The Sweetest Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (4 page)

Jace inhaled suddenly. What if she’d done it? What if Claire had broken up with Tyler that very morning? What if last night had meant so much to her that she couldn’t lie another minute—not that they’d lied yet, had they?

“You okay?” Ashley asked, patting him on the shoulder and back into reality.

Jace coughed into his napkin, nodding. “Yeah, fine.” He met her eyes evenly. “Just hungover.”

Ashley glared and smiled. “Good,” she said.

Ah, so she had caught the leather comment.

Jace grinned, but he didn’t feel the smile. He felt a little sick. Claire had left. What did that mean? She’d flown instead of driving. What did that mean? His secret joy got tempered with potential consequences. They’d agreed to wait. To see. Claire had promised to see him in the morning.

Jace stared at his food, suddenly losing his appetite.

“There’s Tyler now,” Helen called, peering out the kitchen window. “Oh my, but he doesn’t look very happy.” She glanced at everyone and ran a hand over her forehead. “Traffic. I’ll bet you anything.”

No one spoke, but only grunted over chews. Ashley seemed even less interested in her meal and stared at her plate as well. Jace couldn’t eat any more. Not when his full stomach turned over at his mother’s words, threatening to dump out the contents.

Tyler. And he didn’t look very happy.

Jace didn’t know whether to be thrilled or scared, to run away, or hunker down and prepare for the storm. What if Claire told Tyler? What would his family say over stealing his brother’s girl? He hadn’t meant to.

Tyler let the screen door slam shut. Jace watched his mother wince, then lift eyebrows at the quiet table of captive onlookers, reminding them to continue their conversations.

He didn’t want to make small talk, but he tried. His pulse was racing, and he just didn’t know what else to do.

“So, did you leave any welts?” he asked Ashley.

Ashley turned his way, tipped her head. Jace could feel Lawrence boring his eyes into him. Wow. Bad wedding night, then. He swallowed, not sure how to fix that one. His mind was mostly on his twin coming in, readying to hear what he would say. So much so that when Ashley answered, it took him aback.

“My wedding night sucked, Jace. I started my period. On my wedding dress. On my wedding night.” Ashley’s eyes sparkled, with tears or anger, Jace couldn’t be sure. “Want to make more jokes?”

Could he feel like any more of a bastard? The room fell silent. Tyler’s boots hit the linoleum, punctuating Ashley’s words. Wishing the floor would eat him alive, Jace held his breath. He couldn’t look up.

“Breakfast is still warm, honey,” Helen said, breaking the stillness.

Forks returned to scraping, mouths to chewing, and Jace to breathing.

“I already ate. Sorry, Mom.”

Helen smiled, the worry still there in her brow. “That’s all right, Tyler. As long as you’re okay.”

Okay. There was a can-of-worms opener Helen Fletcher was so very good at, particularly when it came to Tyler, the unspoken favorite. Kindred spirit, Helen would correct if she ever heard any of them say it, but very close either way.

“I’m good, Mom, really.” Without another word, Tyler took the extra chair and scooted between Ashley and Jace.

Jace felt the rest of the table sigh in relief, but he was too busy choking back the sudden urge to puke to make conversation. He focused on his plate, taking slow sips of orange juice, sure that Tyler was about to turn to him and spit out the words. The ones that would name him a backstabbing dickhead, and the worst brother in the world.

He could nearly see the morning’s partly digested food spewing all over the fresh stack of pancakes his mom set down. But nothing came up. Tyler cleared his throat, but sat silently, seemingly unaware of the curious glances, or maybe he was just immune to them.

Jace needed to get up and go to his room. He needed to lie down. He needed to sort out the mess in his head that should also be in his heart. His heart was the worst part of it. His stupid heart was still dancing in secret joy. His heart
wanted
what Claire had done—broken up with Tyler. His heart wanted even more—the truth out there.

Tyler was all wrong for Claire. He’d see that soon. He’d get over her. And then ... no. What was he thinking? No. Jace couldn’t date Claire.

Tyler cleared his throat again. Their dad and Lawrence gave him questioning scowls. But no one asked what was wrong, and hearing Ashley’s wedding night disaster paled in comparison with this level of awkwardness.

Jace set down his glass and leaned forward to get up.

