26. Chapter 26
Fuck the rules.
Jack Black—yes, the famous actor—flashes his trademark cheesy smile at the camera. He’s wearing a hot-pink three-piece suit with a combination of pineapples and hockey sticks scattered over the too-shiny surface.
Weird as fuck wardrobe selection, but you do you, Jack.
“Aaaaand, we’re back with our pucking bachelor, hockey superstar, Reno Swain, also known as Reno Swoon,” he says in a loud, bombastic voice, his hand smacking me between the shoulder blades.
“I’m pretty sure every woman in America is lamenting the fact that Reno has found the woman he pucking loves, amirite, ladies? ”
He pops a dorky wink, and the studio audience cheers. I can’t see their faces, but they mostly sound like women.
Jack continues. “We’re down to the final two contestants. Kevin, can you bring out the lucky ladies?” Then he cackles and pops an eyebrow at the camera. “Well, I guess only one of them will feel lucky in a couple minutes.”
The crowd hoots and hollers as comedian Kevin Hart—dressed the same as Jack—leads two women onto the stage.
My eyes go immediately to the tall blonde in a yellow satin formal gown.
Yellow really shouldn’t look good on her with her hair coloring, but it does.
Juliette looks like a ray of pure sunshine.
And the way that fabric clings to her every curve…
I bite my knuckle, and the audience laughs, which startles me. Shit, I’d forgotten they were there .
And why am I even here? My brow creases, and I glance around. A huge neon sign hangs on the curtains at the back of the stage. It reads: I Pucking Love You.
I’m apparently on some kind of dating show.
Must be some shit my agent signed me up for.
At least I got to meet Juliette though. My eyes go back to her, and she smiles a bit apprehensively.
Dear god, she is beautiful… and entirely crazy if she thinks I’m not picking her.
I’m not even sure who the other woman is.
Glancing over, I see that it’s Leia. Nope. Not interested. Not even a little bit. I immediately turn my attention back to Juliette, who is looking up at the ceiling. Only, there’s no ceiling, just open sky above us.
What kind of bizarre-o setup is this? Soft fluffy clouds dot the sky, and I spot Sexy Bunny. He waves at me and gives me a thumbs up. I didn’t even know rabbits had thumbs, but I wave back before I’m interrupted by Jack Black’s voice.
“Reno, are you ready for the final pucking selection?”
My gaze returns to Juliette, and I take a deep breath. It’s her. She’s the one for me. That’s why Sexy Bunny grew a thumb… so he could tell me I’m on the right path.
“I’m ready, Jack,” I say confidently.
“Fantastic. Angie, can you bring out the final two pucks, please?”
I try not to frown when Angela Lansbury pushes a small rolling cart onto the stage. Wait… what? I thought she was dead.
The actress is dressed in the same pineapple and hockey stick fabric as Jack and Kevin’s suits, only she’s wearing a long skirt and sensible black shoes like my grandmother used to wear. She leaves the cart, kisses Jack Black on the mouth, and strolls off the stage to much applause.
At this point, I’ve given up trying to figure out what the fuck’s going on here. I’m just ready to get this show on the road so I can be with my dream girl.
Dream… That word sparks something in my head but before I can define it, Jack lays a hand on my shoulder.
“Reno, you’re on your way to your pucking happily ever after.” The audience claps as Jack turns somber. “But before that, you have the difficult task of sending one of these ladies home.”
I want to tell him it’s not really that difficult, but I figure that will make me look like an asshole, so I simply nod stoically.
Jack gestures toward the tray the apparently-now-alive Angela Lansbury left, and I see a sleek rectangular plate with two hockey pucks.
One is round like a normal puck, but it has a bright red X printed on it. The other is shaped like a heart.
He doesn’t have to direct me. I know what to do. I pick up the X-puck and walk toward the women.
“Leia,” I say, holding out the X-puck to her.
Her mouth drops open in an expression of shock before that emotion turns to outrage.
She snatches the puck from my hand, whirls around, and stomps across the stage, her black dress billowing behind her before I can say anything else.
