Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Jackson
" Y ou really had to upstage Nathan and Kenji, didn't you." Zack pats me on the shoulder. He motions to the room as if he's addressing an audience of thousands, not four. As if we're in a fully decorated dance hall, not a hotel room with a table of single-serving alcohol and mixers, and a single Just Married banner. "Or maybe you're trying to serve as a warning for them. Like how we watched Gone Girl when you told me you wanted to pop the question."
Kenji laughs. "Did he really make you watch Gone Girl ?"
"Make me? Please. I watch it every year on Valentine's Day. That's our tradition," Nathan says.
"That or another erotic thriller," Kenji says. "Where are the gay ones, by the way?"
"Is that the representation you want?" Zack asks.
"An icy blonde psycho. That's obviously my type." Kenji winks at Nathan.
"You flatter me, baby." Nathan pulls his fiancé into a close embrace. Then a soft kiss. A not so soft kiss.
Zack shakes his head. "We've lost them." He turns his attention back to me. "Do we need to watch Gone Girl . What do you think, Romeo?" For the first time, he acknowledges the guy's presence. "Have you seen the film?"
"I've read the book," he says.
"A sharp portrayal of marriage, huh?" Zack asks.
"How would you know?" I ask. "You're not married."
"Right. Of course." Zack's eyes go wide with evil glee. "You are married now. I can ask you."
"He's been married for twelve hours," Rome says.
"More like sixteen, but, still, that's more than either of us. What do you think, J?" Zack asks.
I don't answer.
"Not sure yet? That's fair." Zack nods. "So let's give the guys what they want. The Last Seduction or Basic Instinct . Your choice, J."
"As long as there's nothing in a courtroom, I'm happy." I can't watch these terrible, unrealistic movies. I know they're not meant to present accurate versions of police work or legal drama, but I can't get past the ridiculous twists. They cause actual pain.
The door beeps open. I turn, expecting Daphne, but it's the other Webb.
Damon steps inside, holding a bag of soda and sparkling cider. He sets the drinks on the table and returns to us. "Can I borrow your brother?" he asks Zack.
"I'm not sure," Zack says. "I'm still thinking of movies where wives turn on their husbands. Do you promise to take over that threat?"
"Daphne killing Jackson?" Damon asks. "Of course. If she asks, I'll help."
"All she has to do is ask? She doesn't need a reason?" Zack asks.
"I'm sure she'll have a reason," Damon says.
"But you don't need to know?" Zack asks.
Damon shakes his head. "Of course not. You wouldn't kill me if Cass asked?"
"Well, yeah, but I don't need to question that. You broke her heart once. And you're fucking annoying. No offense," Zack says.
Damon chuckles. "And you know what? If she asked me to kill you, I'd do that too."
"No questions asked?" Zack asks.
"Of course," Damon says. "She wouldn't ask if she didn't have a good reason."
Zack nods. "I appreciate you trusting her like that."
I walk away from my deranged brother before he can continue his strange banter with Damon or return to listing films. When did he find time to watch all these movies?
I guess that's a perk of life as a professional athlete. He has a lot of time in the offseason.
Damon leads me to the tiny table. He pours himself a club soda and fills a cup with ice for me. "What are you drinking?"
"What if I want it neat?" I ask.
He pours the ice into his drink, hands me the empty cup, motions go ahead . "Not in a friendly mood, huh? I don't blame you." He looks to Zack. "Your brother is a lot."
I nod as I mix a gin and tonic. It's not my usual drink, but it is my favorite highball, and there's no way I'm drinking whiskey out of a red Solo cup. That's wrong. "I don't know that our friendship is at the letting go of drunk marrying a sister level."
"It's not, is it," Damon says. "You only barely like me."
"As a guy, I like you fine," I say. "As Cass's boyfriend…"
"You're apprehensive. I get it. I made my bed. I won't argue." He doesn't add and I know you used to say hell no, never. So, while not a vote of confidence, is a huge improvement. "And I told my sister to go for it."
"You told her to propose marriage?" I ask.
"Fuck no. I told her to hit it and quit it." He chuckles. "But Daphne doesn't like being told what to do." He shrugs so it's no surprise she didn't take my advice . "She's got a lot coming up. With school. A few years she has to focus on herself. I don't know what you two are doing with this whole marriage thing. If you're going to get it annulled when you get home or go with it. Just… promise me you'll take care of her, either way, okay?" He pats my shoulder the way Zack did. "She hates talking about her feelings. She hates asking for help. She needs someone like you. Someone tough and annoying. So whatever this is, I'm happy for you two. Just don't fucking break her heart."
Right on cue, the door swings open. Laurel and Cassie step inside, blocking the view with their bodies.
Laurel moves just enough I see a flash of pink. "Now, presenting, Mrs. Jackson Steele. Just kidding. As if Daphne would ever refer to herself that way. Or take a man's name. But you get what I mean." She steps aside.
Cassie does the same.
Daphne steps into the room in a bright pink dress, her hair pinned at the nape of her neck, her makeup as dramatic as her outfit.
"Of course," I whisper to Damon. "Anything she needs."
He smiles his approval, but I barely notice it. My entire world tunes to Daphne.
She's so fucking beautiful. It defies reasoning.
I meet her in the middle of the room right as a familiar song fills the room. Marvin Gaye. Let's Get it On.
Laurel chuckles. Zack too.
Cassie rolls her eyes.
Damon shoots my brother a look. "Can we be more creative than this?"
"Does the couple have a request for their first dance song," Zack calls. "No commentary from the musical duo allowed."
Cassie mimes zipping her lips.
Damon pulls her into a hug.
"A waltz," Daphne says. "That's one of the styles you know, right?"
I name the first pop-song waltz I can think of, and I guide her into a dance position.
And we move around the room in time with the music. It's messy and silly—we're both out of practice—and perfect for that.
And even though I know this isn't a real marriage, I feel it when I look into her eyes.
And I see it in her smile.
This feels like falling in love.
The grooms join on the next song. We give them space to share the ceremony, then the entire crew steps onto the dance floor and celebrates with us.
After a few songs, Cassie commandeers the stereo and plays a nonstop mix of Daphne's favorite party songs.
What makes them party songs? I don't know. And I don't even consider asking. That's the quickest route to thirty minutes of Cassie and Damon discussing the merits of various styles of music and lyrics.
Whatever the label, the playlist feels right.
Whatever the music, I hold Daphne close, sway with the rhythm. I'm not sure how long we dance. Time slows and speeds at once.
The songs pass in a blink, and they go on forever.
I want that with her. The bliss of feeling every moment. The free fall of pure flow.
Eventually, we break, fix drinks, mingle, eat delivery cheese pizza. We let our friends and family toast to our new beginnings. We bleed into the party.
It's not that I lose myself, exactly. I know where I stop and she begins. Where I stop and the rest of the world begins. But I don't feel the walls I usually do. I don't feel the need to step back, push people away, deny the love others want to offer.
Maybe it's marriage.
Maybe it's all the cheap gin.
I don't know.
I just know I need her.