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How can a complete jerk like Kyle get a wedding like this—the love and more babies in his future—and I’m stuck. Even though I have an amazing guy, one who I really freaking like, that my daughter loves, a man who will wear a glittery plastic crown in a room packed full of people he doesn’t know simply to make her happy, and I can’t be with him because we‘work together.’
The kicker is, I can’t leave my job because the asshole who’s getting married—getting his happy ever after—is the one holding me to ransom every damn day.
Because I need the money.
Becausesaid asshole put me in fucking debt.
Typical.
A waiter walks past me, but I click my fingers to gain her attention, which makes everyone look at me again. I grab two glasses of champagne, sipping from one instantly and placing the other in front of me on the table.
Blake places his hand on my thigh. Somehow it comforts me for a moment, but then it sends another wave of anxiety through me. I wish I could take him out the back to the private garden and talk things out with him.
Or maybe not talk at all.
What I really want is to kiss the hell out of him.
Since he kissed me at the ceremony, I haven’t been able to wipe his lips from my mind.
That’s when this day absolutely started to unravel for me.
As I drink the last of the champagne, he leans in against my ear, the speeches continuing around us. Having all but tuned out, I am now focused on his warm breath against my ear. “You want to get out of here?”
I stop drinking and turn to face him, swallowing dramatically. My eyes meet his, my breathing quickens at his innuendo, and he chuckles. “C’mon, I think you need some air.”
Oh, right... because I’m drunk. Not because he wants to tackle me into the bushes and make out with me like I’m hoping.
Pull yourself together, Zoey.
You’re making a scene, just like Barbara predicted.
I glance around, seeing that bitch staring right at me, and I nod at Blake. “Yeah, some air would be good.”
Blake stands as the music for Kyle and Tamara’s first dance together starts. They walk out onto the dance floor while Blake places his hand out for me. I feel surprisingly steady on my feet—there’s a slight buzz, but it’s definitely there—considering I’ve had too much to drink. I need to calm my ass down.
Blake leads me outside into the private garden attached to the Tea Room. I have to admit it’s oh-so-romantic and incredibly beautiful. Tamara has amazing taste, and picking this place for her wedding was ideal. It’s extremely elegant, classy, and totally something I would love for my wedding one day.
Just not one to Blake, obviously.
Because we work together, I remind myself.
Fuck my life.
Clenching my eyes shut at the thought, I shake my head, which only makes me stumble a little in my semi-drunken state. “Shit!” I curse, opening my eyes as I think I’m going to fall over, but arms quickly wrap around me, holding me tight.
“I got you,” Blake states, holding me snugly against his body.
My hands slide up around his neck, my eyes locking on his, his iridescent amber eyes shining against the candlelight, making the flecks of gold so vibrant and beautiful that I feel lost in him. “Jesus, Blake,” I mumble more to myself than anything.
He doesn’t let me go, merely pulls me in tighter, if that’s possible. “Talk to me, Zoey. You’ve been weird all evening. Are you upset Kyle is married? Is that what’s happening here?”
I scrunch my brows and go to push away from him, but he holds me tighter, refusing to let me go. “No, God, no. I don’t give a shit about Kyle.”
“What then? Because I’m getting so many mixed signals, it’s doing my damn head in.”
Slumping, I stop fighting and simply let him hold me. “What about tomorrow?”
“What about tomorrow?” His brows crease, and he stares at me in confusion.