Then there’s a curse from offstage and a loud thunk before someone yells, “Watch where you’re throwing that thing, lady. ”
A bunch of oohs sound from the studio audience, but I ignore everything except Juliette McNamara, who is beaming up at me, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
I’m in such a love haze, I forget I’m on some kind of TV show until Jack presses the heart-shaped hockey puck into my hand and whisper-hisses, “Don’t forget to say the line, buddy. It’s in your contract.”
Taking a step closer to Juliette, I catch a whiff of her sweet pomegranate scent, and my cock takes notice.
Dude, not now. We’re on national TV, and it is definitely not boner time.
My penis droops a little at my scolding, thank god, and I can get back to making Juliette mine. Holding out the puck, I say the dumb line I’m contractually required to say. “I pucking love you.”
I have so many more words for her, but just as I cradle the side of her face in my palm, I hear a voice and feel a gentle hand shaking my shoulder .
“So sorry to bother you, sir, but can you please bring your seat back into its upright position?”
Jerking my eyelids open, I swivel my head from side to side, confused at my surroundings. I’m not on a television show. There’s no Jack or Kevin or resurrected-Angela. No audience or lights or hockey pucks. I’m on a plane, and the flight attendant is smiling patiently down at me.
It was a dream.
“Oh, yes. Sorry,” I mutter, straightening my seat as requested while trying to shake off the ludicrous dream I’d been dropped into. This happened once before when I drank champagne. I’d had a bizarre dream about Kelly Clarkson sitting on the roof of my car, singing Christmas songs while I drove.
No more champagne for this guy.
I twist my head to look at Juliette in the seat beside me. She has her chin in her hand, and her temple is tilted against the window. We’re above the cloud line, and when I lean closer, I can see lots of fluff beneath us.
“See any interesting clouds?” I ask.
She shakes her head and continues staring out the window.
I try again. “It’s probably cool to cloud gaze from above, huh?”
Juliette still doesn’t look at me. “It’s different.”
I stroke her long braid with my hand. “Everything okay?”
She finally turns her face toward me, and I’m surprised at the dullness clouding her normally bright eyes. “Just tired. Some sex-crazed fiend kept me up all night.”
“That bastard,” I denounce. “Do you want to watch baby goat videos on my phone?”
That earns me a tiny smile, and she nods.
I tug her toward me, nestling her in the crook of my arm while I log on to the plane’s Wi-Fi.
I barely watch the screen, instead keeping my eyes on Juliette.
She smiles at the antics of the little animals, but she’s definitely not her bubbly self.
Maybe she’s just tired. Or hungry. I’ll feed her when we get to Miami.
Lifting Juliette’s hand, I kiss the back of it. “Is something wrong with your breakfast burrito? You’ve only taken a couple bites.”
She rolls her lips between her teeth and shrugs. “Not all that hungry, I guess.”
I study her face, getting the feeling something is off with her. She’s been quiet, and she sat across the booth from me instead of on the same side.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, studying her face.
She doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Of course. Just got a lot to do when I get home.”
“For the children’s summer reading program at the library?”
Juliette’s face turns a bit mushy at the mention. From our talks, I know it’s one of her favorite parts of her job.
“Yes, I need to email all the guests I have scheduled and make sure everything is still on track. Plus, I’m anxious to see the renovations the crew has been working on. They haven’t messaged me about any problems, but it’s important they have everything done before we have a bunch of kids there.”
That must be what’s bothering her. She’s got a full plate running the library and with her writing career. So I step out on a limb.
“I’d love to come to one of the events, if you’ll tell me where your library is located. The guy with all the animals sounds cool.”
She startles, her eyes widening. “I, uh, think that would break rule two. And three.”
Rule two is no talking about our personal lives, and rule three is no contact once we return to our respective homes.
“Sweetheart,” I say with a chuckle, “I think we obliterated rule two a long time ago, and to be honest, I’m not a big fan of rule three. ”
Instead of commenting, she shifts in her seat and roots around in her backpack before pulling out a few bills and tossing them onto the table. “I’d better get to my terminal so I don’t miss my flight.”
