Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
JENNY
C aroline fusses over me like a proud older sister as she adjusts the halter strap of my emerald- green dress. The fabric hugs my curves perfectly, the fitted waist flaring gently at my knees. It’s elegant yet understated…exactly what I wanted. She steps back, her eyes lighting up.
“You look incredible,” she says, her hands clasped together. “Brett’s going to lose his mind.”
I laugh nervously, smoothing the fabric at my hips. “You think it’s not too much? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
Caroline shakes her head. “Jenny, you look stunning. Besides, this is Brett. The man’s been chasing you since he got back. He needs to see what he’s up against.” She winks.
Her words make me smile, but there’s a twinge of something deeper beneath the surface. This is what I’ve always dreamed of…Brett taking me out, showing me off, treating me like I’m someone special. But now that it’s happening, there’s a weight in my chest I can’t ignore. I should be overjoyed, yet the thought of sitting across from him tonight feels... hollow.
Because no matter how much I’ve wanted this, I can’t stop the flashes of Zack that invade my thoughts…his voice, his touch, the way he looked at me like he saw more than I wanted him to. It’s wrong. So wrong. Brett is the one I’ve loved all my life, so why does it feel like I’m betraying something I can’t even name?
Caroline gives me a final once-over, tugging at the hem of my dress before stepping back. “You’ve got this. Just... be yourself.”
I nod, though my chest feels heavy. “Thanks, Caroline.”
The knock at the door comes a moment later, startling me out of my thoughts. Caroline grins knowingly and steps aside as I open the door.
Brett stands there, leaning casually against the frame, his golden hair styled just enough to look effortlessly perfect. His tailored blazer clings to his shoulders, and the sight of him makes my breath hitch. He looks every bit the charming prince I used to imagine when I was younger.
“Wow,” he says, his grin widening as his gaze sweeps over me. “You look amazing, Jenny.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I glance down briefly before meeting his eyes. “Thanks. I thought we were meeting in the kitchen?”
He straightens, stepping back slightly. “Change of plans. I figured dinner at home wasn’t good enough for someone like you.”
I blink in surprise. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” he says, his grin softening. “I’ve made reservations in Manhattan. Thought it’d be more fitting.”
My heart flutters at his words, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says, his voice warm. “Come on, let’s go.”
He leads me outside, and I follow, trying to ignore the nervous energy coursing through me.
When we reach the car, he opens the passenger door for me with a playful flourish. “Your chariot awaits.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” I reply, laughing softly as I slide into the seat. He closes the door and circles around to the driver’s side, settling in with an easy confidence that only Brett could manage.
The drive to Manhattan is quiet at first, the hum of the car filling the space between us. I play with the hem of my dress, sneaking glances at him as he navigates the city streets.
“So,” he begins, breaking the silence. “How was Rome? Zack didn’t drive you too crazy, did he?”
I stiffen at the mention of Zack, my fingers freezing mid-fidget. “No, he didn’t,” I say carefully, keeping my tone light.
Brett chuckles, glancing at me briefly. “Good. Sometimes he can be... intense. Efficient, yeah, but also stuck-up as hell.”
I force a small laugh, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. “He was fine.”
“Fine, huh?” Brett teases, his tone playful. “I hope he wasn’t too intimidating. I mean, the guy’s got this whole brooding CEO vibe, but he’s not all bad. Mostly.”
I don’t respond immediately, my mind swirling with images of Zack…his rare, unguarded smiles, the warmth of his touch, the way he made me feel both seen and exposed at once. The thought sends a pang through my chest, and I quickly push it away.
“He was fine,” I repeat softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Brett doesn’t push further, and the rest of the drive is marked by small talk that feels forced, like we’re both trying too hard to fill the silence. When we finally pull up in front of the restaurant, I exhale, relieved for the change of scenery.
The restaurant is breathtaking…warm lights, soft music, and an air of sophistication that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into another world. Brett places his hand lightly on my back as we’re led to our table, and I let myself relax, just a little. This is what I’ve always wanted, I remind myself. Brett, charming and attentive, treating me like I matter.
The dinner starts smoothly. He orders a bottle of wine without even glancing at the menu, and I let him take the lead, trying to savor the moment. We talk about my time in Paris, my modeling career, and his usual antics that always seem to leave him unscathed. His laugh is infectious, his stories full of humor and bravado, and for a while, I let myself get lost in the fantasy of it all.
