Last First Kiss: A Second Chance Standalone Romance

by Jane Anthony

  Jesse

  “RYAN, you crazy bastard, I can’t believe you’re married!” Mick’s Cheshire cat grin stretches from ear to ear. He socks Ryan in the shoulder, then pushes his glasses up his slender nose. “It’s not too late to run, Leigh.”

  Ryan’s new bride wraps her arms around his neck, letting her forearms rest on his shoulders. The crown of chocolate curls cascading around her veil bop as she shakes her head. “No way. He’s mine for life now.”

  They seal the deal with a kiss so sickeningly sweet it makes my teeth hurt. When Ryan asked me to be a groomsman at his wedding, saying yes was a no-brainer. I didn’t know at the time that my life would be in shambles and that being around this much googly-eyed affection would make me want to hurl all over my rented monkey suit.

  Jealousy is an ugly bitch.

  That green-eyed cunt reared her head as Leigh walked down the aisle. The look on Ryan’s face said it all. That glow breaking through his goofy grin; the magnitude of his stare as she came forth, dressed in white and bathed in beauty. Euphoria beamed from every orifice. I’d never seen the guy so friggin’ happy in my entire life.

  I remember being happy. It was short lived, but it was real. With Wren wrapped up in my arms, I was whole. Now it feels as though a piece of me is missing. That all-important part that keeps my body functioning the way it should? It’s gone.

  “I think Kathy likes you.” Leigh smiles and brings a glass of champagne to her lips. Leigh’s cousin and counterpart for wedding-related activities. We walked down the aisle side by side and danced when the DJ told us to, but the short brunette is as forgettable as algebra. I’m not in the market for someone new. The only girl I want has strawberry hair and olive eyes with freckles kissing her alabaster skin.

  The girl who stole my heart back when I was a kid.

  The same one I catch walking across the hall at this very moment.

  My heart seizes in my chest. Wren weaves around the tables as best she can, her long, green dress flowing behind her. It hugs her generous curves in all the right places, showing off her delectable cleavage with a low-cut V.

  Every step is another tug on my heart. She stops in her tracks and turns with a smile. The wattage on the electric gleam kills me where I stand. I feel it radiating through my entire body. She greets a friend with a hug and exchanges a few lines of chitchat before setting back on her path.

  Rocks tumble in my gut. If she’s here, it must mean he is, too. My eyes scan the crowd, looking for signs of Asher as I prepare myself for the shitstorm of seeing them together.

  But shock replaces dread when my wandering gaze finds Wren’s friend Allison. The breath I didn’t know I was holding falls from my lungs full force. I lean into Mick, sucking back a generous sip of barley and hops. “You didn’t tell me Wren was coming.” The casual question fires out as more of a scold than anything.

  Mick’s brow lifts above the thick rim of his glasses. “Figured you knew.”

  “No.” I lick my lips, but my mouth is the Sahara. I take another swig from my bottle, but it doesn’t help the dry burn taking over my throat. “Wren and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately.”

  His gaze follows mine to the redhead across the room. “Jesus, she looks like she’s about to give birth on the dance floor. That’s gotta sting, man.” He snorts out a humorless laugh. “Who’s the dad?”

  “Me.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until a set of magnified eyes home in directly at me.

  “The fuck did you just say?” he whispers.

  I turn away, cursing under my breath at my sheer stupidity. I’d grown so used to shouldering the responsibility that it flew out as second nature. “No . . . It’s not really . . . I mean . . . Fuck,” I stammer, trying to correct the blunder before Mick’s head explodes.

  I’m too late.

  “You and Wren?”

  “It’s a long story, Mick.” A complicated, long-drawn-out story that doesn’t shine a pretty light on me.

  I turn to leave, but he catches my arm. “Just tell me one thing. Did you get the valedictorian pregnant?”

  My lips press into a thin line, my brows clipped as the horrible truth finally slips of my tongue. “No. I didn’t. But I love her anyway.”

  Mick’s ever-present grin falls stoic as I glance behind me one more time. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

  A sheepish grin pulls at my mouth. “I’m gonna get her back.”

