I pull her along and feel his eyes on us—okay, so I’m not entirely unaware of him. How could I be? I don’t possess the same on/off switch he so clearly does. I ignore the fact it only emphasises the difference between us, that I care when he so obviously doesn’t, and focus on giving my hips just the right amount of sway, the right amount of confident cheek, and enjoy the burn of what I bet he wishes was X-ray vision.
‘You want to tell me what that was all about?’ she says as we slip onto a couple of bar stools and I wave down Bates.
‘What was what about?’ I grin at the approaching barman. ‘Two cocktails with a festive twist, pretty please.’
Bates chuckles. ‘You’ve not been in here for months and you’re already veering off menu and making demands?’
‘I know, the cheek, hey?’ I give him a wink which he laps up and Coco shakes her head.
‘You’re trouble, Cait.’
‘Just what I was thinking.’
Shit. It’s Jackson. He’s right behind me. And, oh, God, my body thrums with the energy of it, of him.
No. I refuse to be affected, bothered, or in any way forced off course. Tonight I am going to tease him with my presence if it kills me, and I’m going to make sure he knows I’m back to being off-limits. Only this time it’s because I say so. Not him.
‘You’re not invited to this little party, matey—off you go.’ I shoo him away and he lifts one brow, his eyes moving to Coco, who gives a helpless shrug.
‘It’s like that, is it?’
‘Yup, girls only,’ I answer before Coco can, my attention shifting back to Bates behind the bar as I hook my heels into the stool’s footrest and lean over, presenting my bottom with a hint of cheek and suspender straps to Jackson. ‘So then Bates, what’s it gonna be?’
Bates sends a look over my head and I know he’s assessing Jackson’s face, which I imagine looks something along the lines of murderous.
‘Whatever the lady wants...’ Jackson murmurs low and my grin widens.
‘That’s my boy.’ I don’t turn, I don’t show him any gratitude, and I know I’ve just sent Coco’s curiosity through the roof, but it was worth it. This is fun. Serious wind-up fun. And it beats the way I’ve felt these past four months avoiding him.
I just have to keep it up and Jackson will be suitably frustrated and, I hope, pissed off. As pissed off as I was when he had the audacity to virtually blank me after that night.
‘Two Christmas mojitos coming up, ladies.’
‘Perfect! Ain’t that right, Mrs C?’
‘Jesus, Cait, you need to stop calling me Mrs C. It makes me feel ancient.’
‘Nonsense, tonight you are Mrs Claus and I am your very naughty elf.’
Okay, so yeah, I do enunciate the last three words and send the retreating Jackson a look over my shoulder, watch him falter mid-stride and give the smallest shake of his head before picking up his pace again. Bullseye.
‘Right, Cait, drop the act and spill.’
I look at Coco with a little wince. ‘Promise not to lose your shit?’
‘I’m not promising anything until you’re honest with me.’
I settle back into my stool. Where do I even start? The fact I’ve kept it from her for months is going to sting and it’s not easy to recall, let alone talk about.
How does someone go about describing the moment their heart was split in two, for reasons they can’t fathom and not through any fault of their own?
Not your heart, your ego, my brain rushes in with its wisdom. He rejected you.
It isn’t quick enough though and I wish Bates would work faster. I need a drink to douse the queasy unease suddenly ripe in my gut. Is that what this is? Heartbreak? Is that why it hurts so goddamn much? Why I’ve felt so lost these past four months and gone on a frenzy, trying to forget?
Seeing him again—the anger, the pain; none of it can take away from how he still makes me feel.
I also can’t deny how much I’ve missed him. Missed talking to him. Missed being able to offload. Missed being able to hang out with Ash and Coco and him. Missed him. Just him.