“I think Claire just broke up with me,” Tyler said, his voice as distant as his eyes.

“Oh, honey. No,” Helen said, rushing to her son’s side, but only touching his shoulder. “What happened?”

Forks went still. Ashley’s hand went to her chest. Jace leaned back, feeling punched in the gut. He didn’t want to hear it. But he had to hear it. Getting up to leave would cause all sorts of problems, and maybe a little suspicion, too.

“She said she really liked you guys, that I’m really lucky to have such a close family. But, that she doesn’t. She said she only had herself, and that she was okay with that. She said she didn’t think she was the kind of person who needed or wanted,” Tyler said, pausing to sweep a hand toward them all. “This.”

No one spoke for a moment. Jace couldn’t speak. Why would Claire say that, of all things? What happened to good old “let’s just be friends”?

“Well, honey, I don’t see how that constitutes a breakup.” Helen patted his shoulder, looking to everyone else for agreement.

Ashley joined in. “Maybe she just is saying that she needs time to adjust. It can be overwhelming when you come from something different, right Lawrence?”

Lawrence’s quelling look answered for him. Jace’s mind scraped over Tyler’s words. Why would she have put it that way? Why would Claire blame his family if they all were, in fact, great, and more so, if she planned to be around them again eventually?

“What else did she say?” Jace asked, mindless of how fast the words tumbled out. His stomach clenched.

“That she’d see me on campus.” Tyler glanced at Jace, blinking.

“See, now, that sounds all right to me,” Helen said.

“No. It’s not. We never see each other on campus, Mom. She’s a grad, and I’m an undergrad. We only met because she was teaching a summer session.”

Helen gave a small gasp. “She shouldn’t be dating students,” she said, as though it might help somehow.

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was just a summer fellowship, paid. Besides, we started dating after that, in the fall. I spotted her out one night dancing with a—dancing.” Again, he glanced Jace’s way.

His neck got hot. Why was Tyler looking at him like that? If Claire didn’t say anything about last night ... Why hadn’t she? Was she trying to protect him? They’d all find out eventually, anyway. They’d have to, if they were going to be together.

If.

Jace forced himself to breathe evenly and keep his features smooth. He crossed his arms to keep himself from chewing his thumbnail.

“It was the way she looked at me, I guess, more than anything.” Tyler reached for Jace’s orange juice and finished it off.

No one spoke. Jace inwardly winced. The pain in his words rang loud and his heart’s dance became a cower. A lowly, miserable cower.

“She looked at me like ... like a sister would. Like you do, Ash.” His eyes stayed fixed on empty air. “She’s never looked like that before.”

Helen rubbed his shoulder, crouched next to Tyler, and they all waited for him to continue— or not. No one would press him. And none would speak of it again if he didn’t. It was his life, his loss, and so, his business. All they could do was be there—as they always were in the face of loss and change.

None of them had ever been the cause of another’s loss, though.

But Tyler didn’t know that. Jace clung to the notion and ignored how undignified it made him. Tyler didn’t know yet. Better to let him adjust to his loss and to tell him later. He and Claire would figure out when and how together. And maybe they would wait long enough and do it well enough that Tyler would give his blessing rather than be wounded—as he clearly was now.

Tyler blinked rapidly. Oh, hell. Was he trying not to cry? Tears stung his own eyes. Jesus. What had he done? How could he have done it? All those laughs and snuggles felt so wrong now. What had they been thinking?

Did he dare even see Claire again? Was it worth this?

The memory of her laughter, of the way her nose crinkled up, and her two front teeth showed sent a pang through him. Not sorrow. More like awful hope. He might face anything for Claire, even this. But not until he knew how to navigate the truth.

Jace reached out and squeezed Tyler’s shoulder, exchanging a worried look with his mother. It was Tyler’s first heartbreak, and it would hurt the worst. But, he would help see him through it. What choice did he have? He was not just Jace’s brother, but also his best friend. And he’d helped cause it.

He would call Claire at some point. In a day or so. Maybe a week. Give everyone time to let things settle down. And if she called Jace before then, he would explain, and they’d go from there.
If
she called.

She’d changed a drive to a flight. She’d left without saying good-bye.

Jace might have nothing to confess. Nothing to fight for at all.

