Jessica stood behind Brooke and Marc, and belatedly realized her mistake in positioning herself so close to the bride and groom when Ryan's gaze subtly shifted to her. A frisson of awareness shot through her, and her insides began to tremble.
He didn't look away, and she couldn't either. "I've only been in love once, but I understand how powerful that emotion can be. I also know that there are times when love can be painful and trying, so I'd like to say a few things for you to keep in mind for the years ahead. Love without fear. Trust without questioning. Accept without change, and desire each other without inhibitions. Always believe in one another, and always have faith." He raised his flute of champagne to the happy couple, and everyone followed his lead. "Here's to love and laughter, and your happily ever after."
"Hear, hear," the guests echoed jovially, and Jessica was hardly aware of someone next to her clinking their glass against hers as she watched Marc kiss her sister with the kind of the love and tenderness Ryan had shown her.
Emotions clamored in her chest, her mind spun, and she struggled to keep herself grounded. Tears tightened her throat and burned the back of her eyes. Though Ryan's toast was for Brooke and Marc, the profound words beckoned to her, and made her realize what she'd never, ever have in her life-love, laughter, and her own happily ever after.
"Hey, everybody," someone in the room called out. "It's the countdown tomidnight!"
The guests began counting down from ten, until finally the old year rolled into the new one and everyone cheered, hugged, and wished one another a happy new year.
Unable to participate in the ritual when she had absolutely nothing to celebrate, Jessica slipped from the room as inconspicuously as possible, taking her heartache with her.
Brooke found her in the downstairs study minutes later. Jessica barely had time to swipe the tears from her cheeks before her sister laid into her.
"Iknew something was going on between you and Ryan. He might have made that toast to Marc and me, but he was looking atyou, Jessica." Brooke crossed her arms over her chest, exerting her big-sister presence. "Out with it," she demanded.
Jessica didn't bother to pretend she didn't know what Brooke was referring to. This time, she let the floodgates open and told her sister about the past month with Ryan, how she'd seen such a different side to him than she'd always believed, how she'd fallen in love with him, and ultimately, how she doubted her ability to trust in him because of her fears.
Brooke grabbed her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Ah, Jess, sometimes following your heart is one of the most difficult things you'll ever do."
"But what if-"
Brooke shook her head, cutting off her sister's argument. "There are no 'what ifs' when you're in love. It just is. And despite what you might believe, not every man is like Dad."
"You know," she breathed, not at all surprised that her sister understood her so well.
"Yeah, I know that his leaving devastated you and made you feel insecure about so many things. I know our life was tough, but we made it just fine, Jess." Brooke smiled, and brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek."You made it just fine. And I don't want to see you lose the best thing that has ever come into your life because you're afraid of trusting your true instincts."
She moved away from her sister and glanced at the hardbound books tucked in an oak bookshelf, unable to relinquish deeper insecurities. "What if I want more from Ryan than he can give me?"
"How do you know what he's capable of giving unless you give him a chance?" she countered.
And that meant trusting Ryan to put her first, and on those occasions when he couldn't because of the demands of his career, trusting herself to be strong enough to believe he'd always be there for her. To have faith that he'd find that balance.
"I don't think you'll ever forgive Dad for what he did to the family," Brooke said softly from behind her. "But don't let him sabotage your chance to be happy and possibly have a family of your own."
With that, her sister left the room to return to the party, leaving Jessica to contemplate her past, the present, and the future. And as she let go of bitter, resentful memories, she discovered a fortitude she never realized she possessed. A strength born of love. And the courage to grasp the kind of happiness Brooke had found for herself.
The kind of happiness Jessica had denied herself for far too long.
It seemed like forever before everyone cleared out of Ryan's house and she was alone with him. She was exhausted, but determined to speak with him. And she was nervous. Oh, Lord, especially that. So much was at stake. So much was at risk. Her heart. Her body. Her soul.
The rest of her life.
