Chapter 14
EILEEN
Is he actively trying to ruin my life?
Okay, he’s hot, I get it. Tall, mind-blowing body and handsome as fuck. And he isn’t a soulless, rich demon like Charlie made him out to be.
But does he have to be funny?
Why can’t he be a boring, awkward nerd?
The fact that he can listen to me talking with attention is making it ridiculously hard to breathe sometimes. If not every second I’m with him. Sorting through my thoughts is close to impossible.
We’re organizing a wedding. As much as I’m trying to suppress romantic thoughts for this guy I barely know, they keep popping up, like weeds during the rainy season. It’s so damn impossible to cut them all. And they keep appearing out of nowhere.
I try to keep the mood light, but now it’s up to auditioning bands. What am I going to do if they play a slow, cheesy song?
Where did he even get bands and DJs to audition?
“What do you do for a living?” I ask as he parks in front of the hotel.
“Does it matter?” he asks before opening his door.
No, but where do the luxury cars come from? Last Saturday was a Ferrari. Then, on Sunday a Bugatti, and today we’re riding in a fancy Audi which model I’ve never seen before. Now he has this place set within short notice.
Who are you?
The valet opens my door and helps me down, but in seconds Jason is next to him taking away my hand from the man. Great, now he’s going to see what a sweaty idiot I can be.
“Not really,” I answer. “Just asking because you somehow have a place ready with bands who are willing to audition for you.”
“For us,” he clarifies. “Plus, DJs too.”
“Okay, but bands and DJs on such short notice?”
He shrugs. “I wish I could take credit for the setup, but it was Emmeline.”
Well, that’s new. That little piece of information takes care of any romantic thoughts I might be harboring. He has a significant other.
I flash him a questioning look. “Your girlfriend?” Wife, partner… this proves that all the good ones are taken.
“Fuck no, my oldest brother’s girlfriend,” he says emphatically.
Somehow the revelation eases the tension from my back. Why do I care if he’s otherwise occupied by a beautiful woman? It’s none of my business.
But he’s so funny, and thoughtful, and smart. That goofy personality that he keeps hidden underneath the serious guy is breathtaking.
Easy there, girl. He’s just an acquaintance helping me with Charlie’s latest ‘emergency’.
“So, I assume we don’t like Emmeline.”
“She’s... good for Jack,” he states a little thoughtfully. “Kind of a fucking busy body, but she gets shit done and doesn’t take shit from him.”
I snort. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“Do too,” he says.
“Name one thing you like about her personally.”
“Easy, she makes a mean espresso,” he says. “But she’s a pain in my ass, and her cats are demons.”
“What’s wrong with cats?” I say defensively.
“Nothing, I love cats,” he says. “Hers just ruined my brother’s sweet decor.”
“Ah, personal vendetta,” I joke, but glance at him wondering how this relation affected his own. “Let me guess, she took away your brother’s attention.”
He bumps my hip lightly with his, giving me a tight smile. Ding, ding. I hit the jackpot. “The spot for best friend is open, in case…” he goes silent, and I love his bashfulness.
I think about Camilla and how it’d be to lose our time together because she finds love.
That brings me to thinking about Jason and how much I enjoy being with him.
I glance at him again, wondering if in another life where there are no shotgun weddings and I was a little more put together, we could’ve been something else.
Thankfully he doesn’t look my way, or he’d see how hard I’m blushing.
As we enter the ballroom, there’s a small stage where instruments are already set up. In front of the stage, there are two chairs with a small table between them.
“We’ll have dinner served for two while we enjoy the music,” he says.
This wasn’t a part of my schedule. “Part of the catering selection?”
“No, just dinner,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind. I just order bites.”
“Bites?”
“Appetizers. You know, pretzels, nachos, hummus, pita, and beer, of course.”
“Oh, bar food,” I say excitedly. “Sure, that’s like my comfort food.”
“What?” He does a double take.
His brows crease. It makes me want to smooth out his face with my thumb.
