Page 122 of June: Jess' Story

I shake my head with a smile. “Not in the slightest.” I run my hand up his neck and thread my fingers into his hair. “You’re my person,” I whisper, then lean in for a kiss that he meets me halfway for. And Damianismy person. It’s never a struggle. It’s never a game. His love doesn’t hurt.Ourlove isn’t based on pain.

“Good.” And then his hand finds my leg under the table, squeezing me for reassurance.

We eat dinner all together at one long table, but before the cake is served, there’s a clinking glass and my best friend is standing.Oh, lord.

“Friends, children.” Brit gets everyone’s attention. “I know this might be a bit unconventional to have an ex-spouse give a wedding toast, but I think that speaks volumes about these two people right here. They are my twoverybest friends, who deserveallthe happiness,together.

If I go on for too long, I know I’ll start crying, so I’ll keep it really short. Congratulations, you two.” She raises her champagne flute. “BUT!I’d be remiss to not also thank my brother, Alex. For introducing the two of you. So, to Alex, too!” And she raises her glass again.

The sound of a cracking champagne flute startles the table. We all turn towards the sound to see Alex with a bloodied hand cut by a broken glass.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and scoots his chair back from the table to stand. Then, without ceremony, he gets up and leaves. I hate to admit how my stomach sinks for him. I try not to acknowledge the feelings that are still there, but sometimes, they rear their ugly heads. Like right now, when I have to fight the urge to go to him.

And I do.

“Well, cheers!” Brit says awkwardly, and everyone devolves into clinking glasses and drinking, just as quickly forgetting about the broken glass. (And broken man.)

I smile at my husband and he smiles at me, and we both cheers ourselves.

“Someone was feeling petty today, weren’t they?” I sidle up next to Brit once everyone disperses after the cake.

“Maybe I’m still salty about it…” Brit says, sipping at her tequila on the rocks slowly. “I mean, there’s a reason my son’s name is Constantine Alexander and not Alexander Constantine…”

“Have you checked on him?” I ask her.

“Nope, and I won’t. He’s being a baby. He’sbeena baby.” I don’t disagree.

“Well, I think I’m ready for a potty break. Need to go?” I ask her, but she declines.

I let Damian know where I’m heading, and then I slip out of the private dining room and head for the restrooms. My silky white gown flows behind me and I smile because today was perfect. It was the perfect amount of everything. Nothing overdone, nothing underwhelming. It was just right. Just like Damian.

When I exit the bathroom, my stomach plummets because he’s waiting there for me. The hair on the back of my neck raises and my heart starts beating faster.

Danger danger.Every instinct in my body is chiming with red flags, and blowing horns, and storm sirens.Abort. The mission is clear:abort.

“Excuse me,” I say to walk around him, but he doesn’t move.

“It was supposed to be us, Jess,” he says solemnly.

And I laugh, almost viciously. “No, thank you to whateverthisis. You have a beautiful wife waiting for you. Go home, Alex.”

“Okay,” he says, then he moves in and kisses me. For the briefest of moments, I let him in. Like a muscle memory, my body overpowers my mind and I start to return whatever this is that’s happening.No. No. Hate this.

I push him off as someone pulls him off.

“What the fuck?!” Damian is there, yelling at him.Or is he yelling at me? No. I don’t know and I hate that most.

“Damian, I told him to go home.” I tell him, willing him to believe me. He doesn’t acknowledge me, he just unbuttons and pushes his sleeves up, then takes a swing at Alex. And Alex lets Damian make the hit. The fist connects with eye socket and the crack and pop are loud in the small hallway.

“Damian?” I ask when he’s just standing there, frozen and fuming.

“Did you kiss him back?” he asks with an edge to his voice that still never touches unkindness. I’m shaking my head, though, immediately.

“No! God no! I was pushing him away!”

“Okay.”Okay?

“Just okay?” I ask, hopeful. Feeling desperate for him to believe me.