Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sinclair
I breathe in the cool evening air that has settled over the city.
Although I made it out to the terrace without wobbling, I know I had too much to drink tonight.
I skipped eating for most of the day in anticipation of the lavish meal I knew I’d be served here. That was an epic mistake since consuming that much champagne on an empty stomach was a recipe for the dizziness I’m experiencing now.
The lights of midtown Manhattan beckon my gaze, so I focus on them, drawing in a series of deep breaths meant to calm my thundering heart.
It’s been like that since Molly told me she spotted Jameson behind me.
During the past two years, I’ve spent a lot of time rehearsing what I’d say to him if I ever saw him again, but all of that has been chased away by the panic coursing through me.
Approaching footsteps behind me stall my breathing.
I close my eyes for a brief prayer that it’s Molly with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Sinclair.”
The rich, deep baritone of that voice catches me by surprise. It shouldn’t. I’ve heard it before. For years, it brought me comfort. Forever it felt like the man who owned that voice was my safe place in a world filled with uncertainty around every corner.
I bow my head.
“Turn around, Sinclair.”
As much as I want to tell him no, I can’t form the word. My voice is caught behind a lump in my throat. It’s a knot born from all the warring emotions inside of me.
“Turn around,” Jameson repeats.
I swallow hard and manage to squeak out two words in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. “Go away.”
His footsteps approach again.
The scent of cologne wafts in the night air around me.
Dammit, he smells so good.
“We need to talk,” he says in a low tone. “Turn around and talk to me. I deserve that much.”
The last four words puncture my heart.
He deserves that much?
He deserves nothing for abandoning me two years ago. He asked the impossible of me and then tossed me aside like trash when I wouldn’t agree to it.
I spin on my heel. “You deserve that much, Jameson?”
The words come out strong and defiant, but as soon as I catch sight of his face, I want to collapse to the ground.
I see the person I confided in. He knows every teenage secret I kept hidden from the world. He knows my dreams. He’s heard my fears.
I scan his face, noticing the light beard covering his jaw and the cut of his hair. It’s different.
He’s different.
There was always kindness in his gaze. It was a beacon to me when I needed it the most, but it disappeared that day on the street corner not far from where we are now. In its place, I see disappointment and the same flash of confusion I saw right before he walked away from me.
His arms cross his chest, luring my gaze to his biceps. Molly was right. He fills out a suit jacket better than he used to.
“Yes,” he says as he scans my face. “I do.”
I shake my head. “You deserve nothing.”
With darkness in his eyes, his jaw tightens. “I have a few things I need to say to you.”
I don’t trust my shaking legs to support me if I try and flee, but I need to have faith they will because I can’t stand here a second longer. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not.” His hand latches onto my wrist as I try and pass him. “Hear me out, Sin.”
The nickname is too intimate for this moment. He doesn’t have the right to use it anymore. Only the people who love me, who would never leave me, get to use it.
I yank myself free of his grasp. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that ever again.”
A ghost of a smile skates over his lips. “I’ve always called you that.”
The slight slur in those words lures my gaze to his. I take a second to study his eyes. I see a mirror image of what I saw ten years ago when he stole four bottles of beer from his older brother’s room.
We were fifteen and thought drinking under a tree in Central Park would be a fun way to spend a Saturday night. I poured out my bottle into the grass little by little with each of my pretend sips.
Jameson pounded back the other three beers in less than an hour.
I had to call Kalon to help me get Jameson to his feet. Since Kalon’s parents’ penthouse bordered Central Park, we were able to sneak Jameson into Kalon’s bedroom, where he spent the night on the floor, sleeping off the beers.
“You’re drunk,” I accuse with a pointed finger in his face.
I know all about how that means I have three fingers pointed back at my drunk self, but I’m pissed that Jameson seems to think he deserves anything from me.
He smirks. “You’re drunk.”
It may not be mature, but it’s sadly accurate.
I start walking off the terrace toward the ballroom, where people are gathering around the dance floor.
“Sinclair.” My name snaps off Jameson’s tongue as if poison is coating it. “Dammit, you need to listen to me.”
I turn around to find him staring at me. “I don’t need to do anything. Do you know why? You’re a selfish jerk.”
“I’m a selfish jerk?”
He frames it as a question. That pulls a bark of nervous laughter from me.
His brow furrows. “Why are you laughing? You fucked me over, Sin. You might as well have picked up a knife and stabbed it right through my back and into my heart.”
Tears approach, but I bite them back with a deep sigh. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re the one who stabbed me in the heart.”
He steps closer, his body shadowing mine. I look up and into his face. All I see is pain. It’s the same pain I feel.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” he slurs. “I asked for one thing, Sin. One thing, and you let me down.”
He waves one finger in the air to emphasize his point.
“Is everything all right out here?” Molly’s voice comes from somewhere behind me. “Do I need to remind you two that this is a wedding? It’s a celebration, so try and control yourselves.”
I turn to find her standing next to Kalon.
He raises a hand to greet me, but his gaze is set on Jameson’s face. “Let’s go, James. It’s been a long day.”
Jameson brushes past me. The side of his hand meets mine for the briefest of moments. It’s enough to send a shiver through me.
I don’t say a word as I watch him walk past Kalon and Molly.
“I’m going to save us a prime spot to watch the first dance.” Molly smiles. “Meet me in a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll be right in.”
She turns to walk away. I expect Kalon to do the same, but he steps closer to me.
He’s changed too. His brown hair is shorter than it used to be. His three-piece suit seems misplaced, given that I remember him best in a football uniform.
“James is torn up, Sinclair.” Kalon keeps his gaze on me. “I told him not to come to this fucking wedding after what happened yesterday, but he insisted. Do you know why he insisted?”
The question doesn’t fully register because I’m stuck on what he said about yesterday.
“What?” I manage to whisper. “What are you talking about?”
“He came to this wedding because of you.” His hand rakes his hair. “I tagged along because I didn’t want him to be alone. No one should be alone after a loss like that.”
“A loss?” Dread seeps into my belly. “What loss?”
He studies me before his arms cross his chest. “You don’t know, do you?”
I step closer to him because his game of riddles is raising my blood pressure. “What happened yesterday, Kalon? What loss are you talking about?”
“Denia died.” His voice cracks. “Jameson’s grandma died in her sleep.”