Page 10 of Jett

She nods and disappears inside, just as the door flies open. Alicia walks in, her expression faltering when she sees me standing there.

“Oh.” She stops in her tracks and her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place—surprise? Annoyance? She wasn’t expecting me here.

“You’re not staying?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“It’s not my scene.” She chews her lower lip. “God, that makes me sound like the wicked stepmother, doesn’t it?” Her fingers thread through her silky dark hair. It falls perfectly over her shoulders, framing her face, softening her sharp features. All I can do is stand there and stare as envy pours over me. I wish I could look as effortlessly stunning as she does. It’s a far cry from my practical, barely-there makeup, freckled face, and frizzy hair.

Stepmother? Is there something brewing? “No, it just means you’re busy,” I offer politely. But the image of her in Monaco, lounging on a balcony in nothing but Jett’s white shirt, cuts through me like a blade. My heart twists. I wish I didn’t care so much. I wish it didn’t sting.

But it does.

And that is why I need to leave.

Someday soon.

Like next week.

I’m going to do it.

“I adore Brooke, truly,” Alicia says quickly. “She’s a sweet girl, but she won’t miss me. Besides, I have a huge case next week and it was impossible to prep for it properly while on vacation.” She gives a naughty giggle, and I immediately think of her and Jett together. They make a stunning couple, an unstoppable duo. They must turn heads wherever they go. Me? I’m a plain Jane with red hair, freckles, and I’m on the short side. Ridiculous fantasies swirl in my head, but that’s all they are—fantasies.

“It’s understandable then, why you can’t stay,” I manage to say, though something in my chest tightens. Not only is this creature jaw-droppingly beautiful, she’s also brainy. I’ve noticed that Jett often falls for women who have brains. Why does that surprise me? They are beauties, but they are also professional women. Fashion buyers, attorneys, doctors, CEOs.

I’m just a pathetic assistant. Hopefully a florist one day, and the CEO of my own little kiosk. Though it’s hardly in the same league.

“You did a fantastic job with the party, by the way.” Her compliment is as polished as she is, but I can hear the edge in her voice. “Jett says you took care of everything.”

I blink and smile. “I just wanted Brooke to have an unforgettable birthday.”

“Yeah?” She reapplies her lipstick. “I’m sure she did. It was good of you to make such an effort. Jett was in awe.” Her voice trails off, and she gives me a thoughtful look.

Does she know? Can she sense my feelings for him? My useless, delusional, pathetic crush? If she suspects, has she voiced her suspicions to him? I imagine them laughing at it over a bottle of expensive champagne.

I don’t know how to respond. I glance down at myself, feeling small and inadequate next to her. Ridiculous fantasies swirl in my head, but that’s all they are—fantasies.

The little girl returns, reaching for the faucet. “Here, let me help,” I say, turning it on for her. She’s on tiptoes to wash her hands, and I smile.

“You’re so good with kids,” Alicia observes, touching up her concealer. Her reflection catches mine in the mirror. “It’s no wonder Brooke adores you.”

“Brooke’s my friend,” the little girl says shyly, as if that explains everything.

“And that’s why you’re here, at Brooke’s party.” A bright red smile flashes across Alicia’s face. Her eyes glint with something I can’t place. Then she leans closer to the mirror, reapplying her lip gloss with precision.

I don’t like her tone or her patronizing comment to the little girl. “’Bye,” I say to Alicia, and lead the little girl back toward the party. My mind races as we reenter the room. Brooke’s face lights up when she sees me, her earlier frustration with her father forgotten.

But I haven’t forgotten. She’d been sullen this morning, upset that Jett hadn’t been here from the start. And the way her face crumpled when he and Alicia strolled in late—it hurt to watch.

The day hasn’t been terrible though. Brooke is happy now, and that’s all that matters. Jett seems to be impressed with the party, and I’m excited about my evening plans—The Mayflies concert is just what I need to unwind. I just have to get out of here.

I head towards Jett. He's leaning against a wall, watching Brooke playing games with her friends. He’s not in his signature Armani suit, but he still looks so eye-catching and sexy. He's wearing an expensive, casual blazer over dark jeans and a white shirt with the top two buttons open. It hurts to look at him.

I refocus on the concert this evening and I try to get in the right mindset for it. “I should head out,” I say to him. “Everything’s under control, and your brothers can help you wrap things up.”

He pushes off the wall. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, Jett. I’m leaving. I have a life away from you.” My insides roil at my words. Heat creeps along my neck. “The party’s in full swing and the kids are going to start eating soon. You and your brothers can supervise,” I say quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the wobble in my voice. I gesture toward Dex and Zach, who are standing by a table, laughing, talking, and oblivious to the chaos.

Jett blinks, looking utterly lost. “You want me to …supervise?” He looks around as if it suddenly registers that there are no parents here, and the Knights are the grown-ups. The parents will show up at the end of the party to collect their kids. Suddenly, he doesn’t look like the CEO of the tech company. He looks lost.

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