Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(68)

I recognized them from a relatively famous band that toured around the DC area. They hadn’t made it big, but for the crowd I’d once run with, they were the popular band to have perform at your wedding.

The lead singer welcomed Sam and her husband to the floor for their first dance.

Every eye was on them as they spun around the floor.

I studied Sam, waiting for that familiar heartache and resentment to flood my veins. Instead, more nothing.

It should have felt different, seeing her again after all this time. How many years had I spent fixated on that woman? How many hours had I dwelled on the past? Countless. Every one of them pointless.

Something unlocked in my chest. Something that felt a lot like . . . freedom. Relief.

This wedding had been a test. A chance for me to see if I was still that man from a decade ago.

I wasn’t.

And I wasn’t the man Samantha thought she knew. Not anymore.

Done. I was done with Sam. It wouldn’t be hard to ignore that next phone call. My attention swung from the dance floor to my parents. I was done with them too.

Having loving, attentive parents hadn’t been in the cards I’d been dealt. Like seeing Sam, maybe that should have bothered me. But tonight, I just didn’t fucking care.

The only person in this room deserving of my affection was in a lavender dress.

“You okay?” Eloise whispered.

Yeah, I was okay. Better than. I kissed her forehead. “Yes.”

The first dance ended and the energy in the ballroom shifted as the lead singer welcomed others to the floor. The event staff came flooding through the doors, carrying replenished trays of cocktails and wineglasses. Others had snacks they’d likely be passing out until the party died.

My father stood from his chair, holding out a hand to help my mother to her feet. Then he escorted her to the dance floor, twirling her in his arms.

“Do they love each other?” Eloise asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

She scoffed. “Then that only makes it worse. I really, really hate them.”

I chuckled, kissing her forehead again. “You don’t have to hate them.”

“Too late.”

Fierce loyalty. A precious heart. My Eloise. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

She narrowed her eyes at mine. “Promise you’re okay?”

“Promise.”

Her hand lifted, her fingertips threading through the hair at my temples. “Don’t cut your hair until . . . later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Later. She was still expecting me to leave, but soon enough, she’d realize she could dictate all my trips to the barber. Hell, she could cut it herself if she wanted.

She propped her chin on my shoulder, her gaze drifting outside. “The rooftop garden has to have twinkle lights.”

“Agreed.”

I relaxed deeper into my chair, content to act as Eloise’s. Then I watched my parents dance for a few moments until a familiar gaze snared me from across the room.

Samantha stared at me from her seat at the head table. She held a glass of champagne in one hand. The other was in her husband’s.

That guy had been a prick in high school. Hell, we’d all been that way, hadn’t we? He’d been at the same parties. More often than not, he’d been the guy to bring the cocaine.

At the moment, he was leaned in close, talking to the bridesmaid at his side, one of Sam’s sorority sisters.

From the way they spoke, too close and too intimately for friends, I suspected that Sam had gotten everything she’d wanted: a rich husband who didn’t give a damn if she slept with someone else. He’d be partaking in that open relationship. Because before this trip was over, I’d bet my inheritance he’d be fucking that bridesmaid.

More relief washed over my shoulders. That used to be my life. That used to be my reality. Thank fuck, I’d escaped.

If not for Dan, maybe I would have stayed. If not for Foster, maybe I would have returned.

If not for Eloise, I wouldn’t have even known what I’d been missing.

“I have to pee.” She groaned, sitting straight. “But I don’t want to risk a bathroom run-in.”

“What’s a bathroom run-in?”

“You know, where I go to the bathroom and while I’m in the stall, these other women, probably your ex or her bridesmaids, come in and I overhear them saying something nasty about my dress or my hair.”

“What could anyone possibly say about your dress or your hair?” She was the most breathtaking woman in the room, more stunning than even the bride.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Girls are mean. But I also don’t want to bump into your ex at the sink so she can tell me while we’re washing our hands that you’ll never love anyone the way you loved her and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It happened to my friend at junior prom. Drama with a capital d.”

The corner of my mouth turned up. “A bathroom run-in. Best to avoid those.”

“Exactly.”

That sensation I’d had at The Eloise before we’d left Montana hit me again. Those roots kept tugging. I’d thought they had something to do with Montana, with my growing connection to Quincy. But it had always been her.

“What?” She cocked her head to the side. “You’re looking at me funny. I’m drunk and talking too much, huh?”