  Light shines behind Mick’s thick glasses. My feet move as if Mick’s approval was all they needed to slingshot me toward Wren’s table. I glide across the dance floor, my eyes set on her as I approach. “Hi.” I stand like a stone waiting for a reaction, thankful there’s no milkshake machine in sight.

  “Jesse.” One word, two syllables, and my heart soars. Just hearing the way it slides between her teeth causes a knee-jerk reaction inside my body. She almost purrs it, her sweet, decadent voice clinging to the letters as a means of survival.

  “Can we talk?”

  Anxiety flushes her cheeks, her red-stained lips narrowing into a heart.

  “I was just about to get a refill on this drink anyway. Gotta love open bar, right?” Allison jokes, standing up and pushing in her chair. “I’ll be back.” With that, she disappears amongst the crowd, leaving me alone with Wren.

  “Can I sit?” I gesture to the seat beside her. She nods and threads her fingers on top of her stomach like a table. “You got big.”

  Her top lip curls in a what-the-fuck sneer. “Thanks?”

  Fuck.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, like, your stomach grew since I saw you last.”

  Thick, black lashes flutter over her apprehensive glare. “Yeah. That tends to happen.”

  I’m fucking this up.

  I inhale a deep breath, trying to think of the right words to say, but everything pops in my brain all at once. It circles my head like a spinning wheel. If only Vanna could turn letters and tell me what to say. In the end, I decide the best thing to do is start over.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She drops her gaze to the mound in front of her. “I don’t feel very beautiful.”

  “Well, you are. Then again, I’ve always found you beautiful.” I pause for a beat, unsuccessfully attempting to catch her gaze. “Even when you first wake up, hair a mess, and the remnants of mascara smeared on your lids, I still think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

  But my compliment seems to fall on deaf ears. She stares at the table, her frown growing deeper the longer I sit.

  “You have every right to be pissed, Bird. I fucked up over and over, and nothing I can say is ever going to change that. I wasted five years with you by keeping secrets. I don’t want to keep you in the dark ever again.”

  Her gaze slowly lifts to meet mine. The misery inside them is a knife to the jugular. I’m the cause of that misty shade of moss, and I can’t do anything to fix what I’ve done, but I’ll spend the rest of life trying to make up for it. If she’ll let me.

  “You mean more to me than any other person on this entire planet. I remember the first day I ever saw you. I looked into your eyes and felt the entire world tilt on its axis. I held on to that feeling for so long, assuming you couldn’t possibly feel the same way for me. Then you fell in love with me, too. It scared me, Bird. I was so terrified you’d wake up one day and change your mind. I just couldn’t handle it.”

  Her eyes narrow to slits. “You broke my heart because you love me too much? That’s some grade-A bullshit, Jesse, and you know it.”

  I shake my head, raking my fingers through my hair. “I never claimed to be a perfect man. I wanted to be. A perfect man, a perfect father. But I’m neither. I tricked myself into believing you’d be better off without me. I thought you belonged with someone who can take care of you and give you everything you want.”

  Her nostrils flare as her pinches her lips. “I already had everything I wanted.”

  “Do you
still want the same things?”

  She rolls her eyes in a huff. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Thank you for your offer, but we’ve got this.”

  The obnoxious pop song blaring overhead fades to a slow ballad.

  “Dance with me.”

  “I’m not in the mood to dance.”

  Her chest rises with a deep inhale. I lean forward, breathing the sweet scent of her perfume as I lay my hand on hers. “Please,” I beg. “One song, and I’ll go.”

  She searches my face before offering a curt nod. She twists her legs from under the table, but I tighten my grip on her wrist.

  “Wait,” I ask, reaching for a flower in the centerpiece. Carefully, I pluck a white lily from the vase and weave it around the delicate bracelet adorning her wrist.

  “What’s that for?” She side-eyes me with a suspicious smirk.

  “The corsage I should have given you years ago,” I say, offering her my palm.

  She slips her tiny hand in mine and follows me to the dance floor. I take her in my arms, pulling her close. She laces her fingers behind my neck, dropping her head to my shoulder as we begin to move. Our hips sway, our hearts crashing together in seamless synchronicity. I hold her as if she’s all I have. A life preserver in an endless sea.

