets things about my life no one else does.”
Jordan doesn’t like the sensation inside him. It’s like a hand squeezing his stomach.
“It’s complicated,” Jamie says.
A question tickles the roof of Jordan’s mouth. He swallows it when Sam and Amy draw closer.
Instantly, he switches Planner Mode back on. “Well? Should I confirm with Lilly this is where you’re getting married?”
Sam regards their surroundings one more time. “We’re not sure.” By Amy’s wince, the “we” in that sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. “Having the ceremony and the reception in the same place seems … chaotic?”
“Oh, it’s not at all,” Jordan assures him. “I’ll coordinate everything beforehand.”
Sam doesn’t appear convinced. “We’re not sure this is the right place for us.”
Fuck. Jordan needs to think fast. This was his last resort. Their schedule is already hyper-condensed. There’s not enough time to contact another venue. One outside the dozen he’s already tried.
Disappointment starts to unfold across Amy’s face. Jordan’s seconds from losing her too. He needs a way to convince Sam that the Conservatory is the right venue for their wedding.
He needs a plan. A moment to think. He trained under Kami Carter, the best events manager in all of Atlanta. She never met a challenge she couldn’t conquer. A client she couldn’t woo.
Jordan can do this. He just needs—
He needs—
Jamie steps forward. “Sam, before you decide, can I show you one thing?”
Sam blinks warily at him. “I guess?”
A grin edges up Jamie’s mouth. He swipes around on his phone before offering it to Amy. “Hold this for me, Ames?”
Distrust flits through her eyes.
“Trust me,” he requests. “Oh, and press Play in one sec.”
She doesn’t argue. Only watches as he strolls over to Jordan, his hand extended. “Follow my lead.”
“Do … what now?” Jordan stammers.