“My dad’s Irish remember?” I explain. “He owned a pub with one of his brothers while I was growing up, and I ate a lot of bar food.”
“What happened to it?” He asks.
“They sold it and then Dad decided to become an electrician. He says it pays better. I wouldn’t know.”
“Doing what you love doesn’t always pay well,” he says thoughtfully.
“Preaching to the choir, pal,” I say.
He starts to reach over with his hand, but the server comes out with two beers. I’m relieved because it looked like he was trying to reach over and squeeze my arm. But I’m disappointed because it looked like he was trying to reach over and squeeze my arm.
“So, what kind of music does the bride and the groom want to listen to during their big day?” he asks instead.
“I have a list of songs that my parents would like the band to play, but most of the stuff it's just, you know, commercial pop that Charlie wants.”
His nose moves slightly. It’s not a scrunch, but I can tell he isn’t thrilled about the music selection.
“Well, what would you prefer to listen to? Heavy metal in the middle of your wedding reception?”
“Jazz,” he says. “I’ll take some Post Bop or Smooth Jazz but, I don’t know, weddings seem like the best time for a swing band. You know what I mean?”
I perk up, dumbfounded. Charlie always called me a weirdo for caring about Jazz.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I honestly couldn’t agree more. Although it would probably be easier to find a band that does Retro Swing covers of pop music. Keep the theatricality and sound of Swing but make the music selection more recent and accessible. That way everyone would be happy.”
Jason gets this goofy grin every so often. Like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s just so excited about something. It’s adorable. It makes me excited to be around him and whatever’s making him so happy.
He has seven bands and eight DJs lined up. The DJs perform first because it's easier to spot the best one. When the bands start playing, there are some really good performances and others … let’s just say I’m hoping for this last number to be over.
Once they finish, the next band begins to play Jazz. Jason rises from his seat, he extends his hand and says, “May I have this dance?”
Without thinking, I accept enthusiastically. I have no idea how this will turn out. He moves at a perfect pace. He’s so graceful and dashing. His eyes pierce me. A rush of heat sweeps down my chest as we move across the dance floor.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he says, lightening the intensity of the moment with a chuckle.
“You’re not too bad yourself, sir,” I say playfully.
He turns to the band, “Do you take requests?”
The singer of the band nods. Jason looks at me mischievously before he walks up to the stage and whispers something into her ear. The singer says something to the band and counts them in. They start playing an all too familiar hook.
“Fuck no,” I say.
“Come on, Eileen,” he sings, offering me his hand with a shit eating grin.
“Nope,” I say stubbornly.
“Come on, Eileen, you know you want to,” he says.
“You’re awful,” I say as I take his hand.
His dancing should be illegal. He’s sweeping me off my feet, literally. He picks me up so smoothly for a turn.
“Come on, Eileen,” he sings in harmony with the band’s singer.
I laugh. “Don’t think I’m enjoying this.”
He dips me.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.
I get lost in the way he leads us around the dance floor.
“Come on, Eileen,” he sings along with the band and as much as I’m trying to be upset this is so much fun.
He dips me again. His face is so close to mine, I could just lean up and kiss him.
I blush, my heart threatening to jump out of my chest. “You skipped a few lines.”
“Admit it,” he says, ignoring me as he takes me out of the dip. “You’ve always wanted to have a big party, just for you.”
How does he know this shit about me?
“Middle child, remember?” he says sadly.
I wish he didn’t get me. It would make pushing him away easier. It would make keeping all of this casual, professional, easy.
“I admit that I wanted to experience something like this. With a better dress, of course, and maybe a few more guests. You know, like in those teen movies.”
“Didn’t they have live music during your school dances?” he asks.
“Once, during my senior prom. But I didn’t go.”
“How come you didn’t?”
I shrug. “It was my birthday.”
“You must have done something pretty fun instead of going to a boring school dance.”
I laugh, maybe a bit hysterically. “Not really.”