  Closing my eyes, I revel in the feel of her in my arms again. Her body pressed to mine, her breath fanning my neck as we sway to the beat.

  “This is how I pictured it.” Her breathy voice filters over the harmony of Boys II Men crooning from the speakers. “Just you and me, the rest of the world around us falling away as you twirled me around the dance floor.”

  “I still love you, Bird.” My admission falls out in a husky whisper burning my throat like sandpaper. “I honestly don’t know what’ll happen next for us. All I know for sure is that you make me happy. And that’s really all I need.”

  She lifts her head, her eyes big and round as she looks up at me. But instead of the forgiveness I hoped to see swirling in her olive gaze, I’m faced with fear as she her light brows clip together.

  She drops her hand, cradling it under her stomach. “Something’s wrong.”

  “The baby?”

  An eternal moment passes. Her face falls stoic than pinches again. “I think so.”

  With my arm still wrapped around her back, I tuck her close to my side. “C’mon, we’ll go sit down.”

  “No,” she whispers in a rush, shaking her head. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

  My eyes go wide. “Now?”

  “Yes. Where’s your car?” Nervous energy rattles her quiet voice.

  My eyes fly over the crowd. A split second is all I need to decide what exit route to take, ushering her out as fast as I can without making a scene. A sharp gasp cut through her teeth. She clutches her stomach with a whimper as I throw my number at the valet.

  “Hurry,” I order in a stern baritone.

  “I’m okay. We have plenty of time, I’m sure. Labor could take hours.” A small yelp follows her statement. We both look down at the trickle splashing between her rhinestone flip-flops. “Gross,” she whines, extending the vowel in a clipped stutter. “Guess I won’t be returning this dress now.” But her joke falls flat as another contraction forces a cry from her throat.

  I crane my neck looking for the valet. “I’m gonna kill this idiot,” I snarl.

  Wren’s grip on my arm tightens. “After this baby’s out, you can kill whoever you want, just get me there first.”

  The old Ford turns a corner. I hurry to the curb, fuming with irritation as it crawls forward. “Way to hustle, asshole,” I grumble, yanking the door open to help Wren inside. Once she’s settled, I run around the front the jump in the driver’s seat. Tires squeal against the pavement, kicking up dust as I speed away.

  “Don’t panic.” She pauses to breathe through another contraction before finishing her statement. “They’re not close enough to panic yet.”

  Don’t panic, she says.

  The sheer anxiety has me panting so hard I feel like I need Lamaze breathing just to get through it. Fluid drips onto the floorboards of my truck. I’ve seen this on television a hundred times, but nothing prepares a man for bearing witness to it in real life.

  I don’t need her birthing a baby on the bench seat of a truck that’s two steps up from dumpster status.

  I pull up in front of the hospital and let her out at the door before circling around to find a spot. Cutting the wheel hard, I slam the truck into park and run through the lot as fast as I can. My lungs on fire, my feet blistering inside shiny shoes, I zip through the electronic doors. Her knees buckle under the force of her cry. She falls into my arms, her fingers digging through my heavy coat sleeves.

  “Breathe, Bird.” Recovering, she looks up with a lifted brow. “I dunno, it sounded like the right thing to say.” I scratch my jaw and all but carry her inside.

  A melodious giggle flits from her chest. My heart flutters at the sound. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard that laughter, yet to my chagrin, it’s followed by another pained yowl as she doubles over.

  After a frustrating check-in process that takes far longer than it should, she’s wheeled to her room and given a gown. Monitors beep by her bedside. She flops to one side, then the other, trying to find a comfortable position between contractions. “I can’t believe this is it. In a few hours, I’ll be someone’s mom.”

  “You’re gonna be amazing at it, too.”

  A genuine smile sits on her mouth, but a nervous edge cuts through her happy stare. “Thank you for saying that,” she gasps, curling into a ball. She licks her lips, swallowing hard. “I need you do something for me.”

  “You need the doctor?”

  “Call Asher.”

