Jack, where did you find that napkin? It wasn’t yours to take.
Jack, where did you get those lyrics? And don’t even think about telling me it’s just a coincidence.
Number one, huh? I hope you’re proud of yourself, Jack.
How do you live with being so dishonest, Jack?
She’d said so many other things in those first few months, but these were the questions he remembered the most. Because these were the ones he wished to undo. The ones he wished to deny. The ones he asked himself daily.
Yes, he was proud of his career. But no, he wasn’t proud of the way he got here. For every second of every day, his regrets were many. Still, regret did nothing to prepare him for what he was sure to face when he locked eyes with April for the first time in three years. Wanting to get it over with, he inhaled all the air around them and slowly turned around.
Nothing prepared him for her smile. Or for the fact that three years had done scrawny, short, wispy April Quinn a whole lot of favors.
April kept the smile pasted on her face, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any other emotion. Maybe he felt guilty. Maybe he felt remorseful. Maybe he felt bad that his career took off instead of hers, which would have been justified.
But she wouldn’t let him see her feeling anything except happy. Happy, happy, happy. Despite the past two days spent doing every freaking thing possible for the Sister Bride from Hell, Jack Vaughn was going to see her happy. So she smiled. The sweetest, kindest, Southernmost, fakest smile she could muster. And she kept it there while his mouth opened and closed, the famous singer-songwriter at a sudden loss for his own words.
Imagine that.
“Um, I think I can manage it myself. But thanks.”
An apple dropped from his hands and rolled across his foot before it disappeared under a black Volvo. April nearly laughed at the awkward picture it made, but then she saw Jack wince and saw him shift and saw an embarrassed flush as it made its way up his neck, and then she felt . . . sorry for him? Frustrated, she straightened her shoulders and demanded indignation to return. Like an obedient puppy she’d been carrying around for three solid years, it did. With a little added anger to make things interesting.
She held that smile in place and said, “It looks like you’re handling things really well, so okay then.” She didn’t even try to mask the sarcasm in her voice. It was bound to come out eventually anyway. “It’s great to see you, Jack. Can’t wait to hear you perform at the wedding.” She turned to go, bitterness perched like a devil, wings flapping wildly as it shouted obscenities from its spot on her left shoulder. If she weren’t such a nice girl she would probably encourage it to keep going. Instead she slapped it away, then stomped on it for good measure to make sure it was good and dead.
Sometimes it was such a pain to be naturally nice.
“April, wait.”
Sometimes it also sucked to be such a slow walker. She turned back around and worked up that smile again, but even she could feel the way it faltered.
“What? Do you need something else?”
She expected him to stutter; what she got instead was a wry grin. “Why’d you stomp your foot like that when you walked away?”
And just like that the tables were turned. “I didn’t stomp my foot.”
His grin only deepened. “Oh, but you did. Kind of an odd display of anger in the middle of all that smiling you did, in my opinion.”
So he’d seen through her fa?ade. Now she was ticked off. “No one cares about your opinion, Jack.”
He shrugged, arrogance practically dripping from that wavy head of gorgeous hair. Wait. She didn’t just think that. His hair was disgusting. Even worse than that tan, chiseled face. April gave herself an internal beat down for noticing.
“Actually, quite a few people care about my opinion nowadays, if you want the truth.”
And finally, there was her opening. “As if you would know anything about the truth. Good one, Jack. You’re so hilarious.”
She should have felt better at the way he blanched. Swallowed. And looked instantly sorry.
But she didn’t. Instead, she watched him nod and offer the first admission of wrongdoing she’d ever heard him say. “You’re right, and I deserved that.” He looked over her shoulder for a long minute, locked in a faraway stare. Finally, he looked her in the eye. “I’ll see you at the wedding, April. Thanks for your offer to help.”
And with a sad smile, he climbed inside his car, leaving a pile of mutilated groceries on the pavement behind him. April stared after him until his car disappeared, slowly beginning to realize they now shared the same raw emotion.
Just like that flash of a smile Jack had just given her, sadness wrapped its arms around her and squeezed tight.