Chapter Forty
“Congratulations!” Violet tapped her champagne flute against mine. “I know this night is all about you and your big success, but I think we can agree that I yet again outdid myself with this new gallery.”
“How do you fit that ego of yours through doorways?” Lola chimed in.
“Being modest doesn’t suit me.” Violet shrugged.
Violet wasn’t wrong. Her newest gallery was undoubtedly going to make her the talk of New York. Each of the sculptures on display were worth over a million dollars, having them flown in from Italy by none other than Matteo Ricci.
Just when everyone thought Violet had reached the top, she kept climbing.
Her grand opening was also the perfect place to celebrate the opening of Ivy and Quill Press.
The gallery was a flurry with people, photographers, and the ones I came to dread the most—the press.
The year at Reynolds’ taught me many things, including the fickle nature of the press.
I turned my attention away from them and back to my friends. “Here’s to us.” I lifted my glass of champagne. “It’s been a hell of a year.”
Lola tapped her glass on mine. “I’m so proud of you both. And even better news, now that competition season is over, I can spend more time here with you.”
“How exciting for us,” Violet joked sarcastically. “What are you going to do with all your free time?”
Lola eyed the crowd over a sip of champagne. “I think it’s about time I let loose and had some fun. Drama-free, ice-hockey player-free, no-strings-attached kind of fun. Finally put Mickey behind me.”
“Sounds like a healthy way to deal with your issues,” Violet mused.
It was surreal to think that a year ago, Lola had returned to escape her on-again-off-again relationship with Mickey. A year ago, we were together ‘celebrating’ my marriage to a complete stranger in Violet’s new gallery.
It felt longer than one year.
A year ago, I was still reeling from Laurence ending things. History had a funny way of repeating itself, as here I was again brokenhearted.
Except it was me who ended things with Jaxon.
It was me who told him to stay away. To give me space.
I wanted to be able to forgive him. I wanted to be able to look into his whiskey-storm eyes again and not see every lie he ever told.
But was it too little too late? Could trust ever truly be rebuilt?
It had only been a couple days and already I missed him. He never showed up to finish painting the walls. His absence lingered in the building. Even Bell was miserable every day he didn’t show.
Jaxon said he would do anything for my forgiveness and trust.
Anything.
I only hoped that sending him away was the right thing to do. That our time apart didn’t stretch the thinness between us to the point of breaking.
“I need another drink.” I left my friends to bicker and headed to the open bar. Several people stopped to congratulate me, many of them comparing my drive for business to my father’s. It saddened me as much as it made me proud.
I needed to learn how to not just forgive Jaxon, but my own dad, too.
“Can I get a glass of…”
“Champagne for the belle woman and a double bourbon neat.”
My stomach tumbled into a freefall. Jaxon, dressed in a black tuxedo, making him more lethally handsome, appeared at my side.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I frowned. “You realize when I said we needed space, I meant more than ninety-six hours.”
He handed me the glass, my fingertips touching his and sparking a jolt of electricity through my nervous system. His lips parted as if he felt it.
Why did everything about him call to me?
Clicks of a nearby camera snapped me back to reality. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” I stepped away, creating as much distance as possible. “This is an invite-only event.”
“You invited Olivier,” he said. “I am his plus one. He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but I can be quite persuasive.”
I shook my head. “Unbelievable. Is there a single one of you Dade men who can be trusted?”
He smiled, dimples piercing his cheeks and knocking the wind from me.
I missed those smiles.
“Where is Olivier?” I glanced at the sea of bodies. “I’d like to have a little chat with him. One where it ends with my hands around his throat.”
“So deliciously violent, ma douceur.”
Ma douceur.
Those two little words were enough to bring the haphazardly built walls around me crumbling back down brick by brick.
“It’s your big night.” He stepped closer. “You’ve achieved what you always dreamed about. There wasn’t a chance I was going to miss it and tell you how unbelievably proud I am of you.”
Jaxon had an uncanny way of saying everything my heart wanted to hear. Deep down, I knew he was sorry and regretted what he did. Deep in the empty depths of my soul, I knew he wanted to make it work.
But my heart and soul were still too bruised.
I forced myself not to react.
“I appreciate you stopping by to tell me.” I walked to a nearby sculpture, studying it aimlessly. Whatever it took to keep my eyes off him. “You can tell your brother he’s permanently struck off my guest list for future events.”
