Chapter 25 #2
A shiver snakes up my spine. I want to lean even closer to him.
To put my lips on his skin. To drag him right back to Camp Bennet, just us, alone.
There’s this desperate, raw need coiling in my chest. It’s like I don’t even care how angry I am, how hurt I am.
I just need him here. Maybe it’s mortifying and wrong, but I still want every second before he’s gone.
I take a huge swig of water, trying to clear my mind, but I’m so tipsy that some of it slides down my chin and I swipe it away quickly with the back of my hand.
Just then, a flash goes off.
I flinch and swivel around, though I can’t find the source of the light. I wobble as I stand up from the barstool and scan the crowd. Where the hell did that flash come from? Is someone here taking photographs?
“Hey, what just happened? You okay?” Nate asks, steadying me.
“Did you see that?” I shout.
“See what?”
“For a second, I was sure that was a camera flash!”
“So what?” Nate asks, confused.
“So someone’s taking photos of us. You didn’t see?”
“I’m sure it was just someone taking pictures of their own group—not us. Why would it matter anyway?” A crease has formed between his brows.
I shake my head. I realize I’m sounding a little paranoid. But I have good reason to be. “It would matter if it were paparazzi,” I shout back. “A bad pic could cost me, Nate. My public life is my job.”
Nate puts a hand on my upper arm. “I get that. But still, paparazzi? Here at Big Jay’s?” He sounds almost amused at the thought, which just makes me angrier.
“Maybe Cara called them,” I retort.
“What?”
“Cara!” I shout. Is it me or has the music gotten even louder?
I lean in closer to Nate, trying to ignore the rush of chemistry that comes over me whenever we’re this close.
“Your sister! She’s gone to the tabloids before.
What’s to stop her from doing it again?” The sober part of my brain knows I sound petulant, but also, it’s not a crazy theory…
Even though I believe what Nate told me about Cara, that she was blindsided by Aaron’s betrayal, the fact remains the girl went to the press with her story at the worst possible moment.
She’s clearly someone who loves drama and the limelight.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nate shouts back.
“Of course I know what I’m talking about. I lived it, Nate!”
“She didn’t go to the tabloids!”
“Yes, she did!”
“No, she didn’t, Nikki,” he shouts. “They came to her!”
I stop and turn to him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s—she—” But before he can clarify, Cara herself finishes her take on “Before He Cheats” and steps off stage… right toward us.
“Y’all are up next,” she says, handing Nate the microphone.
“Cara, we’re kind of in the middle of something,” he says.
“I don’t do karaoke,” I add.
I absolutely do not want to go onstage and make a fool of myself.
I’ve never been one of those people who can have fun being bad at something.
Other people can wail off-key and somehow make the whole crowd cheer—their confidence more than making up for lack of skill.
But my confidence has always come from my skills.
I knew I could win pageants because I had the best smile, the best practiced answers to the questions, the best talent; I knew I could nail a dance routine because I had the best turnout, knew the choreo like the back of my hand.
I do not have the best anything when it comes to singing.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Cara waggles her finger at me.
“All the other Bennet siblings have gone up there…” She’s clearly mimicking the way I cornered her on the boat earlier this week.
“Even me,” she continues, “because I’m joining this family, Nikki Bennet.
In two days. I’m getting married in two days.
” Her smile flickers, then collapses at the edges.
“I’m getting married,” she whispers. “In two days.” Her eyes go glassy in a way that’s both sentimental and vaguely panicked—or maybe just drunk.
Looks like Cara might be even tipsier than I am.
“Okay, okay.” Nate places a steadying hand at the small of her back and offers her his water. She greedily sucks down what’s left of it.
Then he turns to me. “Come on, let’s do it. Consider it our gift to the bride,” he says, with a fond eye roll. “We can do ‘The Heart Won’t Lie.’ You be Reba, and I’ll be Vince.”
“No.” The idea of singing a song about unspoken truths and unfulfilled romance is way more than I can take right now, looking into Nate’s playful gaze. “That’s a couple’s song. We’re not a couple.”
The words drag painfully against my throat.
Nate darts a glance sideways at Cara, who’s watching us with a sly grin. “I know…” he says, slowly. “I realize that.”
But he looks like it’s new information.
No. No way. He does not get to act like the surprised, wounded party.
But he recovers quickly. “Cooper and JP aren’t a couple either,” he points out, “and they just did a rousing rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On.’”
“I really don’t want to,” I mumble.
His gaze sharpens into something more scrutinizing, and I lower my eyes to my glass to avoid the heat of it. Finally, he backs off. “Okay. Guess I’m on my own for this one.”
“Do ‘Tennessee Whiskey’!” Cara cries.
“Not that one.” Nate shakes his head.
“Please,” Cara whines. “Come on. I looooove that song, and you’re so good at it.”
“Cara,” Nate says. His voice is laced with warning, and he actually looks kind of agitated, narrowing his eyes at his sister.
Cara turns to me conspiratorially. “He used to sing it for his ex-girlfriend all the time. They were together forever. I think he’s just embarrassed now.”
I blink, caught off guard. Forever?
Is she talking about Sarah?
The crowd noise—laughing, clinking glasses, the low hum of background music—feels like it’s pressing in from all sides.
“If Nikki’s not singing, I’m not either,” Nate says. “Sorry, sis.” He hands her back the mic.
She shrugs. “Suit yourselves. I’ll leave you to it. Go back to arguing about LovedBy.”
“LovedBy?” Nate asks.
“Isn’t that what you were talking about?” Cara says. She takes a long, slurping sip from the straw in the water glass and seems surprised when it comes up empty. “How Nikki’s going back on the show?”
“She didn’t actually accept it,” Nate corrects.
Cara levels me with a look. Her eyes are bloodshot, but sharper, no longer glassy. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Nate asks, his gaze darting between the two of us.
“My lord, this family and their secrets…” Cara mutters.
“Cara,” Nate warns.
She rolls her eyes. “I heard her on the phone earlier today, talking to someone from the show,” she tells her brother. “She said she’d be ‘honored to return to the LovedBy franchise.’”
And with that, Cara saunters off to join her friends. Soon enough, one of the Leg Tears has taken the stage and commandeered the mic again.
“You made your decision, huh?” Nate says, a hard look descending over his face. “Well, congrats, I guess. Cheers to you.” Then he salutes me, stands up, and walks away—straight through the crowd and out the front door.