Page 13 of The Comeback

“So do you plan a lot of weddings?” I ask. I looked her up earlier this week after I got the invite to this dinner. She works for a firm in Atlanta with almost ten event planners on staff. On the website, Ava is listed as doing weddings, fundraising events, small corporate trainings, and a handful of other things, like a Jane of all events, but the last several events listed in her portfolio were all weddings.

She stiffens and draws in a breath. I’m not sure what to make of that reaction. Isn’t she proud of what she does? “For the last couple of years, yeah.”

I glance at the small crowd mingling in the yard around us. “Gabriella will have you doing fundraising for her, I’m sure.”

She tenses even more, and I don’t know what I’ve said. With Gabriella looking for a political career, it makes sense that one of her best friends would get involved with the campaign, especially given Ava’s expertise. There were also several fundraisers in her portfolio. Her mouth is pressed into a line. “Not likely,” she says, turning her gaze away from me.

I raise my eyebrows. “You kind of already are, aren’t you?” I gesture with my chin to the guests in the yard. Besides the governor, there are friends of Gabriella’s family here that Gabriella will be hitting up for money when the time comes.

When Ava’s eyes come back around to me, they’re narrowed. The conversation has spiraled quickly, if the heat in her glare says anything. I’ve said something wrong, but as I scramble, I don’t know why the topic of her career and Gabriella’s future campaign are sensitive subjects. It’s a reminder that I don’t know her the way I used to.

“Excuse me?” She folds her arms and inches a step back from me. I didn’t realize we’d come so close together. It’s so natural. “I’m just doing what the bride asked.”

Maybe my tone was judgier than I thought. I can’t say why everything about this wedding is bugging me so much, except that I should be home, getting rest and prepping for the game on Sunday instead of schmoozing the governor. I know other guys on the team will be out partying tonight, so it’s unfair, but all this stuff in the middle of the season is too much for me.

I back up a step too. “Sorry. I just think all of this is over the top. Less a wedding and more a spectacle.”

Despite her arms held tightly in front of her, I can see her clenching her fist. “I guess I shouldn’t expect a guy who’s the most popular person in the state to understand the uphill battle Gabriella’s facing. Right now, most people in Texas only know about her because she’s marrying Colby Duncan.” She shakes her head at me, and it’s almost like disgust rains around me from her expression. “She shouldn’t have to work so hard, but she does, and you’re judging her for taking the opportunity she does have? You’ve changed, Jett.”

She stalks away, and I risk a glance toward Colby, who’s engrossed in conversation with Gabriella’s dad, thankfully. This interaction could definitely be counted as drama. In my defense, I didn’t know that asking about Ava’s plans for Gabriella would lead to a touchy subject.

But I could’ve kept my judgments about the wedding to myself.

I’m letting all of this overwhelm me, and I need to pull it together. Convoluting my irritation at Colby for the timing of the wedding with my unresolved feelings about Ava being back in my life is putting me off-balance more than anything. That’s on me.

I watch as Ava slows her march away to a calmer walk toward the house, brushing off Gabriella with a smile and hand gestures as she points inside. I read her lips. Ladies room. I pull my gaze quickly away when I realize how closely I’m paying attention to her. Colby breaks off from where he’s standing with Gabriella’s dad and joins me under the pergola.

“What was that?” he asks. Apparently his conversation didn’t distract him from seeing my conversation with Ava blowing up.

I wince. “Nothing. It’s fine. I’m going to grab something to drink.” He can’t expect my first few encounters with Ava to magically be easy, can he?

He frowns and snags my arm before I get away. “Is this going to be an issue, Combs?” Most of the guys shorten my last name to the last syllable, but the way Colby says it has me prickling.

“No, man. Of course not.” I force a smile that’s probably grim and stride away. Colby and I can count on each other unfailingly on the field. I need him to know it’s the same off the field.

Everything will be fine.

CHAPTER 8

AVA

I really thought Jett and I were going to be able to be friends.

I escape to the main-level powder room at Gabriella’s parents’ house, close the door behind me, put the seat down on the toilet, and sit, kicking off my heels.

The judgment in Jett’s tone about Gabriella’s wedding and how I’m using it was so obvious. We haven’t really spoken since I left, and he’s assuming I’ve become the type of person who would exploit a friend for my own gain? That stings. Maybe because I can kind of understand where Jett might get the idea that I’m behind the way we’re using the wedding as a PR move. Taking part in a major campaign like Gabriella’s would be the biggest thing I’ve ever done—just planning her wedding is already proving it can bring in big accounts for my firm if I get it right. If he thinks I talked Gabriella into it, he must know that Colby would go along with whatever Gabriella asked. But how can he think that of me?

When I left Nevada, I gave him a few days to cool off and then I called. A lot. He never answered. I tried to save a little bit of us so we wouldn’t be here now, where we barely know each other and yet things are still simmering below the surface. But Jett’s always been an all-or-nothing type of guy, so it never surprised me that once I walked out of his life, I was out for good. Is the way he’s acting just him trying to cope with the unbalance? The things he implied hurt. And if he voices any of that, even in passing? Like I said, Jett is one of the most popular guys in Texas. If he joins the voices of those criticizing Gabriella for choosing me to plan her wedding, Rutledge will hear about it, for sure.

I slip my heels back on, then wash my hands, but I don’t intend to stay here. The party is winding down, and I don’t need to be around while the caterer and the people hired to clean up do their thing. I text Gabriella before I leave.

Ava: I’m slipping out. I have some work calls I need to make. I’ll see you Monday.

We’ll meet up then and hash out the week’s plan together.

She texts a thumbs-up, although I know there will be questions later, when she and the governor aren’t deep in discussions about ways Gabriella can be involved with the causes he feels strongly about. As much stress as this dinner caused me, Gabriella was right to get him here to talk to her. He’ll be a powerful ally for her down the road.

Something else bugs me as I make my way out to my car. The whoop that my stomach did when Jett said Gabriella already had me fundraising for her, that I’d be doing more for her. The excited whoop. The what-if I’ve let hang out in the back of my mind since I gave in and agreed to plan Gabriella’s wedding. I can’t do fundraisers again. I can’t have Gabriella’s political success hanging on my ability to plan the right type of event and involve the right type of people. I’m a small part of that right now, but none of this is actually tied to her future career. Not yet. So I can’t decide whether it’s fear that makes me tap my fingers against the steering wheel on the way back to Kemah … or longing.

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