Page 25 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

“How come? You’re wildly successful, you still look hot, you have a great kid.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks. That was a good pep talk. I needed it.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but he seemed sincere. “What’s it like, anyway?” he asked. “I’ve missed all my other reunions. This will be my first.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Really?”

She shrugged, determined not to get defensive about it. “I got mono right before our ten-year high school reunion, so I couldn’t make it to that.”

Okay, so it wasn’t entirely true, but Jack didn’t need to know the rest of the story.

That she’d been embarrassed about dropping out of law school, about breaking her engagement.

She’d expected to have kids and a brag-worthy career and a big house in the West Hills, but she hadn’t achieved any of that by the time her reunion came around. It had just seemed easier to skip it.

“Anyway,” she said, “I never bothered with the college reunions, either.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “Life just turned out differently than I expected.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Allie, people’s dreams change all the time.”

“Not mine,” she said, and the words came out sharper than she meant them to. “Anyway, there was also that whole business with my parents. I didn’t want to have to answer questions about it.”

“I guess I can understand that.” He glanced at the door, but made no move to reach for it.

“Jack.” She laid a hand on his arm. “We don’t have to go in there if you don’t want.”

“No, I want to.” He let out a long, ragged breath. “Of course, I might prefer shoving bamboo under my fingernails and soaking my hands in grapefruit juice.”

Allie giggled. “Or removing your eyelids with pliers?”

“Definitely preferable. Same with sticking a hot fork in my eye and twisting.”

“Oooh, ouch.” She studied his face, noticing some of the stiffness had started to leave his expression. “How about eating six jars of mayonnaise in one sitting?”

Jack laughed. “Using my toothbrush to clean litterboxes at your B&B.”

“Disgusting.” She grinned at him. “So just out of curiosity, why are you doing this?”

He sighed, seemed to be deciding something. “Does it make me a shallow jerk if I admit it’s because I want everyone to see I turned out well?”

“Nope.” She offered an encouraging smile. “You’re not a shallow jerk. I promise. That’s probably why most people are here.”

“What if I flat out say I kinda want to rub their noses in it?”

“Maybe a little bit of a shallow jerk.” She smiled. “It’s okay, though. Your secret’s safe with me.”

He nodded and gave her a look so full of gratitude she thought her heart might burst. “I guess that’s not the whole truth. Honestly, I just want to make sure I can do this.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Being around groups of people who knew Caroline—it used to be hard, especially right after she died. I haven’t done it much in the last ten years.”

“Oh, Jack—” Allie felt her eyes prick with tears, but she was at a loss for what to say.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s been almost ten years. It’s not like I’m still in the depths of grief or anything. It’s just—this is sort of a test, I guess. To make sure I can handle it.”

“I believe in you,” she said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can to do make it easier.”

He grinned. “You already are. You’re here with me.” Jack took a deep breath and reached for the door again. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He gestured for her to go ahead of him, so Allie walked through first. The foyer was empty, but Allie could hear the thud of bass so loud she felt it in her head.

They followed the sound down a dim corridor, moving together toward the pulsing music.

As they reached a doorway, Jack seemed to hesitate.

“You’ve got this,” Allie said.

“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he moved forward anyway.

They stepped into a dimly lit room packed tight with bodies and the smell of red wine and nervous energy. She felt Jack stiffen beside her, but he was surveying the room, getting the lay of the land.

The space was dotted with tall bistro tables draped with black tablecloths and a single purple iris in a silver vase at the center of each.

A bar on the left side of the room already contained a cluster of people laughing a little too loudly.

On the other side of the room stood a buffet table adorned with silver trays offering mushroom caps, crudités, charcuterie, fancy little pastries filled with something that looked like salmon mousse.

Jack started toward the food, but Allie reached out and touched his elbow. “Three o’clock,” she murmured, nodding in that direction. “Someone’s heading this way.”

“Shit,” Jack murmured as the guy drew closer. “I can’t remember his name. Brock or Brent or Brett or?—”

“Jack, my man! Good to see you again.” The guy did one of those fancy handshakes only men seemed to know. Some sort of handclasp melded with a shoulder clap and a chest bump. Allie stood back and hoped the guy didn’t notice how forced Jack’s smile looked.

