Chapter 19 #2
Brielle stiffens beside me, and I instinctively put my hand on her lower back. This woman has barely spoken to us, and I already don’t like her. Only because I can tell that Brielle doesn’t like her.
This must be the cousin.
“I said I wasn’t sure,” Evelyn adds. “Bri just started at her job, and she wasn’t sure if she could convince her tyrant of a boss to make an exception to the paid time off policy.” She turns to Brielle with a question in her eyes. “I never asked, but was it hard to convince the jerk?”
Laughter shakes her shoulders as she tries to keep it in.
She shakes her head to give herself a moment before she opens her mouth.
I glance at her, my brow raised in waiting.
“Nope. He caved immediately,” she says. “He’s not as scary as people made him out to be. I think he’s secretly a big softie.”
I close my fist around the fabric of her dress, pulling it tight, and lower my head until my lips brush the shell of her ear. “He’s not,” I whisper just for her.
The cousin just plows through as if the conversation isn’t happening around her.
“Jason is around here somewhere, if you want to say hi to him,” she says.
Her eyes get soft, and her mouth turns down at the sides.
She places her hand on her heart. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. We completely understand.”
“Who’s this?” I ask, bringing her attention to me.
“Damian, this is my cousin, Cassie—”
“It’s Cassandra,” she says, her tone oozing condescension. “I’m the one married to Jason.”
I move my hand to Brielle’s hair, caressing her silky locks and letting them fall through my fingers. “And who’s Jason?”
Cassie… Cassandra… sneers at me. “Jason is the guy who broke poor Bri’s heart. And you are?”
“The guy that’s not,” I say.
Brielle looks at me with those clear blue eyes shining with pride. I grip her jaw, holding her still, as I bring my mouth to hers.
I’m putting on a show for her cousin’s sake, and it’s a damn good one. I don’t give a fuck if this woman or her husband or anyone else thinks that Brielle’s heart was broken by some high school tool. They’ll know her heart isn’t broken now. They’ll all know that she’s moved on. With me.
I savor the taste of her lips for another second before I release her from my grasp.
Her glazed eyes slowly clear before she turns back to her cousin. “Cassie, this is Damian, my boyfriend.”
“It’s Cassandra now, remember,” she says haughtily. “And I didn’t realize you were seeing people again. I’m really glad for you.” The fake sympathy in her voice grates on my nerves.
Evelyn rolls her eyes. I think even Jeff huffs a disapproving sigh. The other people that were with us a moment ago take their leave.
“I’ve always been dating… you know what…” Brielle’s words fall away as her cousin’s shines an extravagant smile over her shoulder, her fingers dancing in a flirty little wave.
“My beautiful wife. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
The man who’s just joined us is everything I expected him to be.
In his mid to late twenties, like Brielle, he has the arrogance of a mediocre high school jock whose glory days will forever be behind him.
He’s wearing a pair of navy pants and a tan shirt, his light brown hair messy in an intentional kind of way.
He gives his wife a kiss, but when he tries to pull back, she grabs his face and takes the kiss dirty before finally letting go of his face.
“Hey, Ev, Jeff… Bri.” He breathes her name, acting as if he didn’t know she was there. It’s as fake as the Rolex watch on his wrist. “How have you been? We never see you anymore, with you running away to the other side of the country and all.”
“I didn’t run away, Jason. I moved away for college. You knew that Boston University was my top choice,” Brielle sighs, her shoulders heavy.
Jason smirks. “We knew a lot about each other back then.” I don’t like the familiar tone he’s using. Cassie’s nose flares, but she quickly puts her smile back in place. She wraps her arms over his shoulder, but he’s still locked eyes with Brielle.
Brielle shifts toward me again. I’m not sure if she realizes she doing it. I put my hand on the small of her back, letting her know that I’m still here, right beside her. “That was a long time ago. Now you know Cassie like that.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Bri,” he says all too quietly, his wife right beside him.
