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I’m such a fool. It’s been so obvious for so long.
‘Hey, chin up. He feels the same; I’m sure of it.’
I force a laugh and shake my head. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’
I do though. I remember everything he told me that night. I’ve replayed it verbatim, daily, and confessed much of it to Coco. We didn’t even make it past one night. How she can surmise that he feels anything more is beyond me.
‘Okay, ladies, get your lips around these.’ Bates flips over two square napkins and places martini glasses on top. They’re filled with a milky-looking concoction and have a sparkling snow-like finish around the rim.
It looks pretty, but milk? I’m no piña colada fan. ‘And this is?’
‘A White Christmas martini.’
‘Strong?’
‘Suitably.’ He grins. ‘You’ll love it, trust me.’
Both Coco and I give it a cautious sniff. It smells good. Creamy, vanilla with a hit of sweetness. I place it against my lips, get the instant hit of honey and sugar from the rim and take a sip. Whoa. It is strong...but it’s super-delicious.
‘Happy?’
Coco nods at Bates as I take a bigger drink.
‘It’s perfect.’ Perfect to take my mind off whatever’s happening deep down inside and beyond that office door.
‘Excellent,’ Bates says, moving off, happy that we are happy.
‘I’m serious, Cait,’ Coco says over the rim of her glass, eyes wide with her insistence. ‘I think Jackson’s in as deep as you are.’
‘And I think you’ve had one too many drinks.’
‘No, think about it. He let his guard down too—the things you did together... You don’t do that without trust, without a real connection.’
I scoff into my glass mid-sip. ‘Funny connection.’
‘Don’t mock it. The things he said to you; they run deep, they make him vulnerable. Maybe you got under his skin far too much and he’s running scared?’
I’m looking at her, I’m hearing her, but from the corner of my eye I see the door to Jackson’s office and I want to laugh at the very suggestion that Jackson would run scared. He’s in there now, fucking Blondie in all likelihood, and Coco wants to convince me he has feelings for me. Real feelings.
A moan to my left pulls my eye and I look to see the intimate arrangement of four in a recessed booth. Two men, two women, and they are deep in the moment, so deep, the passion reaches across the room. They’re having fun. They’re not bogged down by the ties of jealousy, possession, love. They’re enjoying what they can get. Like I used to.
I look back at Coco and she hasn’t even looked; she’s fixed on me. And she’s so loved up with Ash, nothing draws her attention in that way any more. I feel that bloody pang, that longing, and I can’t deny I want it too. The biggest realisation to come out of their wedding weekend was just how much I want what they have.
Is that because of Jackson too?
I know the reason there’s been no one since Jackson is because he made me feel all that and more. I know it’s because I feel more for him than I should. And I know that it’s left me like this. Unable to date. Unable to trust. Unable to let go.
Because the truth is, Coco’s right. I not only want him, I love him, I fucking love him.
And I can’t have him because he won’t let me in.
He’s made it clear that he’s not the man for me, and I can’t trust him with my heart.
But my heart wants what it wants...
‘I say we get Ash to drill him,’ Coco pipes up.
My laugh is abrupt. ‘What are we, Coco—a couple of kids in the playground, setting up snogs behind the bike shed?’