But then he asks about Zack again.
“So, what’s it like traveling with him? I imagine it’s... intense.”
The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate. “It was fine,” I say, my tone sharper than I intend.
Brett raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine again? That’s all you’ve got? Come on, Jenny, don’t hold out on me.”
I force a laugh, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to tell. Zack is... Zack.”
“Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “All business, no fun. Must’ve been exhausting.”
You have no idea, I think, but I keep the words to myself. Instead, I smile tightly, changing the subject to the food. Brett lets it go, but the conversation feels heavier after that, like we’re both aware of the unspoken tension lingering between us.
As the night goes on, I do my best to focus on him, to remind myself of all the reasons I’ve wanted this for so long. Brett is charming, sweet, and everything I used to dream about. But as he takes my hand across the table and smiles at me, I can’t help but feel like something’s missing. Like a part of me is somewhere else…somewhere I shouldn’t be.
Eventually, we head back home, and just like that, the night I had dreamed of for so long and for so many years comes to an end, and I cannot believe how underwhelmed I am.
I don’t even wait for him to get the door for me. I get out myself, trying my best to force a smile, trying my best to convince myself that this was all I’ve ever wanted.
He comes after me, smiling and excited, and suddenly that playful ease of his is not something I want to be around and fancy. It’s not special, I realize as I stop and turn around to wait for him. Zack rarely smiles in this way, and so when he does, the moments he does with me hit like the entire world filled with light.
Now I know the very stark difference between genuine and niceties, and it almost makes me sick to my stomach that I didn’t see this from the very beginning.
The front porch feels colder than it should, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the car Brett just stepped out of. He stands before me, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, the faintest smile on his lips as he glances toward the sprawling estate behind me.
“I should head back to my apartment in Manhattan,” he says after a moment, his tone light but edged with something I can’t quite place. “Long day tomorrow.”
I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Relief rushes through me, sharp and immediate, though it brings its own weight of guilt. I’d been dreading the possibility of things escalating tonight, and now that it won’t happen, I feel unmoored by how glad I am. But yet and once again I grapple with myself for being so conflicted about this? Worried that I’m making a mistake. This is Brett. The Brett I’ve wanted forever. I should want more.
“Did you have a nice time tonight?” he asks, and I work up a smile, nodding.
“I did,” I reply. “Thank you for going the extra mile. I truly appreciated it.”
He beams, floored by the compliment, and then he comes in a little closer to me.
I want to step back out of instinct, but it takes all the restraint in the world not to.
His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and then he leans in.
The kiss is soft, measured, like he’s testing the waters. His lips are warm and skilled, moving against mine with practiced ease. It’s everything a kiss with Brett Jackson should be…sweet, unhurried, and perfectly executed. I kiss him back because it feels like the right thing to do. Because isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for?
Yet as he pulls away and steps back with a grin, something inside me wilts.
“Wow,” he comments, seemingly stunned. “You… that was wonderful, Jenny. I can’t believe I’ve waited so long to do that.”
I absolutely do not share in this sentiment, but I respond in kind.
“Yeah,” I reply. “It was good, thank you.”
“I’ll see you soon?” he asks, and I nod because what else am I supposed to do?
Beaming once again, he turns around to leave, and I watch him walk to his car, the taillights a fading glow as he drives away, and all I feel is a suffocating wave of disappointment. My heart had barely fluttered.
The realization is a stab to my chest.
The memory of Zack’s kiss lingers in my mind, sharp and vivid. It wasn’t sweet or measured. It had been raw, consuming, and so unapologetically him that it had made me feel like I was losing my grip on reality. And now, standing here in the quiet, I miss him so much it physically aches.
I don’t go to my room. The thought of sitting alone with these swirling emotions is unbearable, so I turn toward the kitchen instead.
It doesn’t take me long to find what I am looking for…one of the opened bottles of wine in the corner. I pick it up, but didn’t want to have it here alone in the dark so I head out of the kitchen.
The soft glow of the moonlight spills through the conservatory windows as I step inside. The cool air feels like a balm against the flush in my cheeks, a reminder that I’m no longer in Brett’s car, no longer under the weight of a kiss that felt hollow despite its perfection. My hand tightens around the neck of the wine bottle.
