How could I be both happy for them and envious at the same time? It was proof that I was a terrible person. That I couldn’t just celebrate with everyone else. That I’d felt compelled to get away.
Jack caught sight of me right away, and whatever he read on my face had him frowning.
“Hey,” he said, rounding the bar and coming toward me. “What happened?”
I had no idea what to say. Shame kept my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.
Jack’s hazel eyes watched me worriedly. But I wasn’t in danger of having an anxiety attack. This was a different sort of breakdown.
I felt weary, in my heart, down to my bones. And so damn disappointed in myself.
“Bonnie,” he tried again, voice soft and coaxing. “What do you need?”
There it was again. That question. Need versus want. Jack’s choice of words might not have made a difference to him, but it meant something to me.
“I just need a minute,” I eventually got out.
He glanced briefly toward our table before focusing on me. Then he held out a hand.
I laced our fingers together and let him lead me toward the back of the bar, past high-top tables and a row of booths. We entered a hallway. A door on the left marked the men’s room, while a doorway was open on the right.
Inside, there was a small foyer with dark wallpaper in black-and-gold geometric patterns. A door on the far side was for the women’s restroom, while the door closest to us was labeled “Powder Room.”
Jack tugged me toward the powder room and, once he’d noted it was empty, guided me inside and closed the door behind us. He removed a ring of keys from his pocket, locking the door from the inside.
It was quiet, the change in location enough to have my shoulders relaxing. There was a long counter beneath a mirror. Baskets of products occupied the space as well as a vase of flowers, boxes of tissues, and bottles of lotion. Two couches lined adjacent walls with a low footstool in between.
“What is this place?” I asked as I ran a hand across the soft upholstery of the couch.
Jack shifted uncomfortably, drawing my attention. “Initially, it was for Sasha. After she had the baby, she needed a place to pump while she was on shift.”
“That was really thoughtful of management.”
He pressed a hand along his jaw awkwardly, like the thought of talking about a woman breastfeeding made him itchy. I fought a smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “afterward it became a powder room. The tourists seem to like it.”
Now that I’d gotten a good look at the place, I thought Larry had mentioned it. She spent more time at Magnolia than the rest of us on account of Kayla being her best friend since childhood. She often visited her friend while she was bartending.
I eyed the couch thoughtfully. “It is really nice. I think Larry passed out in here once.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind,” I chirped.
The change of scenery had definitely distracted me from the wild emotions surging through me. My conflicting feelings were still there, but they weren’t in danger of spilling out all over the people I loved—people who would be hurt, if they saw the truth.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I said.
Jack sat on the ottoman and patted the couch before him in invitation. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I took a seat, and he wrapped a warm hand around my calf. The touch beneath the hem of my flowy skirt was grounding and welcome. But I didn’t think I could admit my failings and discuss why I’d been so rattled moments ago.
“I think it was just too much,” I admitted instead. “I felt overwhelmed. I don’t know.”
He nodded, accepting my vague explanation.
My eyes lingered on him, the glasses he wore, and the few dark strands that had come loose from his tiny stub of a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Combined with the slim-fitting white dress shirt and the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, the tattoos there, he looked positively sinful. The studious rogue. A wicked fantasy.
