Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jackie
Fending off concerned texts from both of her parents, followed by the Brooke’s Plains ranch’s group chat, from which Colt refused to remove her, Jackie threw herself into work as a distraction.
Fred threatened to call one of his many acquaintances to help pull all the photos off the internet.
Sharon admonished him that it’d only make things worse.
Kit wrote that him and Colt could go to Lionel Webster’s next show and throw tomatoes at him; this one Jackie wasn’t sure was meant to be in solidarity with her or Mitch, but she chuckled to herself all the same.
Even Mimi sent a text, something she still hated doing, simply saying: I knew that boy was a keeper.
What was Jackie supposed to do with that?
She folded another gold linen napkin into a neat arrangement and put a Swarovski crystal snowflake above the plate.
Stepping back, she admired her handiwork on the last six-person round table.
This wasn’t something she’d normally do but she welcomed an opportunity to clear her head after the paparazzi ambush an hour before.
Everything in the ballroom gleamed and sparkled. The sheer opulence of gold and white, mixed with green eucalyptus leaves, would stop anyone in their tracks.
Jackie hoped the happy couple and their guests would be pleased.
Did Mitch’s wedding look anything like this?
Her heart stuttered; her lungs paused mid-breath.
It must’ve been because she was upset on his behalf regarding the whole ordeal, that was it.
Despite missing him to varying degrees over the years, she knew that chapter of her life was closed.
She needed to think that, with her brain trying to prevail as her heart started weakening its resistance.
The hug in the barn had lowered her barriers.
The kiss in the cenote vanished them. Seeing his scar.
Those damn photos floating all over the internet.
Hearing he kept in touch with Lyla, all these years …
She swallowed, unexpected tears stinging her eyes.
Memories of laughing with Lyla about how their children would grow up to be best friends flashed in her mind, pushing thorns of regret into her heart.
She’d not only missed being there for Lyla through all the good and bad times, but she’d also never carry a child herself.
Even though it was something she’d known for years, the moment Mitch told her about Lyla and Nick’s son, it hit her square in the gut.
If that was the only poker stoking her self-inflicted misery.
“There you are!” Rea’s singsong voice echoed through the ballroom. Her fingers straightened the new gold name tag pinned to her shirt.
Jackie smiled at her. “Congratulations on your promotion. Assistant manager has a nice ring to it.”
Rea flushed. “Thank you. I know you put in a good word for me.”
“Of course I did. Your work is excellent.” Jackie’s brow furrowed. “What’s up?”
“You might want to stop by the poolside bar,” Rea said. The hair clip holding up her updo must’ve slipped, as half a dozen loose strands framed her face.
“Is there a problem?” Jackie asked.
Rea blew out a breath, pushing her hand to her chest like she was trying to calm her breathing.
Jackie goggled at her. “Did you run here?”
Rea shrugged, squaring her shoulders and standing straight. “I might’ve. And no, not really a problem.”
Jackie sighed. “Tell me what happened.”
“Mr. Craigton and another guest had a bit too much to drink.”
Jackie bit down on her lip. She wasn’t surprised Mitch had ended up at the bar after he went to answer his father’s call.
If she was in his shoes, she’d probably be under the table, fully sedated by now.
Knowing how much his father affected him, she wanted to give him some space to cool off before she found him and picked up the conversation they started in the Jeep before they were interrupted by the paparazzi.
Would you want something to happen?
Jackie still wasn’t sure what her response would’ve been.
Sure, they kissed. It was a great kiss. But what did it mean?
Were they going to continue kissing for one more week, and say goodbye at the end of it?
In theory, that’d be the simplest thing to do, but she knew that when it came to them, with what they shared, that kiss had only complicated everything.
Not to mention the fact he still had no idea why she left.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t blame him. If he’s not bothering anyone, leave him be. Maybe don’t serve him any more alcohol, but he’ll be fine. He’s never been a violent drunk.”
The corners of Rea’s lips lifted in a small smile.
Jackie frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I couldn’t help myself when I saw the paparazzi commotion earlier and … I went into a bit of a rabbit hole, reading about you two.” Rea blushed furiously, looking at the floor.
Jackie groaned, putting her hands on her hips and attempting to muster a stern expression, but it didn’t quite work out. Maybe she wasn’t made of tough enough stuff to even play-pretend an authoritative figure.