Her change in attitude staggers me. Last night was so perfect. So meaningful. To me anyway. When we made love, it felt like we had this soul-deep connection I’ve never experienced with another person.
The eye contact. The kisses. The whispered words that verged on some very serious declarations. All of it combined into something… special, for lack of a better word.
But now she’s standing and pulling her backpack onto her shoulders. I quickly rise and snag the money she left on the table—because yeah, that ain’t happening—replacing it with my own before handing hers back to her.
Juliette lets out an exasperated breath. “I can pay for my own food.”
“I’m certain you can but not when you’re with me.”
With a roll of her eyes, she puts the money back into her bag before lifting her face to look at me. “Thank you. For everything. It was really nice to meet you, Reno.”
It was really nice to meet me? What the fuck?
Gritting my teeth, I take her hand because she looks like she’s ready to make an escape.
“Come with me,” I demand, and she makes a hmph noise but follows me anyway.
My eyes dart around, looking for a quiet place where we can talk.
Not the easiest task in the busy Miami International Airport, but I remember a kind of quiet zone from when I had a long layover here a couple years ago. I think it was in this terminal.
Spotting a familiar corridor, I turn right and see couches lined up against the walls. A few people are resting on them, most wearing noise-canceling headphones.
“Reno, my flight,” Juliette whisper yells.
“You have an hour and a half,” I tell her quietly, walking past the couches and finding a relatively secluded area. Then I swivel to face her and rest my hands on her hips. “Juliette, I want to see you again. ”
“But rule three…”
“Fuck the rules,” I snap. “We made the rules; we can change them.” Softening my tone, I step into her warmth. “I don’t want this to end, Juliette.”
Her beautiful face morphs into something resembling pain. “I can’t, Reno.”
“You can’t or you don’t want to?” I question.
“Both,” she replies, dipping her gaze to my chest like I have a puzzle printed on my black V-neck shirt. The lack of eye contact tells me she’s not being completely honest, which is unlike her. Juliette is the most guileless person I’ve ever met.
“Can we still be friends?” That’s the furthest goddamn thing from what I need, but it would be better than nothing. And perhaps we could build on that. If I get my foot in the door she’s trying to slam, I know I could win her heart.
Her aqua eyes are filled with tears when she lifts them to mine. “I-I think a clean break would be best.”
A stiletto of agony cramps my stomach, and I pull in a long breath through my nose before releasing it slowly through my mouth. It doesn’t soothe me in the least because she looks as broken as I feel.
“But why?” I sound like a needy little bitch, but I don’t care.
I am needy when it comes to Juliette McNamara.
In a few short weeks, she’s become my addiction.
Her smile. Her endless chatter about soundtracks and goats.
Her softness mixed effortlessly with her strength.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without her.
She swallows. “Because it’s what I need.”
What about my needs? I want to ask, but I love her so fucking much, her needs trump my own.
Cupping her exquisite face with both hands, I ask, “Can I kiss you goodbye?”
A tear slips down her face, and she nods. I close my mouth over hers, doing my best to show her how well we fit. How perfect we are together. The kiss is poignant and sweet, filled with an emotion that threatens to undo me in the middle of an airport .
Her arms wind around my neck, and our tongues tangle into a mass of passion and want—on both our parts. I can taste the saltiness of her tears, and I kiss her harder, pouring myself into her with a desperation I can't remember ever feeling.
When we break, her lips tremble when she swipes a tear from my cheek. I didn’t realize it had fallen, but I’m not ashamed in the least. She’s worth all my tears. She’s worth everything.
“Goodbye, Reno,” she whispers.
And then she’s suddenly striding down the corridor away from me, but I don’t miss the hitch of her shoulders that tells me she’s sobbing. Why is she shutting me out if she’s this upset?
My fingers brush against the tingling sensation on my lips. Would that be the last kiss we ever shared?
I bend at the waist against the raw ache inside me, placing my hands on my knees as I watch the love of my life leave me.
Then she turns the corner without looking back and…
She’s gone. Dragging my shattered heart behind her.