Naked Love(81)

I turn back to her.

She shrugs. “You were the lucky one who inherited Mom’s natural beauty. If Jake’s the one who helped you see that, then maybe we don’t hate him.”

No. Way.

I’m not giving that asshat credit for anything. “We hate him. That’s the law today. Got it?” I grab my purse and fish out my makeup bag.

“Um …”

“Sydney…” I pin her with a firm look “…we hate him. You asked. I’ve confirmed it. Now go inside and get the hate vibe going. I’ll be in as soon as I fix my face.”

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “O … K …” She mouths while easing out of the vehicle.

I unzip my makeup bag and get to work. By the time Ocean knocks on the window, a good twenty minutes later, I’m satisfied with my transformation.

“Hey, girly girl. Did they start without me?” I hop out, making sure I don’t rub up against the vehicle in my white pants and black, sleeveless blouse.

“Not yet, but everyone is waiting for you.”

I follow her into the church, blinking my right eye several times and pressing my extensions back into place. I think the adhesive went to shit on the trip. Probably too many days in the hot truck. They’re not my favorite fake lashes, but they work in a pinch. Just barely …

“Hey.” Sydney smiles, waiting for me just outside of the sanctuary. “I see you did a little more than fix your makeup.”

I smile through my dark red lips.

“It’s on your teeth.” Sydney’s nose wrinkles.

I rub my finger over my teeth. “Better?”

“Sure. You uh … went extra smoky with your eyes. Interesting choice for a wedding rehearsal at a church.” She loops her arm around mine and guides me into the church.

“It’s past five. Evening makeup is always darker.”

“Well, you definitely nailed it.”

I pinch her arm. She chuckles as the rest of the family gathered in the front pews turns toward us.

My eyes keep laser focus on Asher, my nephew, because he’s not Jake, and he’s the only family member who’s not giving me the WTF-did-you-do-to-your-face look. It’s not that I look bad. I followed proper makeup application rules. I just went a little heavier—a little darker. It’s the look I’d wear with a black teddy, garters, thigh-high hose, and stilettos while touching myself at the foot of a four-poster bed. OR … an evening wedding rehearsal for my father and his younger bride-to-be. It really is a versatile look.

“Good, everyone is here. Let’s get started,” the minister says.

Sydney and I sit in the front row next to Ocean. Through my peripheral vision, I caught a blurry glimpse of Jake before I sat down, so I know he’s right behind us. I know he’s got some sort of product making his hair look fuckable—Pot. Kettle. Black.

I know he’s wearing a sharp blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show off his ink. It’s possible I stole more than just a glimpse, but I definitely didn’t make eye contact with him.

The minister chats it up a bit about how he knows my dad. Then he gives a brief summary of the ceremony before we do an actual test run.

One groomsman.

Two bridesmaids.

I’m such a third wheel.

Luckily, my uncooperative eyelashes make it easy to keep my gaze at my feet the whole time as I dab my watery eye and keep pushing the lashes back into place. I manage to survive the forty-five minutes without making eye contact with Jake—or anyone else for that matter.

“Avery.” Lautner smirks, holding open my door as we load up to head to the rehearsal dinner.

“Shut it.” I scowl.

He chuckles.

On the way to dinner, I replace my bad extension with a new one and fix my smeared eye makeup.

When we arrive, I chat with anyone who is not near Jake as we wait a few minutes for our reserved table to be ready.

“Avery, sit next to me!” Ocean calls as everyone files into the private dining room.

I smile at her until I notice my dad has already taken the seat to her left, which means if I sit by her, it will be on her right—in the chair next to Jake.

“Avery, take my seat.” My dad starts to stand. But if he moves, he won’t be sitting next to Deedy. And the fact that he’s offering must mean Deedy or Sydney gave him the whole scoop on Jake.

“No. You stay.” I smile and take the seat next to Ocean, scooting my chair as close to hers as possible.

“Before we eat, I’d like to pray.” Dad holds out his hands. Deedy takes one, and Ocean takes his other hand as everyone else joins hands.

“Hold his hand.” Ocean nudges me, peeking open one eye.

Jake opens his hand, palm up on the table. I move my hand above his in a hover mode, jerking it back a fraction when one of our fingertips actually touch.

“Avery …” Ocean grits my name through her teeth. “Hold it.”

Freaking hand-holding police.

Before I can make up some excuse to leave the table during prayer, Jake grabs my hand, holding it hard like he’s pissed off about something. While my dad gives thanks for the food, his family, Deedy, and the many years we had Swarley in our lives, I completely chew Jake’s ass up one side and down the other—in my head.

Don’t hold my hand so damn hard. YOU have nothing to be upset about. I was your sex toy. Your experiment. Your punching bag. I gave you everything I had to give. I bared everything right down to my soul and my ugliest secrets. You … you stupid asshole! You gave me nothing! NOTHING! So stop holding my hand so fucking tight!