doing? She was getting married. In less than thirty days, she was walking down the aisle and seeing the end of a very long engagement and months of arrangements. She would become Oliver’s wife, take his name, join his family’s firm, and begin her life. The life she’d hand selected.
No more would she waffle over who she was or what she wanted.
She knew.
If she didn’t know by now, she never would.
Thank God her mother hadn’t insisted on coming today. What a disaster that could have been. Eve Byron had a pit-bull grip on her daughter’s wedding arrangements and there was no way she wouldn’t sniff out a history here.
Meeting Jace like this had to be some sort of test. Her greatest wish, only regret, and one desire, lay before her feet like truth or dare— Are you sure?
She would not fail. She couldn’t. Too much was at risk. Her parents would never forgive her. Oliver would never forgive her. They’d already gotten the marriage license, she’d quit the WRC, and her dress was perfect.
She shut the dressing room door on herself, glad for the distance between the bridal room and main hall of fitting rooms. She shouldn’t have come alone. All she wanted to do was follow Jace and explain. Tell him why she never called, detail why she was getting married, why it was the right decision, and why they could never have worked out, no matter how much they felt for each other. No matter how much they still wanted each other.
Attraction.
Base attraction tied to memory, colored by time and regret.
She wanted to follow him to say that she was sorry. But if she followed him, she would do something that she couldn’t take back. She’d already hugged him tight, held his hand like a schoolgirl needing to stand next to her crush during the Pledge of Allegiance, as though sheer nearness could satisfy the sudden hole of need that gaped open upon seeing him.
Claire unzipped the dress, so thankful that she’d declined help with the hundred buttons.
What had she been thinking, agreeing to lunch? She wasn’t thinking clearly; that was obvious. She probably wouldn’t until she got some space between her and Jace. If only one grin hadn’t struck her right in the heart.
Ugh. This was bad. Very bad.
Bad or not, she dug out her lip gloss and blotted her shiny nose on her sleeve as she dressed. Her reflection didn’t show the riot inside her. Did it?
She should make her excuses to Helen. Instead, she waited. She worried. What if meeting Jace here meant something?
At the very least, it was her chance to say good-bye. Claire stared at her reflection in the mirror. She fixed her shirt and toyed with her hair. Maybe she should wear it up. A flash of memory. The wedding. The way his gaze never left her neckline while they were on the dance floor. Why had Jace been so mesmerized by her neck? Why hadn’t any man ever looked at her like that since?
It didn’t matter.
Maybe men did. Would she even notice? She dropped her hair.
She would make her excuses to Helen. It was the right thing to do. Nodding at her reflection, she wiped her hands down her jeans and stepped out of the bride’s room. Feeling only a tad light-headed, she made her way across the lobby to the smaller chain of rooms on the other side.
Helen motioned her over. “Millie will just be another minute. How wonderful that you two get to reconnect.”
Claire took a deep breath. “Mrs. Fletcher ...”
“You know better than that, Claire. You and Tyler may not have worked out, but you are still a friend of the family. Everyone has missed you. So, no ‘Mrs. Fletcher’ here, alright?”
“Of course.” Claire kept her shoulders straight, though they wanted to loll forward and relax. The woman knew how to put a person at ease. “About lunch—”
Jace stepped around the dressing room corridor. He leaned against a wall, took a slow sip from a paper cup, and dragged his gaze up the length of her. Whatever sanity Claire had gathered together skipped right out
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