Page 69 of Passenger Princess

I won't deny that I also prayed to whatever god was watching over Jaime's outfit choices, thanking her for putting him in the perfectly fitted suit, black on black with dark dress shoes, every inch of him a dream.

When we walk into the ballroom, Jaime leads us to a large round table with familiar faces seated at it. Atlas Oaks as well as Stella and Willa Stone are all seated around it, and I smile.

I can’t help but turn to Jaime and put a hand on his arm, putting on a mask of faux nerves. “Do you think it’s okay if I say hello to them? I know I’m not on their approved list, but…”

He rolls his eyes and groans before putting his hand to my lowerback, his hand warm on my bare skin, before pushing me toward them.

"Hey, guys! Look, I made it past security this time without any kind of issue." I turn to Jaime, then to Stella. "Does this mean I've made it?"

"Jesus," Jaime grumbles under his breath.

“Oh, I like you,” Wes says, putting an arm around my shoulder and tugging me in for a side hug.

“Well, good, at least someone will. Jaime hates me, so?—”

“I don’t hate you," Jaime says with a huff.

I look at him with a loving gaze before continuing. “Oh, yes, I forgot. He’s in love with me and hateshimselffor it.”

“I’m not in love with you,” he says through gritted teeth, and I nod solemnly, looking at Wes.

“He’s in denial. It’s really hard on him.”

“Jesus fuck, woman," Jaime groans.

“I wish,” I say under my breath, and he looks to the ceiling, praying to another silent god.

“I thought we were over this shit?” he asks.

“All bets are off, big guy."

He looks at me, and it could be in my head, but I see the wheels turning like he's starting to understand what I’m saying and isn’t sure how he wants to play it.

Tough luck.

“Oh my god, it’s like a TV show,” Stella says under her breath, her husband pulling her in close.

“Never thought I’d see the day he met his match,” Reed says, watching Jaime and me just a foot apart, me looking up at him and him looking down at me. “Much less a five-foot princess.” Finally, I break my stare down with Jaime.

“A queen, thank you very much.”

Reed smiles wide before bowing. “I’m so sorry, your highness.

“I’ll accept it, I suppose.”

“Okay, you’re sitting with us,” Willa Stone says, coming over tome, putting an arm through mine and tugging me to where Stella is sitting. “And wemusttalk about this dress and how I can get myself one.”

And then I spend the next hour sitting with iconic songwriter Stella Greene and pop star Willa Stone talking about dresses and makeup and adventures, and I wonder the entire time how I got here.

And not once do I not feel Jaime’s eyes burning on me.

The music and dancing start after dinner, and during that time, I watch people get up and move to the dance floor, but I stay seated, occasionally chatting with the Atlas Oaks boys or Stella and Willa as they go out to mingle and return. This event has been fabulous since it’s, for once, not centered around me, meaning I'm just here to make an appearance, not have the spotlight on me.

But when one of my favorite songs comes on and the band plays the opening notes, I gasp and start to sway a bit, watching couples come together on the dance floor.

"What?" Jaime asks, looking around like a threat is going to jump from around the corner.

“I just…I love this song,” I mumble, then turn to him, eyes wide, lips pouting. “Can we please dance?”

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