Hopeless Vows (14 page)

SITTING IN THE
back of the limo, I pull out my compact from my clutch and attempt to fix my makeup. After I’ve corrected the smudged lipstick, reapplied, and tried to blend the corners of my eyeshadow, I throw it back in my bag and zip it with a huff.

“What’s wrong?” Austin asks, sensing my stressed state.

I let you maul me before an important work function. What’s worse is I encouraged you!
I don’t say that though. Instead, I reply, “I just don’t want to be late, and my makeup doesn’t look right.”

“Look at me,” he demands gently. When I do, he continues, “There’s nothing wrong with your makeup. I mean, your lipstick was a little wrecked, but it’s good now.” One corner of his mouth pulls up in a cocky grin.

“Think that’s funny, do ya?” His only answer is to shrug, his smile growing wider. I nudge his shoulder, but it’s no use. He has every right to feel smug right now. I’m like a tornado spinning out of control, the destruction left in its wake is my life if I let this go any further. With each caress of his lips and swipe of his tongue, all rational thinking flies out the window. In that moment, I was lost in him with no hope of finding my way out. But I didn’t want to be found, and that’s perhaps the scariest part of the whole interaction.

“Seriously, you look stunning.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. His reassurance brings me back to my earlier insecurities.

“Are you sure the eyes don’t look too heavy? I sent a picture to Janey, and she thought I looked like a drag queen.”

He studies me with narrowed eyes. “Is this the same Janey who was supposed to go with you to this?” I had told Austin I had to revoke my invitation and that she was pretty upset about it.

“Yeah . . .” I draw out, not knowing where he’s going with this.

“She’s jealous.” There’s no inflection to his tone or facial expression. He says it very matter-of-factly like it’s the most obvious explanation.

I scoff as I roll my eyes. “She’s not jealous.”

“Why else would she say that to you?” he argues back.

“Because she’s my friend and doesn’t want me to look like an idiot.”

“She’s trying to rain on your parade.” I open my mouth to protest, but he interrupts me. “She’s being a bitch without being obvious about it.” I don’t respond probably because I don’t know what to say. It’s weird defending my friend to my husband. Austin shifts in his seat so that he’s facing me. “This is what you do, Jillian. It’s not only your job, but your passion. I don’t know why you’re listening to someone who doesn’t have a clue. You look perfect. Trust me.”

I grab his hand and squeeze it lightly, my silent thanks for the reassurance. I’m not sure why I’m letting Janey’s comment get to me. Give me clothes and accessories, and I’m good. But for some reason, I struggle with hair and makeup. I wonder if Austin is right, and she is playing up on my insecurities to ruin my night. The thought is quickly dismissed. She’s my best friend. She wouldn’t be spiteful like that.

My eyes travel the interior of the limousine. It’s sleek and roomy with a small bar off to the side. The ride would be nice, if a cameraman wasn’t sitting directly in front of me with the lens in my face. That’s when it dawns on me this little exchange could very well end up on television, which means Janey will see it.

Awesome.

Just one more thing for me to worry about.

The evening runs smoothly. I introduce Austin to my colleagues as well as some of the designers and vendors I work closely with. His ability to adapt to any scenario he’s thrown into is amazing. He knows a little about everything, making it easy to find common ground with each person and start conversation. He comes off at ease, making the other person feel comfortable in his presence. Often times, I find myself fading into the background as I watch him interact with everyone. He’s captivating and charming.

We’re walking to the bar when I spot my boss. Taking a deep breath, I pull on Austin’s arm lightly to guide him in her direction. “That’s my boss, Karen Van der Boor,” I whisper.

“Ah,” he whispers back.

“Lovely event, Mrs. Van der Boor,” I say once we’ve reached her and she’s excused herself from her current conversation.

“Thank you, Jillian. I trust you’re enjoying yourself then.” Karen is dressed in a crimson gown with a simple top and a structured, ruffled bottom. She’s paired it with large, jeweled accessories and exudes confidence, superiority, and power.

“I am, thank you. Mrs. Van der Boor, I’m sure you remember Austin.” I loop my right arm through his left.

“How could I forget? It’s not every day someone marries a complete stranger.” Her tone is one of condescension and pessimism. As if she already knows this won’t work. I mean, it’s not going to given the circumstances, but she doesn’t know that. While my cheeks heat in embarrassment, Austin chuckles loudly beside me.

“Well, you have me there,” he says with another deep laugh. “Of course, crazier things have worked out. After all, it’s not every day a girl from small town Alabama grows up to run one of the world’s most up and coming fashion magazines.”

Karen studies Austin over the bridge of her nose for a minute, looking him up and down. After several tense moments, she cracks a smile. “I suppose you’re right.” With a nod, she says, “Enjoy the rest of your evening Mr. and Mrs. James.” As she passes by me, she pauses and lowers her voice to where only I can hear. “I like him.” Then she walks off.

I’m stunned. That’s probably the first time I’ve ever heard her say she actually likes somebody. My hand goes to my hip. “Aren’t you the charmer?”

