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Also, what she’d said was still ringing in my ears. James’s children are going to be some of the wealthiest people in the country. They have to be able to handle the duties that come with that sort of privilege—and their parents have to be able to help them do that.
I’d barely graduated high school. I had an alcoholic, grifter mother and an absent father. I lived in an apartment in the bad part of the city, and I was lucky to be there.
Also, there was the fact that I was a whore.
I swallowed my coffee. It tasted bitter, but I made myself drink it, anyway. I was not in a position to raise wealthy trust-fund children and help guide them through the duties that came with that sort of privilege. I got excited about James’s super-fluffy towels; his fancy coffeemaker was like a ride at Disney World to me. I didn’t have the experience or capacity to live in his world, or attempt to raise a family in it.
But it was this train of thought that brought me to my biggest problem. James was my John. Just because Celia Preston, my mother, and Jenny thought he cared about me did not make it true. Just because I hoped against hope that he cared about me did not make it true. He was paying for me to pretend I was his girlfriend. He was paying to f**k me.
The fact that he’d let me play with his hair yesterday afternoon and that he’d told me about his dead girlfriend did not a relationship make.
I was in love with him. That fact was as clear to me as the sun coming up outside. But I couldn’t let my feelings cloud my judgment. I had to protect myself a little, too. Otherwise this was going to hurt too badly. I wished I could put a shield around my heart, so it wouldn’t break all ugly and uneven when this was over…
Because that was the thing. James had told me he cared about me. But that was it. He’d held my hand. Our lovemaking had been totally intense—but how did I know he felt what I felt? Just being close to him made my heart feel as if it was going to burst. When he was inside me, I felt like I was going to weep because I finally felt complete.
I’d had a lot of sex. Too much. But none of it had ever made me feel anything close to the rush of emotion that I felt when I was with James. He’d been so tender with me, so loving, that it felt as if it was more than just sex for him, too.
But he hadn’t said a word about the future. He’d said he cared about me right now. And that was something, and I would cling to it when he was gone, but it was only what it was.
If he felt more than he was saying, it made it even worse.
“Hey.” He’d padded out to the living room in his sweats and nothing else. Of course, my traitor heart stopped when I saw him.
“Hey.” I got up and went to him. I ran my hands down his gorgeous chest and kissed him deeply. Because he was only mine for right now. And I wanted to remember all of it, every feel, every detail of him, for when I was alone again. Which would be all too soon.
James
“Can you do my cufflink?” I asked. I could manage on my own, but I wanted her to touch me.
Audrey clasped it and straightened my tuxedo jacket. “You look amazing,” she said, beaming at me. “I didn’t think you could look any hotter than you do in a suit. But wow.”
I laughed and ran my fingers down the pale lace of her dress. “You look stunning. I never knew I liked yellow until now.” Her hair was up in an elegant bun. Her gown was long and strapless, with beading along the waist. She looked like a princess. You would never know that she lived in a piss-poor tenement apartment in Southie. She wore the gown, jewelry, and flawless makeup regally, as if they were hers from the beginning, not some borrowed finery from her madam.
My gut twisted at the thought.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said, more casually than I felt.
“Are you nervous about the ceremony?”
“Not really—it’s more like adrenaline.”
She nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Me too.”
“Are you ready?” I asked, and she nodded. “Oh wait—I have something for you.” I grabbed a turquoise jewelry box from my dresser and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked. He voice was a little shaky.
“Just a necklace,” I said, watching her face. “I saw it yesterday when we were walking down Newbury Street. I had the concierge pick it up for me.” I’d seen it in the window, and I’d immediately wanted to buy it. It was beautiful and understated. It was a gift, but it was a selfish one: I wanted her to have something on her body from me. So I would always be touching her.
“I thought you might like to wear it today.” She opened the box and pulled out the delicate gold chain. There was a pendant attached, with two interlocking diamond-encrusted gold rings.
