Across From You

by Amabel Daniels

  “Uh huh.”

  “I bet they were all just impatient to get the hell to dinner.”

  Someone shushed me and I looked forward and resisted the urge to scowl. I played along though, planning ahead to hang this torture over Bev someday, because, come on, how ridiculous and demanding could they get? It wasn’t that terrible, once I ignored my stomach growling and my throat getting dry. I’d been eager to get a chance to spend time with Jack, and I was.

  Each minute we were together, my indecision and confusion stacked up like unsteady blocks in an archway without a keystone.

  Was I really dipping my toes into that pool? Considering Jack as someone I could date and get to know? Despite how strongly I’d been struck stupidly frozen in my lusta-lysis at him posing nude, I could see him in other layers besides clothes. Humor as he could keep up with my lame jokes. A shared appreciation of Middle Earth and its inhabitants. Intelligence at his depth of understanding the quantum mystery of baseball. Creativity in his piano-playing skills. At the base of it all, I was viewing him less as the stereotypical man-whore I’d been preconceived to meet and more of a decent, normal guy.

  Decent, normal guy.

  Hadn’t I met enough of those posers? I’d avoided too many Mr. Oh Hell Nos and weeded out lots of Mr. Bad Ideas and was rejected by even more Mr. It Ain’t Happenings. All contenders I’d crappily accessed as decent and normal men. Was decent or normal even possible? Jack had me thinking…maybe, just maybe, it might be. And it could very well be him.

  But…my ego still had an ice pack tending to the sting of the uppercut that post had delivered. Go figure it’d take a colossally awful breakup to really shock me into holding back on my physical attraction for Jack. In a little sample of hindsight though, good thing I could keep my eyes open past his sinful muscles and taut skin. Plus those naughty but charming smirks and smiles, the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. That clearly defined ridge in his pants when he’d slid me down from that piano, pulling my dress up to bare me for his rough hands to explore—

  Damn.

  What was my point again?

  Oh. Yes. Good thing I could bypass all the hits his sexiness threw at me. Otherwise, I would have rushed past seeing all the other even hotter things about him and his personality. Go figure. Not that I’d be calling to thank the personal trainer who’d hashtag-dumped me.

  And that kiss… Stole my breath and more than half my brain, by how damned sure and confident he’d been to make that move. Like I could talk. I hadn’t been standing too firm on the we’re-just-friends concept with his lips against me. I might not have control of looking at him and absolutely loving the view, but I did have control over my body.

  Instead of shoving him off for assuming too much of my interest in him, I’d followed my instincts and damn near begged. As I eyed him standing a few feet off, talking to my cousin in the groomsman side of the photos, I zeroed in my attention on those warm, smiling lips. What kind of spell did he power over me? Because as I looked my fill—again, sorry, cupcakes, for the leering, because this had to be exactly what they’d feel like—I couldn’t really care about just being friends with Jack.

  How could he not be a decent and normal guy? He could’ve taken advantage of me all damn night long as I was alone with him in his room. He hadn’t, and I started to think about if I’d hogged the bed or not. Sleeping with another body in bed was a damned hard thing to get used to. How do people sleep without sprawling? Didn’t they like to stretch?

  He might have been bold to kiss me back in the lobby, but he didn’t grope me or get frisky like a handsy asshole. Not that I minded his hands on me so far.

  Since I’d actually met Jack, he’d had plenty of chances to show me his true self, and no modes of the real Jack displayed indecent and abnormal traits like the men I vowed to avoid.

  While deliberating what my next step could be with Jack, and what I envisioned on the menu with him for tonight, I heard someone clearing their throat next to me.

  The priest, of all people, stood there at my side and smiled at me.

  “Hello…Father.” Even if I didn’t practice, that was what they were called, right? Not like I knew his first name. Howdy, pardner? A bow? Genuflect?

  His smile faded and he leaned closer to quietly say, “Are you the child who was dismissed with that picture?”

  Are you really absolutely fucking kidding me?

  He saw that damn post?

