Page 86 of Forever Wild

Chapter forty-four

Jameson

I’ve been to the bathroom six times since Lila told me Bryn was in Arizona and on her way here right now. It can’t be good news that she decided to drive all the way to Arizona yesterday.

After I’d been to the bathroom twice in ten minutes, Lila politely inquired as to the state of my GI health. The two middle fingers I shot her way did nothing to deter JT from asking me the next time if he needed to go buy me some Tums. At this point, I’m not even going into the stalls. It’s just direction for the pacing currently sandwiching my self-reflection time.

I am a fucking idiot. Each time I look into the mirror, each step I take along my well-worn path to the bathroom, each beat of my heart, reminds me of this indisputable fact.

I am a fucking idiot who may have lost the love of his life.

The girl of my dreams.

My happily ever after.

And while I would understand if Bryn decides to dump my ass after the way I left her on her own after the article came out, my heart would never be the same. I know for a fact that Bryn is it for me. And now that I’ve had her, now that I know what love truly feels like, I know I can’t settle for anything less than what I have with Bryn.

Which is why I can’t get my feet or my brain to settle down. As I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, my hands braced on either side of the white porcelain sink, I know I’m at a crossroads. Bryn is going to walk in any minute now, and she holds my happiness in the palm of her hand. I’m not sure how, after everything with Alexis, I ended up handing my heart over so easily, but with Bryn, it’s always been that easy. It’s been the type of love I saw with my parents. The support. The holding hands. The casual acts of love and kindness that build into a great love story.

Shit. She could walk through those doors any minute now. I give myself one last look in the mirror, one final word of warning—Don’t fucking mess this up, Jameo—and head back out into the bar.

JT and Lila are at the table, arguing about something, likely me, based on the way they stop talking every time I get back to the table. I don’t even bother asking again what they were talking about.

I sink down on the dark faux leather booth, making sure I keep an eye on the door.

“How long until they are here?” I ask, running my hand through my already disheveled hair.

Lila makes a show of checking her watch, the bright face lighting up as she flicks her wrist over. “Any time now. Like I told you when you asked two minutes ago before you stomped off to do God knows what in the bathroom.”

She’s trying to distract me. I know she is. But dammit, I can’t help but take the bait. “What, exactly, do you think I’m getting up to in there, Lila? Do you have some nefarious bathroom exploits you’d like to share with the class?”

JT snort-coughs so hard that liquid flies from his mouth (maybe nose, but I’m a good friend, so I’m choosing to overlook that possibility). Lila watches, a devious glint in her eye. One I know well from growing up together. “Actually,” she starts. “Now that you mention it, there was this time in a hotel room, and the counter top was juuuust—”

“Jesus Christ, Lila,” I cut in, passing a wad of napkins to JT, who is about to die next to me. “I obviously don’t want to know the details of your sex life. In my mind, you are and will forever be an asexual blob.”

“Oh, really?” she asks, looking at me. Then she turns her full attention to the poor man next to me who seems to be sending his drink out all the wrong . “What about you, JT? Do you see me as an asexual blob?”

But I don’t hear his answer because at that moment, the air shifts, and a pull from deep inside me draws my attention to the door opening at the front of the bar and the beautiful woman walking inside, flanked by her two sisters. I would know the lines of that face anywhere. That body that could make stronger men than me weak at the knees. The lips that turn into a smile that, when earned, is one of the very best rewards in the world.

I’m out of my seat before the door finishes closing behind her, forcing myself not to run or create a scene in my haste to reach her. Not to scoop her into my arms, throw her over my shoulder, and keep her locked up until she agrees to forgive me. Instead, I meet her halfway to our table and, when I see the look of hurt and confusion on her face, pull her into a deep hug. Her face presses up against my chest, and, for one heart-stopping moment, she doesn’t return the hug. But then she’s sliding her arms around my waist and leaning into me, and a small ember of hope lights in my chest as I breathe in her scent.

I know that ember could end up burning me, though. Forgiveness is not something I’ve earned at this point. I know that. It’s very possible Bryn will still decide this isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it.

Over her sister’s shoulder, Kelsey raises her eyebrow at me, and I catch Izzy as she whispers behind her hand, “Did he just sniff her hair?” I honestly can’t care what they think right now. I close my eyes and inhale deeply again, resting my cheek on the hair that I did, in fact, just sniff. I’ve got Bryn in my arms, and I will do everything in my power to keep her here.

“Hi, baby,” I whisper into the top of her head. Her shoulders start shaking, and I am shocked when I pull her back and see the tears streaming down her face.

“Fuck,” I breathe, knowing that Bryn is not someone who cries often, who abhors the thought of crying in public. Pulling her back into my arms, I look to her sisters. Am I going to lose her? Is it this bad? I try to telegraph with my eyes.

Kelsey’s eyes are skeptical and seem to be saying “Of course it is, you dumbass.” Izzy, I’m having a hard time deciphering her look, but it seems to be a combination of “go fuck yourself” and “I’m rooting for you two kids.” That’s not confusing at all.

Someone clears their throat next to me, and a look from JT, who is now standing next to me in the middle of the bar, reminds me that I’m not alone. That I am a public figure standing in a public place, holding a crying woman. A woman who has received more press this week than she’s ever wanted in her entire life. A woman I left alone, like the fucking idiot I am, to deal with it herself.

I start to turn us back to the table, but Kelsey stops me.

“Bryn has her car key.” She looks between us. “But maybe you should be the one to drive her car.”

“I don’t… I don’t feel great about leaving you all,” I start, but Izzy shakes her head.

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