Not true.
I liked Olivier, and secretly, I was happy Jaxon forced Olivier to bring him.
Jaxon chuckled. “I’ll be sure to pass on the news.” He inspected the bronze sculpture from the corner of my eye. “What is it meant to be?”
The hell if I knew.
Art wasn’t exactly my strong suit. I could appreciate a beautiful painting, or photograph, but everything else was lost on me.
I pointed to the plaque beneath. “The tortures of a man in love, apparently.”
His lips thinned. A deep line cemented between his brows as anguish flashed in his eyes. “Ah, of course. I see it now.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again.
“Art never really made any sense to me,” I said swiftly. “I guess writing is art in a way. The written word. Writing just makes more sense than colors splattered on a page, you know?” Was I rambling? Pretty sure I was rambling like a lunatic now. “Half the time, famous paintings look like a toddler drew them.”
“Do you want to dance?” Jaxon asked unexpectedly.
He set his untouched glass down and offered me his hand. My eyes fell on the wedding band still wrapped around his finger.
I wasn’t sure why I decided to place my hand in his. I couldn’t explain why I let him guide us to the sectioned-off dance floor, or why my lungs seized, and my stomach burst to life with vibrant butterflies. But the second our bodies connected, and his hand rested on my waist while the other interlocked our fingers perfectly together, I didn’t give a damn.
My hand rested on his chest, the heavy rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch.
Thump.
Thump.
For just that moment, for one dance, I allowed myself to forget everything that happened.
I pushed it all away and melted into his touch, promising myself it was only for one dance.
“I’ve missed you.” His breath brushed the top of my head.
I’ve missed you too. The words fizzled out on my tongue, remaining unspoken.
Thump.
Thump.
Peeking a look up at him, he seemed in pain. When our eyes met, he didn’t look away. He kept his focus on me and only me until his anguish melted away and a shadow of a smile touched his lips.
I didn’t fight mirroring it. “I like it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile,” I said. “You should do it more often.”
When Jaxon smiled, it felt as if it were just for me.
Two small dimples formed. “You have an unnatural ability of coaxing them out of me, my love.”
My heart somersaulted.
“I know you’re still learning to forgive me,” he said quietly. “And I understand that you’re scared to trust me again. And, merde, I wish there was another way to prove to you that I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never hurt you again.”
“I know.”
It’s what made it so damn hard to stay angry.
He swallowed deeply. “My feelings for you will never change. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. You’re it for me, no matter what.” His hand cupped my cheek. “I hope there’s a day when you can see me and not my mistakes. But I know it’s a lot to ask.”
I leaned into the heat of his palm. It felt so right and so wrong. Like I was made to be nowhere else except right here with him, and at the same time alarm bells told me to run.
“I came here to tell you that I’m leaving for a while,” his voice croaked. “It’s not something I want to do, but I need to go to Monaco for a few weeks.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, concern jumping into my throat. “Is your grandmother okay?”
“She had a stroke two days ago.”
“Jaxon, I’m so sorry.”
“She’s going to be okay. The doctors reckon she will make a good recovery with time and care,” he said. “I need to go and handle things out there. I’m hoping it’s only for a couple of weeks, but I’m not sure. It could be longer.”
“I understand. Your family needs you right now.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Christ, I love you, Evelyn.” His lips softly pressed into my forehead. “There won’t be a day that goes by when I won’t think about you.”
The song ended with the last note hanging in the air.
His mouth lined with mine. “I just want you to be happy, no matter what.”
I closed the gap and captured his lips with mine.
The kiss was soft, yet full of longing. Lips molding together, fitting with each other like they were meant to be. Jaxon took his time, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I parted instantly and his tongue boldly slid against mine.
He tasted better than I remembered.
He tasted like home.
I moaned softly as both hands cupped my face and tipped my head back, granting him full access and letting each swipe of his tongue steal my breath. His body pressed into mine, slotting into each curve and groove.
When the band recommenced, we reluctantly broke apart.
The whisper of his lips still on mine as he dipped his chin and walked away.
I stood on the dance floor, lost for words, unable to fathom the new heights of dark emptiness drawing me in until an entire four songs were performed from start to finish.
Everything hurt.
Every muscle. Every nerve. Every beat of my heart.
It all hurt so fucking much because I realized what had just happened.
Jaxon had just kissed me goodbye.