Chapter Thirty-Two
January, ten years ago
Jackie
“Betty, you wonderful, wonderful woman! Another round of tequila, pleaseeeee,” Jackie sang, tilting her head with a full grin across her lips. She leaned over the bar of Betty’s Hens, her head heavy.
Betty chortled. “You know how to celebrate, Jacks.”
Jackie hit the bar with her palm. “It isn’t every day all your dreams come true.”
“And it’s only the beginning.” Mitch appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “We’ll take two rounds, both on me.”
Betty nodded at him and lined eight tequila glasses on a circular tray.
Jackie spun round, putting her palms against his chest. “I can pay for our drinks.”
“I know. But you paid earlier, then Lyla did, then Nick—it’s my turn now.” He winked at her.
She sighed, slumping against his side. She was too happy and too tipsy to argue with him. “Fine,” she murmured into his shirt.
His palm pressed into the small of her back. “Lyla said she’s dragging you line-dancing ‘Footloose’ when it comes on.”
Jackie groaned. “I should’ve never told her about this place and their Line Dancing Wednesdays.”
“You love dancing. And you’re the one who got her into it, so you can only blame yourself.”
“I know. But line dancing after all this tequila? Don’t mix well.”
“Here you go, Mitch.” Betty pushed the full tray toward him, glancing at Jackie. “Keep an eye on this one, all right? She seems a bit worse for wear than she normally does.”
Jackie shot her a pointed look. “I’m perfectly fine, Betty.”
It was a lie, but tonight she wasn’t going anywhere near all the drama with Weronika.
It had been months now since her first letter had arrived in summer, and more had followed like clockwork.
Jackie ignored every single one of them.
She had zero interest in reading what Weronika had to say.
None of it mattered. But her parents and Mimi had been nagging her to read at least one of them, to check what was so important.
In response, Jackie threw the latest one in the bonfire, staring at Mimi at the opposite side of the flames.
She hoped she’d made her point clear. Because she wasn’t going to change her mind.
That was also the reason she hadn’t told Mitch about any of this.
Knowing him, he’d be all reasonable and feeling, and somehow break through her barriers and convince her to read those damn letters.
No one else shared his power of persuasion, or maybe it was the effect he had on her. She wasn’t ready to face it.
Tonight, she didn’t want to think about Weronika or how rotten she’d been feeling about keeping the letters a secret from Mitch. Tonight, they were celebrating.
She slid her hand into the back pocket of Mitch’s jeans as they weaved through Betty’s Hens toward the booth in the corner to rejoin Lyla and Nick.
“Tequila top-up!” Mitch put the tray on their table with impressively steady hands.
Lyla flashed him a smile. “Aquaman to the rescue!”
Jackie wrapped her fingers around one of the glasses. “You’re never going to drop that nickname, are you?”
Lyla’s gaze moved from Jackie to Mitch. “He told me I can call him that!”
“That’s because you would do it anyway.” Nick nuzzled Lyla’s neck. “You always do whatever you want.”
Lyla pushed him away, her lips puckering. “That’s not true! The other week I really wanted to borrow Jackie’s silver sequin dress, but I didn’t!”
Jackie frowned. “You never asked me.”
Lyla shrugged. “That’s why I didn’t borrow it.”
Mitch shook his head, draining his glass. He put it back on the table with a thud. “We should toast.”
Nick let out a long exhale, raising his glass. “What are we toasting to?”
Lyla shuffled closer to him, cupping both of his cheeks and dragging his face to hers. “The fact that we’re actually together and worked through all of our shit.”
Nick smirked and kissed her, pushing her down to an almost horizontal position in the booth.
Jackie smiled at them, her cheeks flushed from both the excess tequila and Mitch’s closeness. His thigh was right next to hers; she could feel the sparks flowing through the fabric. Her hand reached underneath the table, following the zipper of his jeans that stretched over his dick.
“What are you up to, love?” he drawled, his eyes pinning hers.
Her eyebrows jogged up, feigning innocence. “Absolutely nothing.” But she didn’t take her hand away, moving it up and down in circular motions.
Mitch inhaled sharply, his gaze still burning into her face. “Jackie.”
The warning in his voice only stirred her desire.
“Mitch,” she countered, moving so close to him that her breast brushed his ribs. “What if we toast and then disappear into the bathroom?”
He bit back a smile. “You’re impossible.”
She put a finger to his lips. “But you love me.”
“Like a mad man.” He kissed her finger and enveloped her hand with his, moving it down to his lap. “I know what you’re doing. You’re not getting out of line dancing with Lyla.”
