Her head snapped up. “I’m not.”
His look was sympathetic, and that made it all the worse. “You are. You know how I said that he looks at you every time you’re not paying attention? You do the same. And may I just say, you’ve been looking at Vin a hell of a lot more than you’ve been looking at Tom tonight.”
Jill felt her cheeks go hot. With anger. How dare he! With embarrassment. Oh God, was he right?
And then shame. Yes. Yes, he was absolutely right.
She closed her eyes and swayed just a little. “I don’t know what to do.”
Anth lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug. “You’ve got to choose.”
Jill licked her lips and gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know that it’s that simple. I mean it’s not like Vin even wants—”
She broke off, and her eyes found the quiet man sitting at her kitchen stool, looking so utterly alone.
“Take it from a brother that knows Vincent better than he realizes. He wants.”
Jill shook her head. She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to deal with any of it.
“I’m getting married, Anth,” she said.
“Fine,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “Just make sure that’s what you want.”
“Of course it’s what I want.”
He merely looked down at her, and Jill resisted the urge to shove him. “What is it with you Morettis waiting until now to have this conversation with me? You couldn’t have told me earlier that Vin might have wanted—something?”
“Would that have changed anything?” Anth asked.
Jill’s eyes went once more to her partner. Her best friend. Her everything.
She didn’t answer Anthony.
But her heart responded loud and clear.
Yes. Yes, it would have changed everything.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her hand lifting to her mouth at the realization of what she had to do.
Anthony’s hand rested kindly on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one that had to tell a perfectly nice man that she wasn’t going to marry him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When Tom texted to ask if they could cancel dinner reservations, and do room service in his hotel room instead, Jill had been torn between relief and alarm.
Relief, because it had been a crappy day. She and Vincent had endured yet another of those icy, bare-minimum-of-words exchanges. The high heels that had seemed like a great idea this morning were pinching like crazy. The thought of going to a fancy dinner, sitting across from Tom, and pretending that she was excited to talk about seating arrangements felt…
Unbearable.
But on the other hand, being alone in Tom’s hotel, just the two of them?
Also unbearable.
Jill told herself she didn’t take her sweet time paying the cab driver, but the truth was, she was dreading the evening that lay ahead.
It was definitely time to face the fact that something was seriously very, very wrong with the direction her life was headed.
Anthony had been right. She couldn’t marry one man while her head was all wrapped up in another.
It was time to put on her big girl panties and deal with it.
Tomorrow.
She’d deal with it tomorrow.
Right now all she wanted was a dinner—preferably something caloric and filled with carbs, and maybe a beer to take the edge off. And comfortable shoes. She could really, really go for comfortable shoes right about now.
The elevator ride up to the thirty-eighth floor was faster than Jill was ready for, and too soon, she found herself pasting on what she’d come to think of as her happy face.
At least tonight, she only had to do the happy face for Tom, and not an entire restaurant.
But in some ways that was worse. More chance of exposure.
More opportunity for him to finally open his eyes and see her and ask the dreaded question:
Is everything okay?
And no. No, everything was not okay.
Tom opened the door with his usual wide smile, but she noted that there were tired lines around his eyes. She’d always loved his smile lines, but today there was a hardness about them.
As though the smile had been forced into place for far too long.
She knew that feeling all too well. Knew what it was like to smile when you didn’t want to, to talk when you wanted to be silent. To sparkle when you just wanted a freaking nap.
Too late, Jill wondered how long had that been going on. How long had she and Tom been failing to see each other?
She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to that question.
“I already ordered some food,” he said as Jill came inside and shrugged out of her jacket. “Hope that’s okay. Skipped lunch today, so I’m starving.”
“No problem,” she said distractedly, heading toward the window where the Brooklyn Bridge looked like something out of a picture.
“The view’s gorgeous,” she said.
He didn’t respond, and Jill turned around to find him watching her with a pensive look on his face.
Maybe he could read her after all.
She smiled. He smiled back.