Chapter Sixteen
Mitch
His ribs struggled against the material of his shirt, the buttons ready to pop, his lungs not capable of taking in enough air. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off Jackie.
Her throat bobbed with a swallow. “You do?”
Mitch pressed his lips together, saved from answering by their food arriving on elegant porcelain plates.
He thanked the waitress with a smile and drank in the mouthwatering aroma of his lamb birria.
It looked divine. But even the combination of the sudden gut-twisting hunger and delicious food didn’t lessen the weight of Jackie’s eyes on him.
She didn’t move to pick up her fork. Her elbows were off the table, her hands probably gripping her knees. She used to do that a lot whenever she was nervous. Maybe some things had changed but, Mitch hazarded a guess, this hadn’t.
“What do you think, Jackie?” There was more bite to his voice than he’d intended.
Honestly, though, had she forgotten anything about those years?
Sometimes, he wished he could’ve done just that.
Early on after she left, if someone had offered him a chance to scrub up all the memories of her, he’d have blindly agreed to it.
A clean slate. A chance at not hurting every time he thought about her.
What if he was only preparing himself for more heartbreak, opening his heart again to her? After what Eve did …
His heart seized.
For once, he wanted to be picked instead of being left behind.
His gaze flickered back to Jackie.
Her chest rose and fell, uncertainty glistening in her eyes. She bit the corner of her lip, her shaky hand reaching for a neatly folded napkin over her cutlery. Wrapping her fingers around the fork, she stuck it into the reddish-hued rice overflowing with seafood.
Swallowing down his disappointment as she chose not to take the bait, he shoveled a couple of forkfuls of the lamb into his mouth. The slow-cooked meat melted on his tongue, and he groaned as the spice and smoke reached his taste buds.
Jackie wordlessly rested her fork on the edge of her plate.
Mitch didn’t know what he was hoping to get out of this: the dinner, speaking with her …
Closure would be the logical thing. But he wasn’t sure that was what was driving his indiscernible need to be close to her.
Confused didn’t even cover the extent of his feelings.
Maybe if they spent some time together, talked and caught up on their lives, and she told him why she left …
Then, maybe, he could move on with his life.
Echoes of the whispered wishes upon falling stars, forehead kisses and pinky promises rattled in his brain.
Mitch chewed his food, his eyes following her every movement.
Jackie reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself a large glass. Lifting it to her lips, she turned her head to the sea, her wistful features darker than the waves crashing against the shore.
Sighing, he emptied the bottle into his wineglass.
“What’s her name?” Jackie asked, finally, still not looking at him.
He didn’t have to ask who she meant. “Eve.”
She nodded, once. “You said the guy was her client. What does she do?”
“She’s Lionel Webster’s tour manager.” He winced. “You might’ve not heard of him—”
“Are you kidding? I love his music,” Jackie exclaimed, face all lit up. Her smile dropped when she caught his glare. “I mean … He seems like a pompous ass.”
Mitch drained his wine in a single gulp. “He’s a fucking dick.” Glass clinked against the table. “You know what’s the most ironic part? Apparently, he loved her too. Asked her not to marry me, and to be with him instead. The nerve of that guy.”
A bitter laugh rumbled from deep down in his chest. He hadn’t really thought much about Eve since he got to Mexican Jewel, too preoccupied with the shock of seeing Jackie again.
Jackie’s demeanor remained impassive. “Did you love her?”
“I did.” He looked up at her. “I genuinely thought we could spend our lives together.”
Jackie drew in a shaky breath; her eyes still bear into the inky navy sea. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. You deserve to be happy.”
His bruised heart picked up a bittersweet beat, like it recognized the home it had been missing for ten years but knew it could never go back there. So much had changed, but this one thing—him desperately wishing only the best for her—had stayed the same.
“So do you,” he replied reflexively.
Finally, she turned and fixed her gaze on him. There was so much hidden depth in her eyes. He couldn’t decode it. Layers of heartache and regret came up to the front, fogging the secrecy and withdrawal.
Feeling an uncontrollable urge, Mitch’s hand moved up the table, inching further and further up, up, up … Until it reached the tips of her fingers, encasing them.
The restaurant basked in a golden light as their skin made contact. Everything else fell away. Other guests seemed to freeze in their seats, their movements languishing as the chatter died down. It was as if it was just them. Two hearts stuttering to the sweet hum of the sea.
“What are we doing, Mitch?” she whispered, untangling their fingers. But she didn’t move her hand away.
Emotion swelled at the back of his throat. “Getting to know each other again.” Before reason had a chance to regain control, he brought his thumb to her wrist, pressing it into her pulse point. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I never expected to see you again.”
