Chapter 27
JAYDEN
Stella and I sway to the music on the dance floor. “So cynical,” I tease.
Her smile goes crooked. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think you’re actually that cynical.”
“No?”
“Nope. You act tough, but you’re a big softie inside.”
Her eyes fly open wide. “Tough?”
“Yeah. Okay, maybe tough is the wrong word.”
“Hockey players are tough.”
I chuckle. “Right. Maybe strong is a better word.”
A notch appears between her eyebrows. “You think I’m just acting strong?”
“No.” I sigh. “This is coming out all wrong. You’re very businesslike. Competent. Self-possessed.”
“Okay, I’ll take those.”
“Also very independent.”
She nods.
“You value your freedom and your territory.”
“My territory?”
“Yes. Your home.” With pressure on her hip, I steer her away from another couple on the dance floor. “You’ve said it’s your sanctuary. Your private space.”
“True.”
“Anyway, you’re very businesslike and… well, tough on the outside.” Her eyes widen and I lean in, my mouth close to her ear. “But inside you have a big…” I brush a kiss on her cheek, “… mushy…’ Another kiss. “… tender… heart.”
She swallows, eyes drifting closed. “Oh.”
The music changes to some hip-hop tune that I don’t know how to dance to.
“Let’s get a drink.”
With my hand on the small of her back, I guide her back to our table. People are standing around it talking and there are excited greetings for Stella upon seeing her. She tries to introduce me to cousins and aunts and uncles but I totally lose track of who’s who.
“What can I get you to drink?” I ask in her ear.
“A glass of wine would be wonderful. White wine.”
“Sure.”
I thread my way through tables to the bar. There’s a line-up but that’s okay because I need a few minutes to get my head on straight.
I’m catching feelings for Stella. Big feelings. I have to admit it, even to myself. But I don’t know what to do with that. Alanna’s advice was to bail. But I can’t. I have to at least talk to Stella about it. Because as much as I’m catching feelings, I think she is too.
“Hey, you’re Jayden Wood.” A guy in front of me recognizes me.
“I am.” I pull up a smile.
“Cool. Good to meet you. Listen, what’s going on between Bishop and Burzynski?”
I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a bunch of rumours that they’re having some kind of feud and that’s why the team is playing so bad. Is it a woman?”
Rumours? What? Now the whole world is talking about this? Jesus Harold Christ.
“No.” I can’t stop my scowl. “There’s no woman. There’s no feud.”
Except there is.
Is it over a woman? Fuck’s sake.
“Huh,” the guy says. “Somebody told me they heard that Bishop slept with Burzynski’s girlfriend.”
I shake my head. Luckily, the guy is next to be served and he steps up to the bar. Then he turns. “What can I getcha?”
It’s an open bar. But hey, that’s nice. “A white wine and a Crown Royal.”
He orders and a minute later, hands me my drinks. “It’s on me,” he says with a wink.
“Thanks, man.”
I head back toward Stella who is laughing with a couple of women near our table. Did I meet them? I don’t even remember. I touch Stella’s arm and press the glass into her hand.
“Thank you.” She smiles at me.
“He’s a keeper,” one of the women remarks.
Hell yeah, I am.
When it’s time for the bride to toss her bouquet, Stella goes on alert. “Where’s Mom?”
I look around. “I think she was dancing. But I don’t see her.”
Stella scans the room as single ladies gather on the dance floor to catch the flowers. There are a few children here and they’re on the dance floor, too, dancing and spinning.
“Why aren’t you up there?” I ask Stella.
She gives me a look. “Please.”
Right. She doesn’t need a man.
“There you are!” Stella’s mom rushes up and grabs Stella’s arm. “Come on! Let’s go catch the bouquet!”
Oh.
Stella resists. “No, Mom. I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do! It’s tradition. And you need a husband!”
But Stella won’t budge.
I smile at Cheryl. “She doesn’t want to. Let’s respect that.”
Cheryl gives me a baffled look. Stella shoots me a look of gratitude.
I clear my throat.
The DJ booms, “Last call for catching the bouquet! Who wants to be the next bride?”
“Fine.” Cheryl spins on a heel and stalks off to join the others on the dance floor.
“What was that about?” I murmur in Stella’s ear.
Her mouth compresses. “I don’t want to catch the bouquet. I don’t want to be the next one to get married.”
Oh right.
“And I definitely don’t want to be like my mom… desperate and needy.”
I get that. But I feel like there’s a whole lot of… more behind those words.
Meredith makes a show of warming up her throwing muscles, and then she turns her back to the women on the dance floor, winds up, and launches her flowers into the air.
“Good arm,” I murmur.
There’s a scuffle as women try to grab the bouquet. And then a little boy emerges from the pack, holding the flowers aloft. He takes off at a run, brandishing the bouquet.
One of the women screeches, “Get back here, you little… rascal!”
Cheryl.
She takes off after the boy at a run, holding up her long skirt.
“Oh my God.” Stella covers her mouth with her hands.
“Give that to me!” Cheryl cries. “That should have been mine!’ She grabs the boy, who resists, and they both go down in a swirl of dusty-rose satin.
Every guest in the room says, “Ohhhhhh.”
“You… can’t… have it,” Cheryl insists as she wrestles with the kid.
Stella’s head drops forward.