  I feel the scowl cross my face, but I quickly force it away. “Are you guys . . .?” I shake my head, pushing from my chair and turning my face to the wood-paneled wall. It’s not my place to be jealous. I drove her back to him. It’s my fault now. “You know what? Never mind. Where’s your phone?”

  A small hand brushes my arm. “We’re nothing, Jess.” The hollowness in her voice hurts my soul. “Asher’s been great, but I don’t want to be with someone I don’t love.”

  Her words hang in the air, making my head feel as light as a helium balloon. I’m right here with her, close enough to touch, yet I feel as if she’s standing behind glass. A thick panel I erected when I walked away.

  I fish her Nokia from the small, beaded handbag on her bedside table and wander into the hall as I click through the contacts. The sight of his name chars a hole clear through me, but I hit the button and bring the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, Wren. It’s not a good time.”

  Asher’s baritone floats through the line, slashing my eardrum like razor blades. Of course, it’s not a good time. He’s probably balls deep in some rich debutante while Wren gives birth to his kid. I want to tell him what an asshole he is, but instead, I roll my eyes, swallowing down what’s left my pride. “It’s Jesse. Wren’s in labor.”

  Silence on the other end.

  “You there or what?” I press.

  “Why are you calling me?” he asks after a beat, his voice dripping with hostility.

  “What difference does it make? She’s in labor. She asked me to call and let you know, and that’s what I’m doing. Come or don’t come. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass either way.” I snap the phone closed and tuck it in my palm, counting to ten before returning to the room.

  Wren faces the opposite wall, the curve of her spine showing through the open back of her hospital gown.

  “I told him.” I set the phone down on the faux-wood top of the nightstand and pull my seat closer to her bed.

  “Thank you,” she stammers through breaths. Forcing her knees beneath her, she mewls as another contraction hits.

  I feel so fucking helpless. I don’t know what to do to ease her suffering, but I’d gladly take it if only I knew how.

  A nurse shuffles in wearing pink scr
ubs covered in Charlie Brown characters. She looks at the monitors before asking, “How are we feeling?”

  “It hurts,” Wren cries into the pillow.

  “Yeah, your contractions are back to back now. We’ve called Dr. Sims, and she should be here—”

  Before she’s finished her statement, the pretty blond doctor speed walks in, her lab coat floating behind her.

  “Oh! And there she is,” the nurse jokes, but no one laughs.

  “Congratulations!” Dr. Sims smiles and rolls a teal-topped stool to the end of Wren’s bed. “Let’s check and see how far dilated you are.”

  With robot-like movements, Wren rolls to her back.

  The doctor lifts Wren’s feet and sets them on her heels, then the doctor’s arm disappears beneath the sheet. “Five centimeters,” she says, pulling back her hand and snapping off the latex glove. “You’re halfway there.”

  Wren blanches. “Only halfway?”

  The doctor offers a comforting smile. “These things take time. But you could go from five to ten centimeters in the next half hour. Or it could take all night. It will happen when it happens.” She turns and dumps the soiled glove in a nearby trash can as she walks to the monitors. “I see your contractions are strong. That’s a good sign. How’s your pain? Manageable?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Well, let me know if you want me to call the anesthesiologist, but keep in mind, once you’re past a certain point, it’s too late.”

  “I understand.” Wren nods.

  “Okay. I’ll be back.” The doctor turns on her heel and walks off, leaving us alone but not for long.

  A dark wisp crosses my peripheral. I turn toward it, my chest clenching when I see Asher hovering in the doorway.

  “Wren, darling. I came as soon as I could.”

  You mean as soon as you came, I think to myself. But I chew back the biting statement, wanting to keep the peace.

  “You made it.” Relief swallows the anguish in her eyes as she watches him round the room to the opposite side.

  “Of course. There’s no way I would miss this.”

  Regret slams into me. I close my eyes to the sight of him pushing her hair back with care. This is my fault. I brought him back in her life, and now I need to deal with the consequences of my actions, but this is worse than jail. I’d rather rot in a cell for the rest of my life than have to watch her smile up at this douche-nozzle one more time.