Jackie’s eyes snapped open. Her pulse tapped haphazardly underneath his fingertip. “Mitch from Portland, you’ve always been a poet. Sweet-talking your way out of even the stickiest situations.”
A lonely ribbon of affection twirled inside his stomach, wrapping itself around his gut.
Her using his old nickname, one that only she’d ever used, did something to his heart.
It altered its rhythm, his heartbeat pausing to synchronize with hers.
It had been so long that all its cogs had rusted over.
But no matter all that. Mitch knew it still remembered how to beat, for her.
“Only when you’re the instigator of them,” he replied, unable to hide his smile.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
Jackie dipped her chin, chewing on her bottom lip.
The candlelight warmed her black, shoulder-length hair.
He’d spent the entire dinner trying not to look at her.
Sure, he’d seen her—the blue dress matching her eyes; her bare, lightly tanned shoulders; and her face that he could still draw from memory: the small, perfectly round mole on the right-side of her forehead, slightly below her hairline.
Her straight white teeth; he still remembered the first time he’d remarked on them and she’d told him about the braces she’d worn until she was sixteen.
The tip of her tongue ran between her lips and his heart flipped.
This felt like falling in love all over again. Or didn’t it count, if he possibly had never fallen out of love to begin with?
“What are your plans for the rest of your stay?” she asked.
His cheeks reddened. “Well, most of the things I had planned were honeymoon-type activities.”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. Stupid of me to ask.”
He laughed as the horror in her eyes made him realize she’d been thinking about bedroom activities.
To be honest, he did imagine that when he’d planned the honeymoon, too.
“Not in that way. I thought about Puerto Morelos, Chichen Itza, maybe kayaking in Nichupté Lagoon—and I wanted to try some wild swimming in the famed cenotes.”
Jackie’s brows rose in a slow arch. “Have the hotel guides got to you with their sales pitches?”
“I spoke with Luis earlier today. Apologized for my rather unfortunate state on arrival.”
“Ah, I should’ve guessed. He’s obsessed with cenotes.”
“Have you seen any good ones?”
A wide smile split her lips. “The Yucatán Peninsula is known for them. Mysterious sinkholes with crystal-clear water? They’re like a reminder of nature’s glory.
Of course I have. Actually, they’re my favorite thing about this place.
There are tons of them around, thousands.
Some are much better than others. Especially if you don’t like crowds—the most popular ones get so busy, it’s hard to enjoy it. ”
He bit back an affectionate smile. “You’ve never minded crowds before.”
Jackie huffed. “Well, now I do. I told you, I’m not the same girl you used to know. I’m much more into a book with a glass of wine by the fireplace than partying until late at night. Peace and quiet.”
“That’s fair. Though, I still like to go out clubbing every now and then myself.”
She trilled a laugh. “Mitch Craigton, willingly going to a club, and in his thirties? Wow. Did I step through the looking glass?”
“You’ve said it yourself: people change.” He held her gaze. “Even though some things stay the same.”
Deep down, he wanted to ask her about the night she left.
About the note. About the why. He wanted to know if it had shattered her even half as much as it had shattered him; but he knew that if he went too fast, pushed too hard, he’d scare her away.
He worried that his face might’ve done all the asking already.
All the unspoken words threaded like shimmering gold between them.
Jackie coughed, looking away. “Mexican Jewel must seem rather boring to you, then. I’m afraid the wildest entertainment happening here are our Thrilling Thursdays.”
“Sounds … intriguing.”
“All it means is a live band taking song requests from the guests for the first half of the night and then karaoke until late. There’s drinking, dancing and some laughter, but that’s about it.”
She shook her head, but he didn’t miss the way the right corner of her lips quirked up in a small half-smile. It knocked some air from his lungs as he remembered all the times he’d seen that exact smile, most notably when she’d watched him ride. That reminded him …
“Did you ever go back to barrel racing?”
“No.”
He waited to see if she would say anything else, but she pursed her lips, shifting her attention to her fingers.
“Do you miss it?” he asked.
Jackie shrugged, like it was unimportant. “Sometimes. But I still get to ride. Even here, there’s a great horse-riding excursion farm not far from the hotel. You might want to check it out.” She pushed her fingernails into the palm of her hand. “When did you stop swimming competitively?”
A shiver ran down his spine, opening the gates wide open for the intrusive thoughts. A sudden itch pulsated through his left thigh. Absentmindedly, he scratched the spot under the table, hoping she didn’t see. “After college.”
That was it, he wouldn’t burden her with more details. What was there to say anyway? He’d been young and stupid. It was not her fault, but knowing Jackie as he did—or at least the younger version of her—he knew she’d blame herself. He wouldn’t do that to her.