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Toddplaceshishand on my back and smiles politely at the Jackson family. I fucking hate these events. Gritting my teeth, I plaster a fake smile upon my face, and shake the hands of the eldest male, then the son, and grandson. Todd tells me their names, but honestly, I just don’t give a crap.
I know the eldest is an old client of Todd’s. Though Todd and I have successfully merged our office into sports law, Jones Jackson is still a client. Money talks, and this relationship is proof of that. Every other client of Todd’s has been referred to lawyers across the city.
I will be happy when this banquet is over so I can go home. After listening to Todd and Jones discussing the differences between bourbon and scotch, for ten minutes, I sneak outside.
The air is chilly against my shoulders, and I rest against a pillar in the courtyard of the golf club. This is probably the most peaceful spot of the event, with only smokers hanging around.
I haven’t smoked since I found out I was pregnant with the baby. It’s been six months since the accident, and I haven’t had one urge to smoke, until now. Being here when I would rather be in bed, left to mourn, puts me on edge. There is too much energy used in smiling and pretending to be happy with clients. I suck it up, because this is what I wanted after all. This is what being a lawyer entails. Sucking up to rich folk and begging them for their business.
Leaning my head back against the pillar, I close my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “I should have brought a pack of smokes.”
“Me too.” The voice catches me off guard, mostly because it’s right next to me.
I open my eyes and turn my head to the voice. The youngest Jackson is smiling at me, and I realize that my need for a cigarette was verbalized. I can’t remember this guy’s name, and I honestly don’t even try to.
Baby Jackson has slicked back black hair and smoldering hazel eyes. He stuffs his hands into the front pockets of charcoal suit pants. His cheeks blaze, and I suspect he finds me attractive.
If only there was a person hiding in the shell of this body, I’d flirt with him. “You smoke?” I ask, pushing off the pillar.
“Oh, I smoke,” he laughs. “Not cigarettes, though.”
“Ahh.” I step closer to him. “So, what brings you outside? Not having fun with everyone?”
His hand covers his mouth, and he clears his throat, then scratches his eyebrow nervously. “I followed you. You seemed… sad. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Now, I see that you’re not. Everything okay?”
“It’s nothing.” I give him a fake smile, trying to ward him off.
“Nothing caused the sadness in those eyes? You seem upset about something. I’m a stranger. What could it hurt to vent?”
“Okay, stranger.” I run my fingers through my dark hair. “My boyfriend-well, my ex-boyfriend, I guess-dumped me, moved out of his apartment, and got a new phone number. That’s the epitome of ghosting a girl, right?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “That was a whole year ago, yet I still call the morgue to make sure his body hasn’t washed up somewhere. Like that’s even a possibility even though, when he dumped me, he made it clear I wasn’t the girl for him.”
“He’s probably got a wife and kids at home.” Jackson steps closer. “That would be the only reason a man ups and disappears like that. Who’d walk away from someone as gorgeous as you? I’m sorry that happened to you.”
The words are meant to make me feel better, but they’re laced with intent. I’m complaining about an ex, and he is trying to get in my pants. Typical man. At this point, I don’t even care. Maybe he can numb this feeling I have.
Why does everything get ripped from me?
I had a dad, and he is dead. I had a man I cared about, and he’s missing. I had a baby in my belly, and she’s gone. Hell, even Haley left for residency and was planning to join the Army. Who can blame her? She has it right. Runaway from the people who could hurt you.
It isn’t in me to be guarded, or to be alone. I thrive off the company of others, and being depressed fucks with that. I don’t have the energy to deal with people, and then that brings me into another spiral of more depression.
I decide to force myself to feel better. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson.” I use his last name in hopes he will tell me to call him by his first and then I won’t have to admit that I wasn’t paying attention when we were introduced inside.
“It’s Matt,” he says.
I take a moment to admire him. He is wearing a black tuxedo with a black bow tie, and his olive skin glistens in the light. I still see a pink hue on his cheeks, indicating he’s nervous.
“I’m Andi.” I force a smile. Fake it until you make it. The truth is, I want to be happy again, and what better way than to scratch an eleven-month-old itch? It may not take away the pain permanently, but at least, I can forget for a moment that I am supposed to be a mom.
“I’m starving,” I say. “Want to grab a burger with me?”
“You mean leave this bore-fest? Hell, yeah.”
I snicker and link my arm in his. “Todd is totally going to freak when he realizes I ducked out and left him to deal with this all alone.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m eating a burger in a diner with Matthew Jackson. Not caring how I look, I take a huge bite. Lettuce falls out of the opposite end, and I set it down to chew. He flashes me a smile and his eyes have been fixed on my face since we sat down.
