Page 87 of Fairy Tale Lies
“Yeah, well, Petite Bois natives like to keep to their city, eyeing Detroit with disdain,” he teased.
She gave him a light elbow to the ribs, though she wasn’t annoyed. Her spirits were too high. And he had a point.
“When I was a teenager, this place was one of my favorite places to hang.”
Greta loved when he told her pieces of his past, and she leaned in closer to hear him, asking, “Don’t you have to be twenty-one?”
“Yup. I was friends with a girl in one of the bands who played here regularly. She used to sneak me in. I became part of the scenery, helping the staff and the bands. Since I wasn’t causing any trouble, no one gave me grief about hanging around.”
The first chord of a new song rang out. It was rowdy, with a fast beat. Jacob’s warm breath tickled her neck. “Anyway, that was a while go. I haven’t been here in years.”
“Why? Did your rock star girlfriend move to another venue and you weren’t able to follow?” Greta hoped her jealousy wasn’t showing. His teenage years had long since passed, and old girlfriends shouldn’t matter.
“The band’s popularity grew, and they began touring, and, since I was no roadie or groupie, I didn’t follow.” He sounded amused, and it didn’t escape her notice he neither confirmed nor denied the past girlfriend. “Anyway, after my mom died, I didn’t have time for such things.”
His words broke her heart, reminding her how much life had suddenly and irrevocably changed for him. In the blink of an eye, he went from a carefree teenager to a boy forced to be a man, as he tried to hold a family together that was rapidly disintegrating into chaos.
She placed a tender hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry for what you’ve lost, Jacob.” She was speaking of his mother and the following difficult years.
The band switched to a slower song, and he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That’s life. Not always fair, but mostly good. Especially now, with you in my arms and knowing you’re coming home with me. Right now, it’s damn easy to believe in happily-ever-afters.”
His words caressed her heart, and she clutched them protectively in her soul. Closing her eyes, she leaned against him, placing her head against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. The sound was more beautiful than the music.
When the song ended, Jacob asked, “What do you say we go to the main floor? We’ll probably find Susan and Miguel there.”
Greta nodded, taking his hand, allowing him to lead her back down the stairs.
It took them a while to find their friends. The nightclub was packed, and Jacob kept distracting her with his enticing body, urging her to dance with him instead of searching for their friends. Eventually, and by happenstance, they ended up next to them on the dance floor.
“Okay, people, we have less than five minutes left,” called Maggie. “You have two options for ringing in the new one. Option one, spend it with us dancing from one year to the next. Option two, head over to the lobby or balcony bar, grab yourself a glass of champagne and watch the ball drop. Choice is yours.”
It seemed like the clock had sped forward, and the hands were racing each other into the new year. Greta didn’t care. She’d happily meet it with Jacob in her arms.
The band played a song she recognized and loved. Without a word, he brought her closer. They didn’t need to discuss their preference. Both knew what they wanted. To end and begin the year in each other’s arms.
ThreePence flawlessly switched from a modern slow song toAuld Lang Syne,and Jacob leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was both sweet and hot, filling Greta with a mixture of passion and love.
Moments later, thunderous cheers filled the building and another year slipped away, like the last pebbles of sand in an hourglass.
“Happy New Year,” Jacob whispered, running his smooth-shaven face along her cheek.
She kissed him again, and a slender arm wrapped around her waist, right above Jacob’s. She turned to the smiling faces of Susan and Miguel. She engulfed them in a hug.
“Happy New Year,” the couple shouted in excited, slightly slurred voices. Miguel managed to snag four champagne flutes from a passing waitress.
“May the upcoming year be as perfect as tonight,” Susan toasted.
“Let it be,” they shouted in gaiety and high spirits.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“What the hell’s that?” Jacob muttered.
“The alarm.” Greta rolled over, squinting in pain as the morning sunrays stabbed through her eyes and into her brain. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand and silenced its bleeping alarm. Letting it fall, she faced Jacob and removed the pillow he’d put on his face. “Sorry, sleepyhead, we have to get moving or risk being late.”
He peeked one eye open, glowering. “Late’s good.”
Jacob’s grumpy mood, mixed with her headache, wasn’t much encouragement to face the new year. Coupled with the fact they were expected at Mother and Nigel’s in a couple of hours for brunch made her want to use Jacob’s confiscated pillow to smother herself.
