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“Do whatever you gotta do.” Bishop waves us off, and I follow my mom through the crowd toward my family, who all seem to be wearing slightly strained smiles. Hanna is at the end, beside Gerald, who’s holding a beer in each hand. Her eyes are wide, and she’s mouthing something at me, but I’m not adept at reading lips so I have no idea what she’s trying to say.
Not that it matters, because the moment I get close enough, my dad and Gerald step away from each other, and my surprise appears.
Jessica.
My ex.CHAPTER 28
WHAT THE H-E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS?
Kingston
“Surprise!” Jessica hurtles herself at me, which is as much of a shock as she is. She’s more of a kiss on the cheek and an arm squeeze kind of woman, especially in public places.
I turn my head in my mother’s direction, which is a good thing because Jessica’s lips connect with my cheek. My mother looks gleeful, and Hanna, who’s standing beside her, looks helpless and apologetic.
I scan the bar, searching for Queenie. This is not ideal at all. I can’t introduce my girlfriend to my family when my ex has shown up for whatever reason. I pat Jessica on the back once before I take her by the shoulders and disconnect her from me. “What’re you doing here?”
Her smile falters, possibly because of my harsh tone. “Your mother invited me as a surprise.” She glances at Mom and then back at me, her expression shifting from excitement to uncertainty. “She said you’d be happy to see me, but you don’t really look all that happy.”
I blow out a breath and try not to take my frustration out on Jessica, because it’s not her fault that my mother is a natural-born meddler. She generally has good intentions, but she misses the point. And now, despite the fact that I’ve told her repeatedly that Jessica and I are not getting back together, here she is.
“It’s not that, it’s just—” I spot Queenie across the bar. Her eyes lock with mine and shift quickly to Jessica, whose shoulders I’m holding on to. She also has her hands on my chest.
I have to assume Queenie knows what Jessica looks like. There are eight years’ worth of photos of us together at various events, and just because we broke up doesn’t mean I’m going to erase her from my life.
She scans the faces around me, gaze bouncing around my family—it’s rather obvious that they’re mine, since they’re all wearing hand-knitted sweaters with my face on them. Apart from Hanna, since she’s sane, and also she didn’t fly in with the rest of them. Even Jessica is wearing one.
When Queenie spots Jessica, her expression shifts to something that looks a lot like defeat. She doesn’t make a move to come to me; instead she gives me a small, sad smile, inclines her head toward the exit, and starts moving in that direction.
“I need to deal with . . . someone important,” I mutter, and I try to step around Jessica.
She grabs my arm. “I came all the way from Tennessee to see you.”
“I know, and I’m confused as to why, so we’ll have to talk about that, but after I speak with my girlfriend.” I shake her off and pin my mother with an unimpressed look. “This is a step too far,” I tell her as I make my way through the crowd, following Queenie. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I reach the door and push outside. It spits me out into the alley behind the bar. It smells like garbage and urine. Queenie is standing there, phone in one hand, her face half-masked because it’s buried in the crook of her elbow.
“Oh God! This is horrible!” I turn to find Jessica with her hand covering her mouth and nose, gagging, but her delicate sense of smell really isn’t a priority right now.
“Can you please go back inside, Jessica? Your presence is the opposite of helpful at the moment.”
She lowers her hand, and her mouth drops open. “You aren’t being very nice to me right now.” But her mouth clamps shut just as quickly, and the hand comes back up to shield her from the smell.
“I’m aware.” I move past her and gently take Queenie by the elbow, guiding her away from the noxious odors.
She waits until we’re not breathing in garbage before she lowers her hand. “Your family brought your ex-girlfriend with them.”
“I didn’t know until now. I’m sorry.”
I reach out to . . . I don’t know . . . touch her, hug her, reassure her. Something.
But she raises her hand and takes a step back, shaking her head slowly.
“Queenie, please understand. I had no idea.”
“I believe you.” She turns her head to the side and looks up at the sky, and a single tear cascades down her cheek. “But it’s a pretty strong message, don’t you think?”