“What, Jackie! We’re going to shake our butts off to ‘Footloose’ and I won’t hear otherwise!” Lyla shrieked, lifting herself up. She smoothed her blonde hair and sat straighter. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone.
Jackie sighed, crossed her arms and slumped against the back of her seat. “I need more alcohol for that.” She turned to Mitch. “Let it be noted you’re missing out on bathroom sex in favor of my public humiliation.”
He pulled her to him, putting his hand between her thighs.
She clamped it there with a smirk. “You’re trapped now.”
He looped a finger under the belt of her shirt dress, leaned over and whispered into her ear: “Oh, I’ll be stealing you away the moment the last note of ‘Footloose’ plays, don’t you worry.”
Then, in one swift motion, he pulled his hand away and put it on the table, taking another glass of tequila.
Jackie swallowed; her cheeks flamed further. Whenever she thought Mitch couldn’t make her blush, he proved her wrong. And she absolutely fucking loved him for that.
“Toast, toast, toast!” Nick chanted, clapping his hands to the tune of “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” by Big & Rich that was playing from the speakers.
The entire bar roared with various drunken screams as the chorus came on.
Lyla let out peals of laughter, lifting her own glass and spilling half the tequila in the process. “Jackie should give a toast! She got us all together here.” She flicked her gaze to Nick. “She’s the reason we met, too.”
“Hey, I introduced you!” Mitch kicked Lyla under the table.
She squealed. “Easy, Aquaman. I love you too, but Jackie is my absolute best friend. You’re like second in command.”
Nick raised his brow at her. “You’re building an army? Where am I in the ranks?”
“Well, you’re its general, of course.” Lyla planted a very loud, wet kiss on his cheek.
Jackie sighed but couldn’t stop grinning.
She was genuinely over the moon they were in a stable place now.
Over the years, there had been many tears into ice-cream tubs, late-night dancing-it-out sessions and holding Lyla’s hair when her head was stuck in the toilet.
But this, now? The four of them were healthy, happy and at the start of the rest of their lives.
She raised her shot glass, her gaze slowly moving from Lyla to Nick and finally landing on Mitch. Her mouth split into a smile. “To Lyla, for getting into Icahn medical school. To Nick, for getting a killer internship at Goldman Sachs. To Mitch, for getting into veterinary medicine at Cornell.”
Mitch clasped her fingers under the table. “And to you, for getting into Columbia med.”
Lyla squeaked, spilling some more tequila. “We’re all going to be in New York!”
Nick huffed a laugh. “Not sure they’re ready for us.”
“Bottoms up!” Jackie emptied her glass in one long gulp. Fiery liquid coated her tongue, slipping down her throat and warming her up from the inside.
As her glass hit the table, Betty grabbed the microphone and announced: “Y’all cowgirls and cowboys! Put your best boot forward and come onto the dance floor, it’s line-dancing time!”
The applause and excited whoops washed over the bar.
Jackie winced at the noise, grabbing and draining her other glass as Lyla jumped to her feet. “Jaaaackie, let’s go!”
She wanted to kick the past her for ever teaching Lyla how to line-dance in the first place, in their living room, but here they were. And apparently, “here” was at the very front.
Jackie pulled Lyla’s hand. “What are you doing?”
Lyla threw her head back, her light hair shimmering under the mirror ball. “Having fun! Celebrating the rest of our lives starting! Pick one, or both, whatever.” She laughed and shook Jackie’s hand off hers.
The music came from the speakers, and Jackie blinked, willing her mind to keep up with the tune. Did she even remember the steps? It had been a while since she line-danced to “Footloose”.
Lyla’s infectious giggling every now and then made her lips break into a smile. Even though her mind was still busy worrying about the dance, her feet knew exactly what they were doing. It seemed like steps were ingrained somewhere deep in her subconscious, beyond tequila’s reach.
Three steps to the right, three steps to the left …
Step together times four … Crisscross, repeat.
After the third repeat, Jackie picked up the pace, the heels of her boots clicking on the floor, her hands clapping and her eyes shining.
Endorphins warmed her blood. She wasn’t looking at what anyone else was doing, but felt the music and focused on having fun.
Lyla stumbled next to her but regained her balance before Jackie could check if she was all right.
Without losing her step, she looked up to the small crowd gathered at the edge of the dance floor, her eyes finding Mitch right away. He was standing with his arms crossed, a stupidly happy grin on his face as he watched her.
Her heart kept pace with the fast beat of the music. She wanted to drag him onto the dance floor with her, but he truly was hopeless when it came to line-dancing.