Tyler shook his head, sniffed, and blew out his mouth. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a while. Too much champagne, I think.”

Everyone nodded. Ashley kissed Tyler on the cheek as she passed by, and no one mentioned that he didn’t ever drink champagne. No one corrected him—his drink was Jack and Coke.

Jace went upstairs to Ashley’s room soon after, stopping only at the bathroom to empty his rotting, writhing guts.

~~

Chapter Four

“OMG, those are so hot,” a blonde tween girl said to Millie Match.

Hot? Millie yanked the zipper up on the left Italian leather boot and racked her brain for what
oh em gee
meant. Oh, yeah. Oh, my God. “I know, right?” she said, proud of herself.

O. M. G. Letters. Not words. An expression, nonetheless. Another quirk of the times that she needed to incorporate. Groovy wasn’t groovy anymore. She wiggled her toes. God, this shoe felt beyond delicious. The exactly right shape of the toe area, the way the heel hugged instead of pinched, should be gifted to all of mankind. Shoes this divine could end world wars.

Too bad they were priced to perpetuate world hunger instead.

The boots helped. The tweens were right. Definitely hot. They eased the tension in her heart. Helped her think—and man, did she have some creative thinking to do! Claire Byron was on the cusp of a match. Millie could feel it.

Millie conned Claire into asking for a twosome invite—no easy feat. Tyler and Claire had laughed and kissed and looked to be very much almost-in-love. The whole watching the sunrise thing. Claire’s pensive stares and quiet on the flight home could be from falling in love. Right? Claire should have at the very least been talking about plans and adjusting them. Calendars and lists were the girl’s life.

Routine. The expected. Why, again, had they flown instead of driving a rental car? Why spend the money on leaving the rental behind and booking last-minute tickets? Maybe love had scared her a bit. Maybe ... ugh, she had no idea.

One other glaring detail nagged, too. Millie still sported all seven gold bangles—proof that her life sentence was still in full tilt. If Claire were in love, Millie would finally be one bangle short.

If Claire wasn’t yet in love, what went wrong at the wedding? Besides Millie’s botched love potion.

Hey, it was her first love potion. Who could blame her for a sour mix? Claire hardly drank two sips of it. Seeing the late-night cuddle in the park, Claire and Tyler clearly hadn’t needed the potion to finally fall in love. It must be the plans thing. Claire was very married to her goal chart.

Millie waggled her booted foot to the beat of the lively version of the second-floor pianist’s “I’m in the Mood for Love.” If a wedding and a love potion weren’t enough to cement this match, what would?

With a sidelong glance at the tweens, Millie tossed caution aside. She put the spare boot to her face, shut her eyes, and buried her nose in the delectable scent of leather. Ahhh. Leather. In a snap, every part of her remembered who she used to be—Kiki Kent, the socialite and celebrity. The world was always on its knees for her smile.

“I suspected I’d find you here.”

The world got off its knees. Millie eased one eye open, keeping the boot to her face. AJ. Dark, sexy eyebrow quirked a bit higher than normal.

“Is it everything you dreamed of, and more?” he asked, glancing at the boot.

Millie narrowed her eyes and lowered the boot a few inches. Her seven gold bangles, aka heaven’s handcuffs, jingled a reminder—suck it up. This life sentence wasn’t going to see parole until she learned how to matchmake. She shrugged, gripping the boot tighter.

“Meh. I’ve smelled better.” Totally untrue. This boot was by far the yummiest. But then when you’re born into Italian leather boots, full-faced sniffing never occurs to you, so memory might not be serving her well. “What’s up?”

He gave her that knowing smile—the one that bunched and tangled her nerves into a wad. The tweens were gaping at him, and when he asked if he could join them, they nearly had a Beatles moment. Er, a
Beiber
moment. Within seconds, the tweens giggled off, leaving her and AJ nearly alone. Millie almost waved the tweens back over. Darn it. So much for shoe-bonding.

AJ dug a file out of his distressed suede messenger bag, an eBay score she’d found this past Valentine’s Day, the one-year anniversary of her matchmaking sentence. One year, and now eight more months, Millie still hadn’t made a match. AJ had made four. Oh, she’d had plenty of chances. Four. Just like AJ.