“Chosewrong? You used him.”
She laughs. “Is that what he said?”
“You used him to make your ex jealous.” My nails dig into my arms. “You made him think you cared about him, when really, you were ready to throw him aside the moment you didn’t need him anymore. You don’t want him back. You just want to fuck with him again.”
Jessica’s eyes narrow. “Please. As soon as we got involved, he started asking Dad about job opportunities. I’m sure he thought I’d be able to put in a good word when the time came. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get to the top. We were usingeach otherthat entire summer.”
“That doesn’t mean—” I stop in my tracks at the sight of Jack striding out of the kitchen.
He heads for the tables, reaching out his hand for a shake at the first two-top. Despite my concern that my heart might beat straight out of my chest, I smile. I know this is awkward for him; there’s a tightness to his shoulders that betrays his unease, but he’s putting himself out there anyway.
I tear my gaze away, focusing on Jessica as she tracks his movements. With the chef’s jacket and aura of confidence, he looks devastatingly handsome. I chew the inside of my cheek, thinking furiously. This could derail everything. I should have said to hell with it and shoved her to the door the moment she opened her mouth.
Before I can come up with a plan, he spots us. His jaw tightens. Shit.
He says something to the table of diners he was schmoozing with, clapping a man on the shoulder before winding his way to the bar. “Jessica?”
Her smile wavers at his flat tone.
I look around nervously. An executive for Food Network is just a few seats down from us, and her gaze is on Jack, no doubt hoping for a hello. But his attention is all on us. As he looks between beautiful Jessica in her black dress, and then me, sweaty and awkward and stiff, something I could swear looks like hurt flickers in his eyes.
“She was just leaving,” I blurt, as Jessica says, “It’s good to see you.”
She fixes her smile, makes it big and wide and sharklike. She reaches out to touch the buttons on his jacket. “It’s been ages, Jack, hasn’t it?” she adds.
He bats her hands away. “What are you doing here? This is a private event.”
“That’s what your hostess said.” She pouts. “I was hoping we could—”
“If my girlfriend said it,” he interrupts, emphasizing the wordgirlfriendsoftly, intensely, as his eyes flick to mine, “then you better listen.”
My eyes widen. My heart hammers against my ribs like a bird taking flight.
Girlfriend. He called me his girlfriend.
Jessica scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”
His stony gaze doesn’t waver.
She looks like she’s just been slapped. “You traded down to her? Seriously?”
“You have thirty seconds to get to that door.”
“But—”
“I don’t care what kind of scene I have to make.” His voice is still low enough it isn’t carrying, but his tone is clipped. “Go.”
Jessica slides off the bar stool, flustered, her elegant veneer cracked. “Fine.” She grabs her purse, pats her hair. Somehow, she finds it in herself to squeeze my arm as she passes. Friendly, like we just made brunch plans. “Remember what I said, Poppy. Who knows, maybe he’s doing the same with you.”
“Ten seconds.”
Jessica stumbles in the direction of the door.
As Jack turns to me, that word echoes in my mind. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.Girlfriend.
Nothing has been the same since the hospital. The flimsy boundaries I put up blew away, and neither of us has bothered replacing them.
My chest cracks wide. Joy rushes through me, an avalanche I’m happily buried in. I lean over, wanting—needing—his lips on mine.
