Page 87 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
“I guess I still haven’t learned how to listen very well.”
“You have learned how to dress, though,” I said, my voice muffled in his shirt.
He chuckled, pulling back and grabbing my small bag from me. “And you learned how to walk in heels.” His eyes dropped to my feet and one brow quirked. When he looked at me again, I swore I felt a heat behind his gaze.
I swallowed, tucking away a rogue strand of hair. “That’s what happens when you dress business casual everyday.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, nodding toward the carousel with the bags from Pittsburgh. “I miss wearing basketball shorts or swim trunks ninety percent of the time.”
“And I miss tank tops and sandals.”
It was small talk. It was stupid. But we were treading lightly, testing the waters, feeling each other out.
Jamie grabbed my bag off the carousel, not letting me take it no matter how I argued, and then we were making our way to the parking lot. We didn’t say much, a few sentences of small talk, Jamie telling me which way to turn to find where he’d parked. Once we reached his Jeep, he loaded my bags into the back and opened the passenger seat door for me.
“Welcome home, B,” he said as I slid in. I wasn’t sure if he meant South Florida or his Jeep.
The problem was, something had changed since the last time I’d been home. Mom was no longer here, Jenna was, but she was out of town, and Jamie’s Jeep suddenly felt uncomfortable. I sat with my hands in my lap, trying not to be obvious about the way my eyes stuck on the evidence of another woman being in my spot. There was a hair-tie wrapped around the gear shift, a pair of women’s running shorts in the back seat, a small picture of the two of them tucked into the corner of Jamie’s dashboard. I didn’t sink back and kick my shoes off, planting my heels on the dash in front of me. No, I sat rigid, hands folded in my lap, and looked out the window as Jamie drove me to my hotel.
“You okay over there?” he asked as we made a left turn.
I nodded. “Just tired. Long night.”
Jamie didn’t say anything else until he dropped me off at check in.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait?”
He grabbed my bags from the back and sat them down in front of me. I watched as every muscle in his back moved with the gesture, and it took me a second to find an answer to his question. “No, it’s fine. I think I need a quick nap,” I lied. There was no way I was sleeping, but I didn’t want to have to spend more time with Angel than was required.
“Okay,” he conceded, though he looked a little disappointed. “Just remember we’re doing the rehearsal ‘dinner’ kind of early since Angel and the girls have to catch a flight out for their bachelorette. Can you be at the country club at three?” He shifted, running a hand over the back of his head. “I would pick you up then, but I kind of have to be there earlier, and I know you want to sleep so…”
“I’ll catch a cab over. Don’t worry about me, Jamie Shaw,” I teased, nudging him as I swung my carry on over my shoulder again. He seemed to relax a little then, and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Never do.”
He didn’t make a move to leave at first. We stood, staring, our eyes saying more than our words as always.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “See you in a bit.”
With that, he rounded the Jeep and I turned, rolling my bag behind me. After I checked in, I collapsed on the cool comforter of the bed and let out a long, slow breath.
Here we go.
• • •
“B!” Sylvia ran toward me as soon as I walked into the dining room where the rehearsal dinner was being held. The country club was small but grand, and even in the brand new rose-colored lace dress and nude pumps I was wearing, I felt underdressed. Sylvia hit me like a wall and I stumbled back with a smile as she hugged me. “You’re here!”
“I am.”
She pulled back, still holding my arms in her hands as she called out behind her. “Mom! Dad! B’s here!”
Sylvia was Jamie’s youngest sister, and the only one I’d really ever gotten close with. I’d met Santana a few times, mostly during holidays, but we’d never really connected the way Sylvia and I had. She still called me sometimes, and when I moved back from Alder, she helped Jenna keep me sane.
“So good to see you, sweetheart,” Rhonda, Jamie’s mom said as she moved in next, kissing my cheeks. “Isn’t it so great to see her, Wes?”