  Through gritted teeth, I said, “That’s me.”

  Nodding, he pursed his lips. “Such derogatory language is inexcusable.”

  “A-men.”

  With his white brows raised, he said, “Yes, well, I will pray for your good soul and wish you peace and love as you move past your ordeal.”

  Now I should bow, right? “Thank…you.”

  “We do have a counseling group if you’d ever be so interested.”

  Nope. Nopity nope. I didn’t even want to know. AA because I was holding a wine glass in the picture? Loose Women R Us because I clearly didn’t believe in abstinence? Scripture studies about resisting temptations for longer than five minutes?

  Nah. I’d rather bumble my way along. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but…”

  I caught Jack’s eye and almost laughed at his comical smirk at seeing me chatting with the priest. He came close and I said, “But my friend Jack here is already a great support to count on.”

  “I…see that. May God bless you both,” he said once Jack approached.

  “What was that about?”

  Oh, nothing but the realization an eighty-six-year-old man was with it enough to be on social media, and that he even had ties with people or the news to be knowledgeable that I’d been dumped. “Just chatting.”

  If a priest could learn of my breakup, I doubted there were many people who wouldn’t. Again, I felt a brief thanks for the fact I’d deleted the app from my phone and that the device was still being charged back to life.

  It was getting easier to just forget about the whole damn thing when no one mentioned it. Jack was helping with that, too. He was plenty of an attraction to distract me. Add to that, he’d even tried to prevent me further pain from that bridesmaid getting nasty with me about wanting food.

  For fuck’s sake, what did she eat? Air?

  “I can hear the wood burning up there,” Jack said, pulling me from my flash flood of thoughts.

  See? He wasn’t going to let me wallow in my head for too long. Another thing to like about him. Likes were besting the dislikes count, and wasn’t that scary enough.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s a bonfire of thoughts up there.”

  “Good, bad?”

  “Both.” Good in falling for Jack—clearly not part of a just friends routine. Bad in rebounding with him for the sake of…well, thinking he was decent and normal.

  Jesus. Why can’t he just glow if he’s really a catch? Some kind of tell? Because I sure as hell had failed so far with determining if a man was good for me. And if I screwed this up with Jack, I knew the fallout and repercussions of letting myself getting duped again would really sentence me to singlehood for good.

  “But I’ll be a good friend and avoid boring you with it,” I said and winked.

  Twelve

  Jack

  I shouldn’t have kissed her.

  Lexi was easy to read. She had independence tattooed over every inch of her personality, and not like a defense mechanism, either.

  She’d been so easygoing and fun to wait with until we’d headed inside the church. After one chat with the priest, she’d dived right back into friends mode, keeping an invisible distance.

  Friends.

  How could it be such an abusive word?

  I watched as she chatted with her brother while we waited for the DJ to announce our coupled entrances to the reception. She deadpanned at something her sibling said and he cracked up in laughter. Just as smoothly, her lips tipped up into a slow smile. So damn honest and expressive. I’d only met her t
he day before, but I already knew she was a rare kind of woman. One who didn’t waste time with lies or manipulative mind-fuckery. Lexi said and showed what she meant. Praise be. A girl who didn’t see the need to twist words and strategize crusades of confusion.

  Yet, when she’d informed Bev that she wasn’t considering me as the other half of a couple, her believe-me-o-meter malfunctioned. She couldn’t bring her gaze from the floor. Refused to even make direct eye contact with me for a few minutes after, too. Which clued me in to the idea that she might not be entirely convinced a friend zone was where she wanted us to be.

  Then I had to screw it up with that kiss. It’d been smoother sailing until that priest talked to her. What the hell did he say? He was warning her not to rebound with me? Could they interfere like that?

  Whatever Lexi did want with me, there was no avoiding what that’d make me.

  Rebound.