“I knew there was something going on between you two,” Rea continued.
Jackie cleared her throat. “Either way, a couple of drunk guests is hardly cause for alarm. Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
Rea chewed on the inside of her cheek, her gaze still avoiding Jackie’s eye. “There might be some people who must’ve seen all the online gossip at the bar and are taking photos and filming—”
Jackie swore, storming out of the ballroom without waiting for the rest of her sentence.
Could she fire the mariachi band? Granted, it was one of the highlights for their guests but right now, she really wasn’t in the mood for the upbeat music. Lit lanterns lined the paved path from the hotel to the poolside bar, casting a shadowy glow on the surrounding manicured lawn.
Jackie narrowed her eyes, scanning the merry crowd with a stubborn fold of her arms over her chest.
Mitch stood out from the crowd right away.
He was still in the same clothes he had been wearing to the cenote, beige linen trousers and a blue long-sleeved shirt.
His hair appeared golden in the warm light of the lanterns and candles placed all over the bar.
He held a tequila shot glass between the tips of his thumb and middle finger, the liquid balancing precariously against the edge.
“What are you going to do?” Rea rasped as she caught up with her. “You can’t take away guests’ phones or tell them off. It’s going to cause a big scene and it’ll be all over the internet by the morning, only confirming the gossip about you.”
Jackie inhaled with a stutter, her gaze flicking to a young woman who, while pretending to sway to the music on the makeshift dance floor, had her phone out and pointing at Mitch and an older man next to him.
Rea was right, but she couldn’t stand back and do nothing. The way his head bounced on his shoulders gave a good indication that he definitely had way too much to drink …
Slowly, she took in the rest of the crowd, pausing on everyone briefly to check how many people were videoing or taking photos. Fortunately, it seemed like the tall, young woman was the only camera-happy one.
“Can you take her aside, please? Say that she won a surprise prize for whatever reason. Offer her a complimentary massage or something,” she said to Rea.
Rea nodded with a smirk. “With pleasure.”
She walked up to the woman, but Jackie didn’t stick around to eavesdrop or see if her plan worked. Her feet found their way straight to Mitch’s side, as if on their own accord.
The older man had gotten up and wandered off seconds before she got there.
“Who’s your friend, Mitch?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
A quick glance at his pinked-up cheeks, glassy eyes and ruffled hair told her he probably hadn’t even noticed the attention he’d attracted. He looked quite drunk, but suspiciously cheerful, which was an improvement on his mood earlier in the day.
Her voice must’ve registered after some delay, as it took him a few seconds to turn to her. Their eyes met briefly, and his lips instantly widened in a smile. “Jackie! You should have a drink.” He offered her the full shot of tequila.
She eyed the glass. Tequila wasn’t a bad idea but she wanted to get Mitch to his room, out of the prying eyes of the public. “I’m good, thanks.”
His smile fell. “You don’t like tequila anymore?” he slurred as he tried to rest his head on his hand, propped up on the bar, but missed completely and almost smashed his forehead on the countertop instead. “Or maybe you want a Long Island Iced Tea?”
Jackie put her arm around him to steady him. “Not tonight. How much did you have to drink?”
He looked at her with confusion, like he was trying hard to concentrate. “A few.” He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers in the air. “One … two … No, more like five.” He dropped his hand with a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Quite a bit.”
She chuckled, unable to help herself. Damn, she’d forgotten what a pathetically cute drunk he made. “You think you’ve had enough?”
Mitch put his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.
“Alcohol? Yes. You? Never.” He nuzzled into her bare skin, inhaling deeply.
“You still use the same perfume,” he mumbled, so softly that no one apart from Jackie could hear him.
“My pillow smelled of it when you left. I didn’t wash it for months.
It was gross, I know. But I couldn’t, not while it smelled like you. ”
Jackie swallowed thickly, willing her heart to stop its theatrical acrobatics. It was the alcohol talking.
Lie to yourself, go ahead. You know he’s always been honest after alcohol, a voice in her head mocked.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you back to your room. I’ll make you a coffee and get some water into you.”
Mitch brightened up, raising his head and grinning at her. “You’re going to come to my room?”
Jackie bit back a smile. “Only to make sure you get there and don’t stumble into any other room.”