Page 52 of Married As Puck
I stay beside her, but my mind isn’t here. It’s across the room, locked on the enemy.
I can feel Brie glance at me between polite responses, probably noting the way my posture is still uptight. I know I should let it go, for her sake if not mine but I can’t help it. His presence is like an itch I can’t scratch.
A waiter offers me a drink. I take it down in one gulp. It doesn’t help.
My gaze goes back to Jack, and sure enough, his head turns. For half a second, our eyes meet across the room and his smile widens like he has won a lottery.
Brie touches my wrist lightly, “Cameron,” she whispers under her breath, “you promised.”
“I don’t make promises,” I mutter, but I unclench my jaw.
She squeezes my wrist once before letting go, turning back to her conversation partner.
I exhale slowly, trying to focus on the sound of her voice instead of the roaring in my head.
We move to the dining area where long tables have been decorated and set for the guests. Brie’s seat is beside mine, of course. She slips into it gracefully.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” she murmurs, leaning just close enough.
“I would,” I admit.
“Too bad,” she says lightly, picking up her fork. “We’re here.”
I glance at her, studying the way her lashes lower as she takes a sip of water. She’s calm and collected. She’s right. If I let him get to me, Jack wins. And I don’t lose, especially not to him.
Still, my eyes scan the room, searching for him. He’s seated too, charming some poor woman at his table, blue eyes glinting with mischief. I grip the stem of my glass too tightly.
“Brie.”
She tilts her head, waiting.
“Stay close to me tonight.”
Her brows lift slightly. “I was planning to.”
“No.” My voice drops lower, “I mean it. Don’t wander.”
She studies me for a minute, then sighs softly. “Okay.”
The dinner goes by in a blue of voices rising in that fake polite chorus of laughter and compliments that mean nothing. I tune most of it out, chewing mechanically, nodding when I have to, but my eyes keep moving, restless, scanning the room for the thing I know is coming because there’s always a catch with Jack.
My eyes narrow on his chair which is now empty. He must have slipped away from his table when no one noticed. They’re too busy with their wine glasses and their empty chatter.
I catch sight of him at the far end of the hall, near the stage where the orchestra’s tucked away. He bends slightly, almost casually, hand trailing the base of one of the stage props. To anyone else it looks harmless, maybe admiring the setup but no. His movements are too suspicious. I watch his fingers fiddle with something, but I can’t make out what it is from where I’m seated.
My stomach churns. What the hell is he doing?
I lean forward, pretending to grab bread, watching through lowered lashes. The bastard straightens, fixes his jacket, flashes a smile like he’s just stretching his legs. Nobody pays attention but I saw it.
Brie’s voice reaches my ears. “You’re stiff again,” she mutters without looking up from her plate.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumble, already pushing my chair back.
She frowns at me, “Don’t be too long though.”
I move through the crowd, weaving between tables with my heart pounding. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he was just having a look at it, maybe I imagined the movement of his hand. But no. I know what I saw.
The bathroom is silent. My reflection stares back at me in the mirror, eyes troubled, veins standing out in my neck.