  For God’s sake, she’d just gotten the boot. I got that. It took me seven years to get over Alicia. Kind of rushing her if we were to compare recovery times. As much as I wanted to respect her vulnerability of just being dumped, and as much as I hoped to avoid our connection from budding out of the blossom of a rebound, I couldn’t. Because as soon as I had her to myself again, I was damned determined to explain where I stood. Other than in the hallway outside the reception hall where the smells of food wafted from like a breeze of trickery. So once I secured Lexi in privacy for an honest chat, and after we’d freaking ate something, I’d tell her what was going through my head.

  I wanted her. As a friend and something more. Bottom line, I was going to pursue her. No more doubting, debating, because if I did, I knew some other lucky asshole would try to claim an advantage over her. I’d finally found a woman—honest, sexy, and definitely not boring—and I refused to second-guess myself with her. It seemed I’d have to wait a little longer, though, because Claudia directed us to line up, pointing and snapping her fingers while pressing an earpiece into her ear.

  “He’s going to start introducing you. Remember. Smile. Wave. Go straight to your table.”

  And…hut, hut, hustle! For fuck’s sake. You’d think we were scrambling around like absentminded cats.

  Lexi bumped into my side, leaving her brother behind us, and she clutched onto my arm. “I might not…make…it,” she whispered with exaggerated gasps between words.

  “Almost there. I promise.”

  She groaned and straightened on her feet. Her elbow remained firmly hooked in mine and I patted her forearm as she continued. “Are they actually going to go through all fifty million pictures they took? I kinda figured the battery would have died on the flash after the first two hours. I’m going to pass out before they feed us.”

  “I’ll carry you if you faint.” Lexi in my arms would be no problem at all.

  “Pfft.” She turned to sneer at the newlyweds in the back. “Bev would kill us if we make a grander entrance than them.”

  I peered back too. “I thought she was kinda…nicer, earlier. Right after the ceremony.”

  She shook her head. “Fluke moment. Or she’s gaining mood swings with her new name.”

  “Please welcome…” The DJ paused and Claudia prodded at my back. Okay. I could follow orders. I normally wanted to. This planner dictator was making me want to be as defiant as Lexi seemed to be, just out of spite.

  “Groomsman Jack O’Connor escorting bridesmaid and cousin of the bride, Alexis Regan.”

  We left the vestibule and entered the crowded dining hall. People clapped and cheered as Lexi and I walked in. The upbeat tempo of the tune the DJ had running in the background quickly changed to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s most famous song about large behinds.

  “You fucker.”

  Lexi muttered it, echoing the exact same sentiment that ran through my mind. I sliced a glare to the bald man in the suit laughing behind his music stand. He sobered, taking on the same mama-help-me! kind of pissed-scared face some punks wore when they thought to talk back to me on the highway. Maybe he did piss his panties a little as I made to walk over to his DJ stand, my fist already balled. Lexi laughed and redirected me in our beeline to the table.

  Following through with her pulling me back to her, I picked my partner up. I finished it with a spin of her in my arms as we crossed the expanse of the marble floor. Ooohs and aaws overrode the DJ’s music as it resumed to what it was before.

  I’d apologize to Bev later. Distracting the room from that asswad’s little joke was worth it. So were the giggles from Lexi as she pushed out of my grip to stand again.

  “Guess I know who’s the bad cop and who’s the good cop between you and Bev,” she quipped. “If looks could kill…”

  “That miserable piece of shit.”

  She patted and then stroked her hand down my chest, as though soothing me. “Down, boy.” Then she tapped her cheek to my shoulder. “But thank you, Mr. Knight, for coming to the rescue.”

  Her lighthearted mood and still present smile indicated otherwise. Lexi didn’t need my rescuing when she could take a hit on her own. The DJ’s jab hadn’t even bothered her, as far as I could tell, as she swayed her sexy hips next to me. In one ear and out the other. I doubted many other publicly fat-shamed women would move on as flippantly. As if I needed another reminder of how Lexi was a woman I needed in my life. An in one ear and out the other filter was probably essential for any relationship to have a real chance at success.

