Page 77 of Kissing for Keeps
“That must’ve been one heck of a kiss,” Jill says.
“It was,” Madi confirms.
“Did you know immediately, then?” Jill asks, hungry for more.
“What, that I’d marry him? No. But it was… different.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “Justbeingwith Rémy felt different.”
I try to keep the smile on my face, but my mind is with Jack. Those kisses have been different. Maybe even break-an-elevator different.
“I think we need to hear thewholestory,” Tori says, adjusting the settings on her chair and leaning her head back, eyes closed. “Beginning to end.”
All of us nod, even though I already know it.
“Siena should tell it,” Madi says. “She’s the reason there’s even a story to tell.” I shake my head. “She saw Rémy’s value before I did. She sent me money, so I didn’t starve on the streets of Paris. She encouraged me to just enjoy myself with him instead of forcing myself to wallow in my breakup with Josh.” She looks at me in a way that makes my eyes sting, then reaches her hand over for mine. “I owe it all to you, including this perfect, amazing wedding week.”
I shake my head, guilt threatening to swallow me whole. If ever there had been a thought of confessing things to Madi or of really pursuing things with Jack, it’s gone now.
I want to be the best friend Madi thinks I am—the best friend she deserves.
27
JACK
It’s11:30 at night, and I’ve put a load in the chateau’s paid washing machines, shot off four emails, looked at and solved an app issue, and polished off the final strawberries despite not being hungry.
Siena’s still not home, and my nervous energy is driving me crazy. I check my phone for the tenth time since I got back from the bachelor party—a new personal record—but there’s nothing from her there, either. Not like I really expected there to be, but the disappointment is palpable despite that.
I’m sitting on the table, swinging my legs and trying to decide whether I should go for a forbidden swim or give it up and go to sleep when the sound of tires on gravel meets my ears. I perk up like a dog whose owner is getting home from work.
Car doors shut, followed by muted conversation and laughter, then muffled goodnights. The crunch of footsteps approaching the door comes next, and my heart rate shoots up like a bottle rocket.
I should probably pretend to be busy doing something, but the door opens before I can think of anything believable.
Siena stops short at the sight of me. Her hair is pulled up high on her head, but the lower quarter doesn’t reach the tie. She’s got no makeup on, and she’s wearing sweats.
“You’re back already?” she asks.
“Medieval tournaments go more quickly than you might think.”
She steps inside, slipping off her shoes. “Did you have fun? Did Rémy enjoy it?”
“Yes, and yes. At least, the amount of laughter points to that.” I leave out the part about her brother and me fighting over her honor. “What about you?”
“It was great! Just the usual spa night and girl talk.”
Girl talk.Those two mysterious words have me on edge, but for no good reason. I wouldn’t have come up in that conversation, and even if I had, I don’t think I’d want to know what was said.
Siena pulls out the tie holding her hair up and brushes the stray pieces near her neck toward the ponytail, using her fingers. They all fall where they were before, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Or notice.
“Speaking of girl talk,” I say, heartbeat pushing a thousand beats per minute, “can I talk to you for a sec?”
She turns toward me, her brows pinching together. “Sure. What’s up?”
Such a casual way of asking me to bring up a not-at-all casual topic. But I’ve got to do this. You’d think that, after all the time I spent waiting for her to get here, I’d have rehearsed a good way to say this.
Nope. I’m winging it.
I take a second, trying to decide how to lead into what I want to say, and Siena’s brows pull tighter together.
