Tackled by Lisa Suzanne
CHAPTER 18
Jack sits in the third row of pews as the bridal party takes pictures. He snaps a few on my phone per my request, but mostly he just sits quietly and stares straight ahead. His eyes aren’t on me, but it’s clear he’s wrestling with something.
And the last time he wrestled with something...well, his new boss hired me.
He’s quiet while we take the party bus down to the legendary sign. He blends into the background as much as someone with his overwhelming presence can, and he stays on the bus while we take pictures by the sign so he doesn’t have to interact with the people who’d be begging him for photos.
Until Shannon calls him off the bus.
“Jack, Kev and I need you!” she calls, and if anyone knows the one golden rule of weddings, it’s that you never say no to the bride.
He saunters off the bus and puts on the show he’s perfected over the decade he’s done this. He smiles. He shakes hands. He hugs fans. He takes selfies.
And through it all, I see the way his movements are rigid. I see the way he avoids my gaze. I see the way he gives every single person the attention they ask for, and I see how he gives a little piece of himself away each time.
I want to talk to him on the bus, but this isn’t the time.
We’re separated at dinner. I’m at the table with the bridal party, while he sits at a table near the front where Kevin’s cousin would’ve sat if he’d been able to attend. You’d think the people at his table won the damn lottery with legendary football star Jack Dalton sitting with them.
Shannon opted for all the wedding reception traditions, so they cut the cake, she smashes a little into Kevin’s face, and they dance their first dance as a married couple. Shannon dances with her dad, Kevin dances with his mom, and the bridal party takes the floor.
And then it’s party time.
I beeline for my date first. He’s recounting a story about some pass he made that the people at his table call “inhuman” when I slide into the chair beside him. He tosses an arm casually around the back of my chair.
“Dance with me?” I ask, mostly to get him away from this table.
“Drink first,” he says with a smile, still avoiding eye contact with me.
I nod, and we stand. “But only one. Right?”
He lifts a shoulder. “We’ll see.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as we walk to the bar.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, let’s play it that way,” I say sarcastically.
He finally glances at me and presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t say anything. We get to the bar.
“Soda, beer, or wine?” the bartender asks.
“Gin,” he demands.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any tonight.”
Jack reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He opens it and passes two hundred dollar bills over. “Think you can find a bottle?”
The bartender looks at the money and back up at Jack. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He disappears, and we wait. A line is forming behind us, so I can’t try to grill him right now. But the second I get the chance, I already know what I’m going to say.
The bartender returns with a glass of gin for Jack.
“I’ll take a white wine,” I say. I don’t bother tipping. Jack just did it for both of us.
We head to the dance floor, and I immediately regret asking him to dance.
Not because it’s bad...oh, no. Quite the contrary.
A slow song starts, and Taylor Swift sings about one of the many loves that got away from her while I try not to listen to the lyrics because they just might make me cry right now.
He sips the gin he holds in one hand while the other hand goes to my hip. I loop one arm around his neck while I hold my glass in my other hand. And I smell him.
Gin.
Wood.
Danger.
Why do I get the sudden ominous feeling like this night is not going to end well?
He leans in a little, and right when I feel like he’s about to put his lips on the skin of my neck, his mouth takes a detour toward my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about Halloween.”
I clear my throat. “You like trick or treating?”
He chuckles, and his lips are curled in a little smile when he backs away from me. “You know exactly what I mean.”
My eyes move to his, and mine are suddenly full of fear. I’m in the middle of a game that I don’t know how to play. “I do, Jack. And I think about it all the time, too. But it doesn’t matter. You made your choice, and now you’re engaged to somebody else.”
“I don’t love her,” he says, lowering his mouth toward my ear again.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
His lips brush my ear, and I shiver.
I shake my head and move so he isn’t quite so close. We’re dancing at a wedding and I’m sure somebody is looking at us because he’s this megastar and we can’t just have it out here on the dance floor.
“I’m not that girl,” I say softly.
His brows dip down. “What do you mean?”
I lower my voice. “I won’t be your side chick while I watch you marry somebody else.”
He closes his eyes a beat, and it’s like some lightbulb clicks on and he realizes exactly what he’s doing.
“Don’t marry her if you don’t love her,” I plead softly.
He blows out a breath. “You don’t get it. My son, my job, my sponsorships...my entire goddamn life is on the line.”
“Why?” I ask. “What’s so damn bad that you have to marry her?”
He presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word.
“Talk to me, Jack. Please.” I’m begging.
He puts down the rest of his gin in one gulp, and I stare wide-eyed at his empty glass. It was full. That’s a lot of gin in a very short period of time. “Why?” he spits out. “So you can run to Calvin?”
My brows raise in surprise, but I guess I shouldn’t feel that way. He’s just lashing out at whoever’s closest because the words he spoke earlier during the reading woke something inside him. “You know I won’t do that.”
“Do I?”
I clear my throat. “Love is patient. Love is kind,” I begin softly.
He stops moving for a beat.
“It does not envy. It does not boast,” I continue.
His eyes move to mine. “What are you doing?”
“Why did those words seem to change your entire demeanor earlier as you read them?” I whisper.
“I don’t know what you’re implying.”
“Yes, you do. It doesn’t just mean love, Jack. It means marriage. All of it. You don’t have to do this.”
He blows out a breath, and I guess he’s had enough, because he lets go of his grip on my hip and stalks away from me toward the bar.
I feel like I just poked the bear, and I have no idea what his reaction is going to be.