Brielle looks at him, her brows pinched. “You didn’t.”
I pull Brielle back a step from this jackass and straighten my spine beside her.
Jason looks up at me and takes a step back.
He seems to realize that he showed his cards a little too clearly for everyone to see, specifically his wife.
He turns to her, and the look she gives him makes my balls want to retract into my body on his behalf.
She turns and stalks away without a word.
“You might want to check on your lady. And stay the fuck away from mine,” I say, my voice low and calm, the threat no less present. I thread my fingers through Brielle’s and drag her away without another word. I can hear Evelyn’s shocked laugh as we trail away.
I lead her to the small bar on the side of the room and order a bourbon neat for myself. “And whatever the lady would like.”
“Can you make an espresso martini?” she asks.
“Of course. Coming right up.”
I give the bartender my card, and we collect our drinks. Brielle guides me around the room, introducing me to people and chatting with her family. And all my while, my hand stays wrapped around her waist, her shoulders, lightly pressing into her lower back, or grazing her hip.
The afternoon turns into evening, and after another bout of dancing, Brielle joins me at the table we’ve claimed.
I ordered her another espresso martini while she was on the dance floor, and she takes a sip as soon as she sits.
A few other people are seated at this table, but it’s more informal, with people mingling, dancing, and talking.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m so glad I was able to get out here for this. I would have been upset to miss it,” she says. She turns to face me fully, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Thank you,” she adds.
Brielle’s hand lands on my thigh under the table. Heat spikes in my veins, and I widen my knees on reflex. I want her hand on my skin. I want to feel her touch without the barrier of clothes. I fucking crave it. Her palm travels higher, gliding down, then back up, teasing me with her touch.
“Be careful, beautiful. You’re getting awfully close to starting something,” I whisper to her.
Her flushed cheeks round with a sultry smile.
“Or what?”
Fuck. She looks so pretty, her blue eyes shining, laughter, challenge, and heat in her gaze.
“Or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and take you somewhere quiet.”
Her hand stills, as far up my thigh as she can get, her thumb in the crook of my groin. And then she squeezes, turning in her seat and placing a soft kiss to my jaw.
I growl, instantly hard.
She stares into my eyes, wheels turning inside her head. Her chair scrapes back against the linoleum floor, and she grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet.
I don’t know if she’s taking me to the dance floor, or to socialize with more of her family, or to find a fucking broom closet that's big enough to bend her over in, but I’ll follow her anywhere, so it doesn’t really matter.
She leads me to her grandparents at the front of the room.
“Grams, Gramps,” she says loudly. “I just wanted to say congratulations again. I love you both so much.” She squeezes her grandmother’s shoulders lightly. As they embrace, I reach out my hand to her grandfather.
“Congratulations, sir. Sixty years is impressive, especially in this day and age.”
“It’s easy when you’ve found the right one,” he says, jovially.
“That’s a lie,” her grandmother shouts as Brielle and I change places.
I place her hand in mine and offer a polite squeeze.
“It’s a choice. It’s a choice every day.
And not always an easy one. Sometimes, you wake up and think, ‘There’s my love, my life, the person I can’t live without,’ and other times, you wake up and think, ‘What the hell have I done?’ Those are the days that you have to make a choice, to remember the good days, to value your vows, to believe that no matter what, your life is better because they are in it. ”
“Those are wise words, Mrs. Collins,” I tell her.
Brielle says goodbye to a few more people on the way out as I replay what her grandmother said.
Is it really that easy to not let things fall apart?
Just choose each other? Every day?
The idea that a relationship could actually last a lifetime, that it wasn’t guaranteed to fail, ruining everything I’ve built, never crossed my mind.
Sixty years is a long damn time.
They weren’t immune to relationship issues in all that time. They just chose to face them, work through them, and choose each other every day.
The evidence that it could work, really work, is in front of me, but until today, I had never considered it a possibility.
But what if it was?