Page 66 of Where We Promise

Hurt tried to break through the haze of joy that I’d been swept up in all day, but without proof, I just wouldn’t let it. For now, I’d tuck away my assumption and hope for the best. At least until I had the chance to find a wildflower and press it into my journal with a wish.

We danced, ate, and drank for another three hours. By the time the night wound down, I was barefoot and exhausted. Even the flats were becoming too tight with my swollen ankles.

It was close to eight when that steady presence at my back shifted in front of me, tugging my hand into his.

Jameson looked as tired as I felt as he pulled me behind him, pushing through our little celebration. It had started with maybe fifty people from the wedding but had grown significantly as the night went on. I didn’t miss that Jameson took us through the back to where he’d parked his truck. I wondered if that had to do with the still tense relations in town due to the online activists. They’d mostly waned over these last few weeks, from what I understood, but I could sense the clubs were still on alert. I pushed the thoughts away as I took in the tall white truck before me. Someone had decorated his windows with pink and blue markers, the words, “Just Married,” covering every free inch, along with images of wedding bells and…yep, penises.

Jameson helped me into the passenger seat while a few people spilled out of the coffee bistro, clapping and yelling for us. I noticed most of them, surprisingly, were members of the Chaos Kings. It seemed that Jameson’s plan had worked. The second we said I do, his side of the hall had erupted, and then I was hugged, smiled at, and called their new Queen of Chaos.

I felt a warmth begin to glow in my sternum, but I tamped it down. These same men had treated me like garbage mere days before. It shouldn’t have taken a fucking wedding to earn respect or even to just be treated civilly.

With both of his hands on the wheel and a look over his shoulder, Jameson veered us away from Rose Ridge. We passed the city limits and kept going until we’d cleared the neighboring town of Pyle and the farmland surrounding it.

“Where are we going?” I rubbed the silk still covering my stomach. Thankfully my dress was comfortable. I’d found something cheap and easy to alter, with the right paneling—the dress stretched for me while still looking gorgeous.

Jamie flicked a smile over at me. “West Burling.”

My mouth dropped. “Everything there is extremely expensive…it’s where all the people who don’t want to live in Richland go. All the elite upper class with tax brackets that we couldn’t?—”

His hand came over and gripped mine. “I know.”

With a steady gaze on the road, and a gentle hold on my hand, I let his words settle and decided I wouldn’t ask anything more and just let the night unfold.

West Burling crept up nearly forty minutes later, and as much as I hated myself for it, I sat forward in my seat as I took in the tall buildings all lit up and the beautiful moon—white sidewalks all tailored with iron lampposts and twinkle lights. People were walking down the street in and out of shops, holding shopping bags while laughing together. Women wore sleek bobs with glossy hair that shone under the bright signs, their false lashes and perfectly-manicured nails lit up under the soft lighting of their cell phone screens that likely cost more than my whole car.

Top of the line phones and smart watches, purses and shoes. Most of the people I saw were in their late forties to early fifties. They were the wealthy elite who probably thought they were slumming it by not living in Richland. I nearly laughed as I wondered if they called this town small or quaint.

Jameson kept going until we were pulling into a half loop in front of an enormous hotel, several stories high. The entrance was all lit up and the glass door gleamed as someone ran out to greet us. Jameson jumped out of the truck and talked with them, then walked over to my side, opening the door.

“Welcome, Mrs. King, we’re very glad that you chose The Heights as your honeymoon destination.”

My stomach flipped, which resulted in another hard kick from my son.

Mrs. King.

All the words seemed to fly so effortlessly as Jameson held my hand and helped me step down from the truck. I smiled at the man wearing a red velvet blazer, his gold name badge gleaming under the lights.

“Thank you, Kenny.”

He smiled, giving me a blush. “Your suite is all ready for you, please allow me to bring your things up and park your vehicle.”

Kenny handed Jameson a ticket of some kind, while Jamie handed off our keys, and then the valet gestured toward the parting glass doors. I had never been in anything so nice. The marble floors looked like glass under the lights, and there was a fountain in the lobby with ceilings that I had to tip my head back to see. Everywhere I looked, there was more opulence than I had ever dreamed of.

We stopped by a desk only briefly to get our room key, which was on a small circular key fob and then Jameson was guiding me toward a set of elevators. I didn’t dare say anything out loud, not about how nice this place was or how he was able to afford it…or the biggest question of all, why on earth he was treating this like a real honeymoon.

I watched and waited as Jameson pressed the last number on the lit board, thirty-one, right before the letter P. The doors closed and we briskly moved up from the lobby, all thirty floors, until we’d stopped on thirty-one.

Jameson had to swipe his key for the doors to open.

“There are only a few suites on this floor, the top floor is the penthouse and while I did consider it, I ended up going with one of these suites instead.”

My shoes pressed into plush carpet as we walked past one white door with the letter T near the eyehole, then there was nothing for quite a while as we continued to walk. I tipped my head back and took in the chandelier, dripping glass that looked an awful lot like diamonds.

“Here we are,” Jameson whispered, bringing my face level with the white door in front of us. Ours had the letter, M.

With a sexy smile and one that belonged to the Jameson I knew years before, he slid the key fob over the black key pad and pushed the door open.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever have another one, but as far your first goes, I hope this honeymoon makes you happy.”

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