He shrugs. “I may have done my homework.”

I want to touch him. I want to pull him close and show him how he makes me feel. He knew this was important to me, and the fact he took the extra step means everything.

“You’re perfect.” My lips press together to keep any other confessions from leaking out.

He takes a step closer to me and runs the back of his hand down my cheek. “I don’t know about that, but maybe I’m perfect for you.”

We stare into each other’s eyes, searching for what, I’m not sure. We’re a breath away from each other, making the space between hot and filled with pent up energy. At any second, one of us is going to crack and cross the line, and I’m afraid it’ll turn into a repeat of earlier. My tongue darts out instinctively to moisturize my lips when his eyes trail down to them. He leans in ever so slowly, not rushing his progression. I’m on pins and needles, wanting his lips on mine, but knowing it’s the last thing I need.

“Austin, I thought that was you,” a female’s voice interrupts us. Reluctantly, I turn to see who it is and am met with none other than Chloe Rogers. My stomach drops.

Austin clears his throat. “Chloe, what a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?” He leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. My jaw clenches as I witness the exchange. He pulls back, giving me a full view of her. She’s wearing a fitted bright, blue gown that looks like it was painted on her. Honestly, I don’t know how she got into the damn thing. The neckline plunges indecently low, exposing the inside of her breasts. Her auburn hair is slicked back and so shiny it looks greasy. She looks cheap—easy.

“Oh, you know, just rubbing elbows with current and potential clients. You clean up real nice.” Her blue eyes trail up and down the length of his body in a salacious way, putting me on edge. “It’s a shame we never got to go anywhere together like this.” She moves closer, sashaying her hips the way she did when she showed us our apartment. When she’s a few inches from him, she raises her hand and dusts some imaginary lint off of his shoulder. Her hand slides down his arm, touching him unnecessarily. My blood is boiling at Chloe’s blatant disregard for me. I’m standing right next to him. It’s clear I’m his date—his wife—and she has the nerve to come over and flirt with him so openly.

He politely removes her hand from his forearm and secures his arm around my waist. Smiling down at me, he says, “Yes, well, I’m a firm believer in everything happening for a reason.” His focus never leaves mine, and it’s like we’re back in our own bubble again. The depths of his warm brown eyes radiate adoration. My initial instinct is to panic, but a calm settles over me in his hold as I realize my eyes must mirror his. Because for everything I’ve told myself, the feelings I have for him are mounting, and fast. They’re building like a tsunami, and I’m the shore, powerless to stop the inevitable. “Would you like to dance?” he asks me barely above a whisper. I nod in response. Without breaking eye contact from me, he says, “Excuse us, Chloe. I’d like to dance with my wife.”

The warmth in my chest isn’t unnoticed by me, and neither is the huff coming from Chloe. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a small sense of satisfaction at his dismissal of her advances.

Once out on the dance floor, Austin pulls me close and never lets go. Looking up at him, one thing is for certain.

I’m falling for my husband.

Austin

TODAY I’M MEETING
with our sociologist, Dr. Terry. Unlike the interviews we’re forced to do with the producers, this doesn’t bother me. There are four doctors who all specialize in a specific area, be it spirituality, sexuality, sociology, or psychology. Each doctor is here to give us the tools to succeed in our relationship, no matter how unconventional it is. Once I’m inside his office, I have a seat in the chair across from him. I like his office in that it feels more like a living room. It makes me feel comfortable and relaxed.

After a little small talk, he asks, “How’s your relationship with Jillian progressing?” A smile appears on my face. I can’t help it. Just the mention of her makes me happy. “By your expression I’d assume it’s going well?”

“Yeah, we’re good. I think we’re still feeling each other out, but I’m happy with where we’re at.”

“That’s good.” Dr. Terry looks down at his notepad before continuing. “I wanted to talk a little more about your childhood. One of the reasons we paired you guys together is because you’ve both suffered tragedy at a young age. Your backstories are similar and you can build a strong bond and understanding from that. Have you guys discussed this?”

“Not really. We don’t talk about our families much, but whenever it comes up, I can tell it’s sorta off limits.” I’ve wanted to ask her questions about what happened, but I don’t want to upset her. If she doesn’t discuss it, there’s probably a reason.

“Why do you think that is?”

I shrug. “I’m not the one with the psych degree, doc,” I joke. He smiles and waits for me to answer. A long sigh leaves my lips. “Maybe it’s too hard for her to talk about. I don’t know the details surrounding their death, so she might have seen something that’s hard for her to relive.”

“Does it upset you that she won’t confide in you?”

My eyes look up at the ceiling, contemplating his question. “Not really. At least not yet. We’ve only known each other for going on four weeks, so I don’t expect her to divulge all her secrets right away. I want Jillian to trust me with things she’s never told anyone, things that are hard for her to talk about. That’s why I don’t pressure her to tell me. She’ll open up when she’s ready, and I’ll be here for her when she does.”