“You’re a boy!” Cheryl adds, then finally gets the flowers out of the kid’s clutches. “Yes!” She jumps up and dances around.
“How much champagne did she have?” Stella cries. “This is so embarrassing.”
I slide my arm around her and pull her close. “It’s your mom who should be embarrassed. Not you.”
She presses her forehead to my shoulder. “Can we leave now? Maybe I can just hide under the table for a while.” She lifts the tablecloth.
I remove the fabric from her grip. “That’s your call, baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”
She heaves a sigh. “I better check on Mom.”
“Let’s go.”
We make our way over to Cheryl where Meredith and Harrison are already talking to her. The boy has disappeared.
“Mom.” Stella gives her mother a piercing look. “What the hell was that all about?”
“A boy cannot have the bouquet,” Cheryl says, as if this is evident. “He stole it out of my hands!”
“Let’s go chat out in the lobby,” Stella suggests, taking her mom’s arm.
“Good idea,” Harrison says.
We all follow them into the spacious, marble-floored lobby. I feel the eyes of other guests on us.
“Are you drunk, Mom?” Harrison asks.
“No!”
I don’t know her that well, but she doesn’t seem wasted.
“Why would you do that?” he demands.
“I told you.” She seems to be calming down. “I… I wanted the bouquet.”
Her sad tone is… well, sad.
“Did you get hurt when you fell?” Stella asks quietly.
“No. I’m fine.” Cheryl twitches the skirt of her dress back into place. “Where’s Jason?”
We all look at each other and shrug.
“I can go find him,” I offer.
The others all nod, so I head back into the ballroom and skirt around the perimeter looking for him. He’s not at our table, not at the bar, not on the dance floor. I even make a quick trip into the men’s room, but he’s not there either.
Fuck. This is going to go over like a skydiving walrus. I shove a hand into my hair as I return to the lobby. I meet Stella’s eyes and give my head a tiny jerk.
Her eyes widen. Then close.
“I can’t find Jason,” I tell the others.
They all stare at me.
I shrug. “Unless he went out for a smoke…?”
“He doesn’t smoke,” Cheryl says. Her mouth sinks into a sad curve. “Did he… leave?”
We’re thinking the same thing: we wouldn’t blame him if he did.
The vibe around us is painfully miserable. Cheryl’s woebegone expression makes me more sympathetic to her.
Stella links her arm with her mom’s. “Let’s go to the ladies’ room for a few minutes.”
She leads Cheryl away.
I look at Harrison and Meredith, who I barely know. “It’s not a wedding without family drama.”
“You’re not wrong.” Harrison sets a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get a drink.”
I give Meredith a sympathetic smile and she smiles back. She’s okay.
Cheryl doesn’t want to stay after Jason’s disappearance, so we put her in an Uber.
“Would you like us to come with you?” I ask Cheryl.
She gazes at me a moment, then smiles and shakes her head. “You’re a nice young man. No. You stay and have fun.”
Stella and I are both unsettled by what’s just happened but after a little more champagne and more dancing, we start to relax and enjoy ourselves. I even get to impress Stella with my Wobble.
When we’re finally back at Stella’s place, we’re both a little toasted and a lot tired. After saying hi to our ecstatic dogs, Stella kicks off her heels and says, “Aaaaah.”
“Those must be torture for your feet.”
“They are. But they’re pretty.”
“Hot as hell,” I agree. I hover near the door.
“Come in.” Stella flops onto the couch, the sheer layers of her skirt spreading around her. She yawns. “I’m beat.”
“Yeah.” I sit next to her, moving her dress out of the way.
“Did you have fun?”
“I did. Other than that small drama. Didn’t know a soul except you but I got to dance with you.”
She smiles. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”
“Yes.” Fuck, yes.
She nods, eyes going hazy. “Let’s go to bed, then.”
I don’t need to be told twice. We give our dogs a few treats and settle them in their donut beds, then climb the stairs to her bedroom.
It’s pink. I’ve seen it before and I like it. It’s not frilly or fancy, but definitely feminine, with cream walls, pale-pink bedding, soft pink and cream rugs on the wood floor. Each time I enter, I feel like I’m being granted access to Stella’s peaceful, womanly empire.
I move toward her. “You look so beautiful tonight.” I set my hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin gleams in the lamp light. “And you handled your family so well.”
She grimaces. “I’m sorry about the drama.”
“Hey.” I hold her gaze. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. And all your family is crazy about you.”
She tips her head, eyebrows lifting.
“Everyone wanted to talk to you.”
“No, everyone wanted to talk to you.” She smiles and tugs at my tie. It’s already loosened, and my top shirt button undone, but she pulls the tie off. “That’s why I was so popular.”
I shake my head and push the narrow straps of her dress down.
I curve my palms over the rounded contours of her shoulders and contemplate the curves of her gorgeous tits.
With my fingertips, I trace over her collarbone, then lower, between her breasts.
The bodice is dropping a bit, revealing even more cleavage.
“This dress had me hard all night,” I tell her. “I want to fuck your tits.”
She makes a little noise, like shock or maybe delight.
I glance up at her face. Her full lips are parted, her eyes dark.
“Was that a yes?”
She breathes out a laugh and winds her arms around my neck, leaning in to whisper, “You can do whatever you want to me.”
Fuuuuuck.