Soon I set it down on the coffee table and stare, the label blurred through the haze of emotions swirling in my chest. My fingers brush over the glass, hesitating before reaching for the corkscrew. The silence presses down on me, amplifying my thoughts and concerns.
Why do I feel like this? Why does it feel like I’m breaking apart?
I sink into one of the chairs, the bottle untouched, and rest my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands.
Kissing me under the stars. It should have been perfect. Instead, it felt like I was standing outside myself, watching a moment that didn’t belong to me. My lips had moved against his, but my mind… my heart… had been elsewhere.
With him. With Zack.
I press my palms harder against my face, as if I can push the thoughts away. But they linger, growing heavier with each passing second. The sound of the conservatory doors creaking open pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. My head snaps up, and I freeze as a low voice cuts through the quiet.
“You’ve still not learned your lesson about alcohol, I see.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. Slowly, I turn, my breath catching when I see him. Zack stands in the shadows near the French doors, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, the light from the windows casting his face in sharp relief. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes…something that makes my heart race.
The sight of him is a punch to the gut. I’ve missed him so much it physically hurts, and now, with him here, the ache only intensifies.
“It makes you tipsy,” he continues, his voice low and rough, “and you can barely control yourself afterward.”
I stare at him, the words sinking in slowly. My lips part to respond, but nothing comes out. The air between us feels charged, thick with everything unsaid. My hand moves instinctively to the back of the chair for support, and I cling to it, feeling as though the ground might give way beneath me.
The silence stretches, taut and unbearable. Finally, I manage to speak, my voice unsteady. “I… I don’t want to control myself.”
His eyes narrow slightly, his head tilting just enough to make me feel like he’s seeing through me, into me. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step closer, and I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move.
“Why is that?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm. But there’s an edge to it, something sharp and dangerous that makes my pulse thunder in my ears.
I swallow hard, my grip on the chair tightening. “Because,” I whisper, the word barely audible. I don’t finish the sentence because I don’t know how. How do I tell him that I feel like I’m unraveling, that every thought I have leads back to him? That even sitting across from Brett tonight, all I could think about was him?
He takes another step closer, the distance between us shrinking. “Jenny,” he says softly, his voice rough and achingly familiar. My name on his lips is a tether, pulling me toward him even as my mind screams at me to stop.
“I…” My voice cracks, and I shake my head, unable to look at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice is low and steady. “How was your date?”
The question hits me like a slap, and I flinch, my head snapping up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear, and I drop my gaze, focusing on the floor instead. “It was fine,” I lie, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Fine,” he repeats, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes my chest tighten. “So that’s it, then? Everything you’ve ever wanted?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears back. “I thought it was,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But… I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I want.”
His footsteps are soft against the tiled floor, but I feel every step like a jolt to my system. When I open my eyes, he’s standing directly in front of me, so close I can see the faint lines of tension around his mouth. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is overwhelming, like gravity pulling me toward him.
“Jenny,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy and impossible. My lips part, but before I can answer, his hand lifts to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. The touch sends a shiver through me, and I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his palm despite myself.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
He tilts my chin up gently, his eyes locking onto mine. “Yes, you do,” he says, his voice low and certain. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
The room feels too small, the air too thick. Every inch of me screams to answer him, but my voice refuses to cooperate. And then his lips are on mine, slow and deliberate, claiming me in a way that sends my head spinning. This isn’t like Brett’s kiss…this is something entirely different. Zack kisses me like he’s unraveling me piece by piece, like he’s pulling down every wall I’ve built.
The distance between us disappears as his lips brush against mine, slow and deliberate, and the world falls away. The kiss isn’t rushed or frantic…it’s steady, like he’s savoring every second. My hands move on their own, gripping the front of his shirt as I pull him closer, desperate for more.
The world fades away, and all that’s left is him…his lips, his hands, the way his body fits against mine. The kiss deepens, slow and sensual, and it’s like he’s drawing every ounce of tension and longing out of me, leaving nothing but raw need in its place. My fingers grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to lose myself in him completely.
When we finally pull apart, my chest is heaving, my thoughts a jumbled mess. His forehead rests against mine, his hands still cradling my face as he searches my eyes.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and barely steady. “What do you want, Jenny?”
I close my eyes, the weight of his question pressing down on me. I don’t have the answer…not yet. But in this moment, with his lips still tingling on mine, all I know is that I never want him to stop asking.