And this time when I faced the room, I was met with a pair of jealous hazel eyes.
Maybe she was beautiful.
But my blue eyes were jewels compared to her muddy irises.
My cheeks were beginning to hurt from this saccharine smile, but I didn’t falter as I met her icy glare.
Fuck you too, Samantha.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JASPER
Over the course of two hours, Eloise had shifted in her chair. Gone was her perfect posture aimed at her place setting. Now she was sitting sideways, one of her legs tucked under her rear while the other was draped across my lap. Inch by inch, she’d effectively blocked out my father, seated on her other side, to give me her undivided attention. She was close to crawling into my lap.
And the best damn part? I doubted she even realized she’d done it.
Through the first course, she’d faced her plate, eating and sipping her champagne, listening to the conversation at the table while everyone in the room had taken their seats.
When Mom and Dad had begun talking politics with the others at our table, Eloise had made her first shift. It had been just a little turn, her knee pressed tight against my own.
During the main course, she’d crossed her legs and her calf had brushed against my shin.
Through the toasts, she’d twisted further, her torso perpendicular to the back of the chair, her eyes locked on me instead of the head table.
After another flute of champagne, she’d tucked that leg into the seat while the other draped across my thighs.
My thumb traced circles on the inside of her knee as I listened to her chatter.
The Eloise who’d captivated me in Vegas, the woman who voiced whatever thought was in her head, had reappeared. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips pink. She was breathtaking. The most beautiful woman in the room—in any room.
“I wish we had an outdoor space for weddings at the hotel.” Her eyes shifted over my shoulder toward the archway and terraces at my back.
Darkness had fallen outside, the gardens now lit with twinkling lights. It was too noisy in the ballroom to hear the ocean waves, but tonight, we’d sleep with the balcony doors open to enjoy the sound.
“Maybe we could turn the roof into a garden,” she said. “I’m putting that on my wish list right above the fountain.”
“You want a fountain?” I asked.
“Yep. But not as much as I want a rooftop garden.”
I grinned, drowning in those sparkling blue eyes. If she wanted a rooftop garden, then she’d have a rooftop garden.
She tried to shift again, to move closer, but she was as close as she could get while staying in her own chair.
So I fixed the problem for her. With a quick lift beneath her ribs, I pulled her off her own seat and plopped her onto my lap.
She smiled, like she’d been waiting for me to do that all night.
One of the other table guests, a woman with spiked gray hair, shot us a sideways glance.
Eloise gave the woman a finger wave and a blinding smile. She might as well have flipped her off.
I fought a laugh, reaching for my champagne flute.
That woman was the only one to have paid us any attention since the cake had been cut. My parents were locked in conversation with another couple, and as much as Eloise had shifted, blocking out Dad, well . . . he’d done the same to her.
I doubted he’d done it intentionally either. He just didn’t care.
So much for my parents getting to know my wife.
It had gone exactly as I’d anticipated. There’d only been one shock to my system tonight—seeing Sam.
I’d expected to feel something. Anything. Pain from old wounds. Envy at seeing her with a new husband. Longing for what we’d once been.
Nothing. Not a damn thing. She might as well have been a stranger. It was . . .odd. Though not nearly as odd as the fact that I was actually enjoying this party.
Thanks solely to the angel in my arms.
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
“No.”
“I am.” She blew out a long breath. “Just a little bit.”
“Really,” I deadpanned. “I had no idea.”
She rolled her eyes.
I chuckled and kissed her cheek, then lifted my glass. “Want more champagne?”
“No, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. Can we do a helicopter tour?”
“Yes.”
“Or should we do a boat tour?”
“Whatever you want.”
“But what do you want?”
You. Just you. “Helicopter.”
“Okay, good.” She beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
We were spending another day in Italy before we flew home on Monday. I regretted planning such a short trip now. Watching her soak in the sights, watching her stunning smile as she took it all in, was like seeing the world from a new pair of eyes.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the lead singer said into the microphone. The string quartet that had played through dinner had since packed up their instruments and left. In their place was a live band—three guitarists and a drummer.
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?”