His dark eyes narrowed. “She’s not you.”
His breath was a mixture of warmth and cinnamon from his long-gone breath mint. “What does that even mean?” I asked, my tears spilling over his fingertips.
His hands fell from my face as he breathed in and out through his nose, his temper rising. “Fuck, Cassie. What do you want to hear? How much I hate myself for getting drunk that night and losing the only girl in my life I’ve ever trusted and truly loved? How I called Dean fifty times a day for weeks begging him to tell me how I could get you back? Do you want to hear how fucking weak and pathetic I think I am for not being able to tell her no that night, when I knew what was at stake?”
His eyebrows pinched together and his jaw tensed as his emotions spilled out into the night air. “Do you want to hear how I tried to talk her out of keeping this baby so that it wouldn’t fuck everything up? How I begged her not to keep it, told her I’d pay for everything, I’d drive her there and give her money after it was all over, just to please not do this to me. And then how much of an asshole I felt after that too? Who tells someone that?”
I watched as he paced back and forth before falling to his knees, his hands covering his tortured face. His hands fell as he glanced up at me, tears reflecting in his eyes. “I am so fucking in love with you I can’t see straight. I don’t love her. I’ll never love her. But I fucked up and now I have to pay for it. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you,” he said. “Or losing you.”
I fell to the ground next to him, my teardrops staining the dry concrete below. I reached for his arms as he wrapped them tightly around my waist and pulled me in. There was no space between us, our bodies sharing the same air. Our foreheads touched and I closed my eyes. “Knowing you’re marrying someone who isn’t me,” I squeezed my eyes tighter to fight back the pain, “is literally killing me.”
“You don’t hate me?” he asked tentatively.
I opened my eyes to him, my pulse racing at his nearness. “I flew to Alabama to tell you not to get married, dummy. I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you.” I forced a small laugh.
“How about one last kiss then?” He grinned, his dimples illuminated by the moonlight.
“My heart’s already shattered beyond repair, what more damage could it do?”
My eyes closed as his lips pressed against mine. My broken heart sputtered to life as those pesky butterflies in my stomach flapped the dust off their wings. My mouth opened slightly and my tongue was immediately greeted by his. His lips softly opened and closed as our tongues danced with one another as if thrilled to have reconnected. Everything in the background faded away and nothing existed except that kiss. Nothing but the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the smell of his sweet, cinnamon-scented breath. His lips closed gingerly as he pulled away.
“I don’t know how to recover from this…from you,” I admitted, embarrassed.
“How do you think I feel? Do you have any idea how hard of an act you are to follow, Cassie Andrews? I will never be the same.”
He stood up before reaching out a hand to pull me to my feet. I took a shaky breath, suddenly distracted by the sound of tires screeching and the flash of headlights bouncing in our direction.
“Shit.” Jack looked at me apologetically and then back toward the oncoming car.
“Who is that?” I asked, and then suddenly I knew. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
I swallowed hard as the car came to a sudden stop and the driver’s side door flew open. Without turning off the ignition or closing the door, a petite, pixie-like brunette sprinted toward Jack. “When you didn’t come home, I got worried. All the other players are home already.” She flung her arms around Jack’s shoulders and squeezed, the massive diamond on her finger flashing. I looked away as my stomach lurched.
“What are you doing?” she asked as her eyes looked past Jack and fell onto mine, her eyes widening as realization set in. I eyed her tiny five-foot-one-inch frame and wished I could tackle it to the ground.
She pulled back from Jack’s arms. “What’s she doing here?” Jealousy was written all over her pinched little face.
Jack glanced at me before turning to face his future bride. “She came to see me. She wanted to talk.”
“She’s trying to stop the wedding, isn’t she? She doesn’t want us to be together, Jack! She’s trying to take you away from me and the baby!” She clutched her stomach before throwing her head into Jack’s chest.
“She just wanted to talk, Chrystle. Calm down.” Jack glanced at me as he awkwardly tried to console her.
She pulled her head from against his body and glared at me. “Don’t even think about showing up at the church tomorrow. You will not ruin this day for me! He’s not yours anymore!”
“Chrystle. Stop it.” Jack scolded her like a child as I looked around the empty parking lot to make sure her threats were really meant for me.
“Excuse me?” I said with a defensive snarl.
She placed a hand on her hip, her thigh jutting out to one side. “You think I don’t know who you are?” she asked before jerking Jack’s hand possessively into hers.
Anger swept over me, effectively blocking all the other emotions swirling around inside me. “I don’t give a fuck if you know who I am or not. Just be thankful you’re pregnant.”
Her jaw dropped slightly. “Or what?”
“Or else I’d be beating your tiny little ass right now for being a disrespectful slut who sleeps with other people’s boyfriends. You’re the worst kind of girl.”
“And what kind of girl is that?” She tried to sound tough and I had to hold back a smirk.
“The kind other girls can’t trust. You’re a backstabber, a liar, and a manipulative skank. You have no respect for boundaries or other people’s relationships.” Damn, it felt good to finally say those words to her face!
“You don’t even know me! Jack, say something!”
Before he could speak, I lit into her once again. “You didn’t care that Jack had a girlfriend back home, did you? And no matter how many times he told you about me, you told him I wasn’t there and what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me. You manipulated him that night into sleeping with you.”
She eyeballed me, unsure of how to respond, so I continued. “So you tell me…what kind of girl does that?”
“Cassandra, that’s enough,” Jack said sympathetically.