“Good to see you ... uh, man,” Jack offered. He looked like he needed a lifeline, so Allie threw him one.

“Hi there,” she said, reaching out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Allison.”

The guy grinned and pumped Allie’s hand. “Bryce. Great to meet you.”

“You, too, Bryce.”

He turned back to Jack, and his expression changed. So did his tone, switching to a timbre that reminded Allie of a late-night DJ counseling a caller on his marital woes. “Listen, I heard about what happened. I just want to say?—”

“Wow, are those Swedish meatballs?”

Allie blinked, then followed Jack’s gaze to the buffet table. She looked back at him, perplexed, but willing to play along.

“Yes,” she said, barely missing a beat. “I think they are. Would you like me to get you some?”

“Actually, I’ll go with you.” His voice was tight and a little too fast. “I want a lot of them. Bryce—it was great seeing you again. I hope you don’t mind if I?—”

“No, of course,” he said, clapping Jack on the back again. “We’ll talk later. I don’t want to stand between a man and his meat.”

He wandered away, blending back into the crowd. Allie turned to Jack. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get those meatballs.”

They’d taken three steps toward the buffet table when a trio of women approached.

The instant they spotted Jack, the one dressed in a silver-sequined gown let out a soft gasp and put her hand over her heart.

The other two tilted their heads to the side and gave identical sympathetic head shakes, looking like well-coiffed parrots.

One wore a bright red gown and the other a strappy little number in purple chiffon.

One of the two—whose face seemed frozen by astonishment or Botox—marched forward with such purpose that Allie had to step out of the way to avoid being trampled under the strappy, bloodred Jimmy Choos that matched her dress.

“Jack Carpenter,” she said in a voice that reminded Allie of an audition for the dramatic lead in a high school play. “We were wondering if you’d be here. How are you, honey?”

The woman in purple chiffon was still doing the sympathetic headshake, but Silver Sequins dropped her hand from her heart and put it on Jack’s arm. “We were so sorry to hear about Caroline. How awful that must have been for you.”

“And you have a little girl, too,” Purple Chiffon added, making a sympathetic tsk noise that showed a flash of crimson lipstick on her teeth. “If there’s anything you need—anything at all?—”

“Uh, thanks,” Jack said, shooting Allie an imploring look.

She tried to read his mind, not sure if he wanted her to introduce herself or fade into the crowd.

She watched as Jack reached up to scratch his chin, and she tried to remember which cue that was.

Friend or girlfriend? God, why hadn’t they spent more time nailing down the body language?

He seemed to be wrestling with the same question, then reached a conclusion. She watched as his hand dropped to his waist, then slid down for a subtle crotch-grab.

She stifled the urge to laugh as she stepped closer to Jack. A look of intense relief crossed his face, and he put his arm around her shoulders like it belonged there.

“Hi, I’m Allie,” she said. “Jack’s girlfriend?”

The three women stared at her. Silver Sequins blinked hard, making her lashes stick together like a pair of mating spiders.

“Oh,” murmured the one with lipstick on her teeth. “Well, my. That’s—that’s wonderful.”

“Absolutely lovely,” Botox added. “I’ve been so worried imagining you all alone, a grieving widower.”

“I thought of you when I read Vivienne Brandt’s book— But Not Broken ?” Silver Sequins fluttered her lashes as though fighting back tears. “She talked about love and loss and grief and?—”

“Uh?” Jack shot Allie a pleading look.

“Dr. Viv’s work is wonderful, isn’t it?” Allie had read But Not Broken, just like every other red-blooded American female.

As far as she remembered, it focused on escaping spousal abuse, rather than facing the loss of a spouse.

But hey, this was a chance for a subject change.

“I especially liked the newer book Dr. Viv wrote with her husband?—”

“Jack, I’ve just been so worried about you.” That was Botox again. “It must be so difficult for you.”

“Nope, I’m doing great!” Jack said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Business is booming, I’ve launched my own app development firm.”

“And your little girl?”

“Paige is great.” Jack shot Allie a look she couldn’t quite read. For lack of anything better to do, she put her hand on Jack’s ass. Might as well get something out of playing the role. He looked down at her and gave a smile that looked shaky, but genuine.

“Yeah, Paige is ten now,” he continued, sounding more steady. “Doing well in school, and she grew two inches in the last six months.”