  And, if I had to be honest, she was in my life. I was soaking up the heat and torture of being close to her—across the table, but still—as we were gifted with dinner. Our seating arrangement with the rest of the bridal party wasn’t the most intimate or private of settings, but at least we were together. If Bev could’ve conformed to the typical round head table instead of some attempt of a regal setting with this long-ass table like we were delegates at a summit, I would’ve been right next to Lexi, close enough to drape my arm around her. I realized after the salad plates were cleared away that I was lucky last night. Since the rest of her family wasn’t staying at the lodge, and it was mostly us at the rehearsal, Lexi wasn’t pulled away to talk to others.

  I wished I could have that claim on her again, but I still smiled and said hello to her mother when Lexi introduced us before the main course dishes were presented.

  “What does she do, again?” I asked once the woman went back to her table. Bev mentioned it before, but I couldn’t place it.

  Lexi exhaled slowly. “Neurology. She’s the lead neurosurgeon at St. Charles.”

  Right… “I thought that was your dad?”

  She picked up her fork. “Nope. He’s the head cardiologist at the same hospital. And you already know Derik owns his own dentistry practice.”

  Nerves, heart, and teeth. Sounded like a lot of college and even more malpractice insurance.

  “And then there’s me.” She stabbed a roasted carrot. “Supervisor of Cuddle Masters.” She held the fork up like mocking a salute to the veggie. “Lexi Regan, creator of stuffed animals. I know.”

  “You know what?” I asked before taking a bite of my meal.

  After she chewed, she shrugged. “Coming from a family of prestigious, life-saving careers, I’m kind of an outlier.”

  “Hey, you march to the beat of your own drum.” Independence was sexy, hadn’t anyone ever told her?

  She licked her lips and I nearly lost her next words, mesmerized by the peekaboo of her tongue. I was still so damn hungry for a true taste of her. Her shyness and hesitation made me want to take her hand. But she was slicing her potato. Would have been weird to make her stop. And God we were still famished.

  “I march to the beat of I-need-to-meet-this-month’s-rent. I tried to follow in their footsteps. I took coding classes.”

  “Computer?”

  “Medical coding and billing. Growing up with a household of doctors got me plenty used to the jargon. But blood and guts aren’t my things, as in, I passed out so many times in Biology lab the teacher just waived my grade.
So, I thought I could handle medical scripts and coding.”

  “Not your thing either?”

  “Oh no. I went to a community college and aced my way to an associate’s. Graduated ahead of time. But finding a job in that oversaturated field?”

  “Ah.” I wiped my mouth. “So…supervising Cuddle Masters. They seriously call them that?”

  “Yes.” Eye roll. “Like a pansy BDSM title. Anyway, I’d started at the store while I was in college, because, bills. Then when I couldn’t find a coding job and they were looking for someone in management…” Shrug.

  Hey, that wasn’t anything to not be proud of. I might be a rules-follower because I was easygoing. But I couldn’t imagine the headache of being a boss. Was it like babysitting? Herding stoned chipmunks? And retail? I lacked the tolerance for selling anything. If someone wanted to buy a product, they would when they wanted to. Why push and prod them like sheep? “Management in retail must be a challenging career. Give yourself some credit.”

  She raised her brows as she cut her meat. “Oh, challenging it is. And I’m proud of my job and do a damn good job of it, despite its silliness. I can’t say it’s as important as saving a life though.”

  “But”—I nudged her knee under the table, something of a physical touch to brighten her mood—“if you screw up, it’s not like you’re killing someone.”

  She blinked once. Twice. “Blunt, and God, that’s depressingly scary but true.” After she shuddered, she heaved a deep breath “So, Mr. Trooper. Why law enforcement?”

  Alrighty then. Change of topic. I got that she was probably used to looking down on her job. Something I’d have to keep in mind to dissuade her from. That whole don’t let people define you pact we’d made. I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily, yet.

  “I like rules.”

  “Talk about a generalization.”

  “And steady paychecks.”

  She nodded and raised her glass to me. Silverware started tinkling and she frowned, looking around. I scanned the room too, seeing that people must have taken Lexi’s cue as a hint for Bev and Paul to kiss.