Chapter 12
“Bryony, you cannot go around trying to irritate Amelia. She’s irritated enough by life as it is.”
“All I did was get lost in a book on this ‘luxury’ getaway I was promised. What is possibly wrong with reading? I’m an author. It’s a universal vice of ours. We can’t withstand the temptation of good literature.”
“It was a nonfiction book about reducing the corporate tax rate from 21 to 15 percent.”
It took one look at Amelia’s screwed-up face onstage, then one look to me standing there in the corner with a smile on my
face, before Jack was grabbing my hand and steering me out the door.
It’s a welcome change.
The view of the ocean opposite the strip of rainbow-colored shops is perfection in a shot. Tanned children racing along piping-hot
white sand, giggling with boogie boards in hand. The sea a bright blue-green aquarium of colors. My face immediately warmed
by the sun and the wet, salty sea air.
Even Jack’s hand, still holding on to mine, seems to fit inside this moment.
The pressure and intentionality as he holds it clasped protectively, all while eyeing the inside of the store in distraction.
I clasp my champagne glass and fight a little rise in my stomach. I find myself unwilling to be the first to let go.
What is wrong with me?
What in the been-single-a-sum-total-of-four-hours is wrong with me?
That’s a very good question to ask.
Later.
Jack turns his attention back to me when we’re out of sight and then swivels me around to face him, looking down at me like I’m his misbehaving puppy.
He looks down at our entwined hands.
And for one long, deep moment says nothing. Does... nothing.
Just stands there with me on this wind-beaten shopping boardwalk as we listen to the sound of waves and children, holding
on to each other in a moment of surprise.
“Let’s... take a walk.” Jack’s voice is different than it was a moment ago. He begins to walk and slowly lets go of my
hand. He takes a few more steps. Stuffs his own hand into his pocket. “Bryony, I can’t protect you if you try to sabotage Amelia.”
“I wasn’t trying . Okay, fine, I was just a tiny bit. But she looked at this poor woman,” I say accusingly.
There’s a pause.
“And...?”
“She did that look of hers! That evil look!” I cry out. “You know the one.”
“Look. I know she can be—”
“—a cold-blooded, man-eating dragon—”
“—but she—”
“—makes you loads of money with her schemes—”
“—and I—”
“—don’t want to have to start wearing off-brand Polo—”
“Stop.” His fingers are on my lips to shush me. The touch is electric. “No,” he says softly. “What I’m trying to say is, I
know she can be impossible to deal with, but she has afforded you an opportunity to do something about something you love,
and I refuse to let you lose it.”
My heart has stopped.
My brain, stopped.
I’m suddenly stuck in this moment, this seagull-overhead, sea-breeze-all-around, surreal moment.
“So can you please do me a favor and try to step back to see the forest and the trees here? I’m only watching out for you.”
I press my lips together, unable to break myself away from his fingers on my lips and the intensity of his gaze.
“Well.” I clear my throat. “Well,” I say again. “You are good at your job, aren’t you? Is this how you win over all your clients?”
His eyes twinkle. “Why do you think old Mrs. Hastings has stayed with me so long?”
We share a grin.
But it’s different now. Oh gosh , is this what Parker was referring to? Have we been like this all along?
Gloria’s words are splashing around me now. Parker’s. But I never did anything about it. I still haven’t , and that counts.
Not to mention, there are stakes here. Jack may not feel this way about me at all. In fact, I remember with a mental thud,
he doesn’t, of course. There’s Claire.
Or is it Chloe?
Whatever. There’s Claire/Chloe.
We turn back around, make it until we are in sight of the bookshop, and stop again.
Jack turns to me. “I know things are... tough right now. In lots of ways. We’re heading to the Keys tonight. But how about
we stop in town and I take you out? Just... you and me. To get your mind off things.”
Is he asking me out?
Out out?
And am I okay... actually, quite fine... with him asking me out?
“Do you think... Claire would mind?” I venture. “Or... I mean... Chloe?”
He lets out a noiseless exhale of a laugh. Takes a little step closer. “I think we landed on Chloe.”
“Oh. Ha ,” I say as bells are exploding in my head. We’ve apparently been dating figments of our imaginations. Terrific. “Right.”
I snap my fingers and point at him. It’s pretty much the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. “Great. That sounds like a perfect
idea then. Dinner. You and me. Not new. Although—”
His expression shifts warily at the word, and his reaction almost makes my heart burst then and there. And all of a sudden I see his confident mask slip off his face, just a little, revealing he actually does care quite a bit about my response.
He’s asking me out.
I think.
“I am two thousand words behind in my writing today. I’ll be counting on you to keep me awake and writing when we get back.
Maybe prod me with a pencil every time I start to doze.”
And there the old, confident Jack is. His eyes shift up to somebody in the bookshop snapping for our attention, and he puts
a hand behind my back, gliding us forward.
“Sure thing. I have just the white pens you go all weepy over for the task.”