He frowned when he saw her standing in the entryway all by herself, clearly not happy to find her still around. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, his tone flat and emotionless. "I thought you left when Brooke did."
"No, I only walked them out." Feeling her tenacity slip a serious notch, she blurted out her request before she lost her nerve. "Ryan… I'd like to talk to you."
He stared at her for a long, hard moment. "After this morning, I don't think there's anything left to say."
His reply startled her, rattling her composure and the carefully thought-out discussion she'd had planned. An awful sense of foreboding closed in on her like a vise around her chest. "What about…"Us. She nearly wept as the one word got tangled around those damnable insecurities of hers.
He jammed his hands on his hips, his expression impatient. "What about what?" he prompted gruffly.
She couldn't think straight. She needed time, time to gather her thoughts again. Her gaze swept the area, and she grasped the first excuse that came to mind. "What about the mess?"
Her offer to help only seemed to aggravate him more. "I have a cleaning crew coming in the morning, so go on home and don't worry about it." He paused for a moment, then said in a low, rough tone filled with too much emotion, "Goodbye, Jessica." With that, he turned and headed toward the kitchen.
She watched him go, her heart aching so fiercely she could hardly breathe. He didn't want her anymore. And she had no one to blame except herself.
All because she hadn't been able to bring herself to trust in Ryan and his love.
Ryan heard the front door open and close, and felt the finality of Jessica leaving right to the very depths of his soul. Bracing his hands on the kitchen counter, he squeezed his tired eyes shut and berated himself for being such an ass. The least he could have done was walk her to her car, but he hadn't been able to perform that simple gentlemanly task. It just hurt too damn much to be around her, and he hadn't wanted to stretch out their final goodbye.
All night he'd suffered with her being in his constant line of vision, of being wrapped in her scent when she happened to pass him. He'd tormented himself with private fantasies that included stripping off that sexy, silky blue dress she'd worn, fantasies of having her in his bed, his life.
And there, for a moment, he'd thought, hoped, that her reasons for wanting to stay behind had to do with them… not the mess.
Yeah, he was a mess all right, he thought with a disgusted snort. And he had no idea how he was going to get over loving and losing Jessica. One day at a time, he supposed.
A half an hour later, dead tired and weary to the bone, he locked up the house, turned off the lights, then dragged himself upstairs. By the time he'd reached his bedroom he had his shirt unbuttoned. Shrugging out of the garment, he tossed it over the end of his bed. He toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks and replaced his dress pants with a pair of sweat shorts.
He went to retrieve a T-shirt from his dresser, and that's when he caught sight of the pool of shimmering blue silk on the carpeted floor. His pulse raced as he followed a trail of silky stockings, a lacy black bra, and panties that led to the bathroom door, which had been left open a crack.
He pushed slowly against the door, and was greeted by the lush scent of strawberries, the flickering illumination of candlelight, and a woman lounging in his bathtub with a froth of bubbles coating the surface of the water. His gut clenched, with anxiety, and a hope so excruciating it nearly stole his breath.
Somehow, some way, he found his voice. "What are you doing here?"
Big blue eyes met his, and a tremulous smile touched her lips. "I'm attempting to prove a point."
Not sure where her scene for seduction was leading, he frowned down at her. "Excuse me?"
She drew a deep breath, and he watched in too much fascination as the bubbles quivered around the soft rise of her breasts. "You've shown me many times in the past month that actions speak louder than words. And since I was having trouble speaking downstairs, I thought I'd giveyour tactic a try to get your attention."
"You definitely have that." He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, unable to relax the tense muscles bunching across his shoulders. "I thought you left."
"I never left, Ryan," she said, her voice as soft as the shadows in the bathroom. And just as vulnerable. "When it came right down to walking out your door, I couldn't do it. And I'm not going to leave until we talk."
Remembering how his bruised pride had prompted him to tell her they had nothing left to say to each other, this time he couldn't refuse her, not after she'd found the fortitude within herself to stay.
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