Willa lifts her chin in our direction and winks, before falling into another chorus of loud wails.
-Please! I need a doctor.
I have to cover my mouth with the palm of my hand to not laugh at the ridiculousness of the plan.
Jasper does nothing but shake his head, squeeze my hand, and walk out the back door.
I run barefoot down the carpeted hallway, taking the biggest strides I can while desperately trying to control the laughter bubbling in my chest.
It’s liberating. It’s a relief. And before I reach the door, my fingers loosen around the shiny heels in my hand.
I release them like Cinderella and step out into a dull November afternoon, my palm pressed against Jasper’s.
-How much left? I huff, out of breath after running a few blocks in a big, heavy dress with a strong dose of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Jasper stops, making me grimace slightly.
-I’m sorry. I parked at the stadium. I hadn’t planned on being your getaway vehicle. His fingers throb in mine as he pulls me closer to his side. And then his tone changes. Although maybe I should have.
His eyes fall, as if he’s embarrassed by what he just said, and he staggers to a stop.
“Jesus, Sloane.” Your feet. I didn’t even think beyond getting you out that door. With his eyes fixed on the ground, he points to me behind him, and I realize that he is looking at my feet. My bare feet on a cold winter sidewalk. Why haven’t you said anything? Do you have something against your feet? I feel like I’m the only one who cares for them.
“Don’t worry about my feet.” It’s this damn hairstyle that’s killing me. I feel the place where I notice small hairs pulling on my scalp.
His lips tilt downward in a sullen frown, and then he crouches down.
-Get on.
“Do you want to take me on a horseback ride?”
He throws me a playful look over his shoulder, a look that takes me back to the long, hot summers we spent floating on the river, splashing around and staring at Jasper Gervais, who seemed like a man to me even at seventeen.
I wish I could go back and warn that Sloane about how she would grow up. That is to say, devastating.
-It would not be the first time. Let’s go. I don’t want Woodcock to catch up with us and throw a tantrum.
I can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of me. Or that my fingers are already gripping my skirt as I climb Jasper like he’s a tree. When I’m close enough, he picks me up easily and I realize I’m weightless for him.
A little dancer being carried by a huge hockey player. In her damn wedding dress.
Giggles wash over me and I wrap my arms around Jasper’s neck, snuggling into the warmth of his body. I feel the vibrations of her laughter against my chest and my nipples rub against the inside of the bra.
-This is crazy. I let my head fall onto the back of his neck, the ends of his hair brushing my forehead.
-No. He lifts me higher onto his back as we pull into the hockey arena parking lot, and I fight against the tight dress to keep my legs wrapped around the wide expanse of his back. Taking Woodcock as a legal name is crazy.
Jasper. I slap him on the shoulder. Behave well.
-No, thanks. “I’m sick of being nice to that guy,” he grumbles, still irritated from dinner the other night. Not that I can blame him.
-Were you thinking of putting a script on it?
“Winthrop-Woodcock ain’t no better, baby.
I snort and am about to tease him back when I hear it. A tearing sound.
My God.
Jasper freezes momentarily.
-That was…?
A silent laugh runs through my body.
-My dress? Yeah.
-Are…
“My ass still feels covered.” There is still no breeze. “I reach back with one hand to run it over my ass, just in case.” “It’s still just my hair that hurts,” I admit.
He just grumbles, quickening his pace and looking around as if bothered by the idea of someone seeing what can’t even be seen. Annoyed because my hair is too tight.
I don’t know when Jasper became so… overprotective?
-There is.
The lights of a silver Volvo flash and I breathe a sigh of relief. Of course those shoes were torture, but running barefoot on cold concrete has nothing to envy of discomfort.
He places me on the passenger side, but his hands don’t leave my body. He brushes my hip with the palm of his hand as he opens the door and lifts me into the seat. He even grabs the seatbelt to buckle it up before stopping.
His sea blue eyes rest momentarily on mine and then down to my lips.
He shakes his head and walks away from me.
He’s about to slam the door, but he stops and startles me by yanking it open. He walks over and says, “You know what?” -He takes my hair and his soft hands rest on my locks. This fucking thing has to go.
I don’t know how he does it, but he yanks the main buckle, encrusted with crystals, out of my hair and throws it on the floor. The clink of the buckle hitting the asphalt is loud in an otherwise quiet moment. It has something symbolic.
The relief I feel is instant. The point that hurt no longer hurts.
My hair falls freely around my cheeks, and he watches it sway. For a moment, his eyes warm and surprise me when they return to my lips.
-That’s better? rumbles.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears and I nod in silence. I don’t know what to say. I’m trying to understand this version of my friend. Protective and possessive, with a devotion that reinforces each of his movements.
He mirrors my wordless nod, steps back and closes the door.
In a few moments he settles into the driver’s seat and we leave the facility in silence.
What once seemed like relief and freedom slowly transforms into shock and a constant state of nausea.
A tense moment of what the hell was that with the hair?
A strong dose of what have I done?
I review the conversations I will have to have. The contracts we will have to pay for a wedding that never took place. The move I’ll have to make out of Sterling’s penthouse.
Dread sinks like a heavy stone into my gut.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter, watching the city streets merge with the highway that leads to Chestnut Springs.
“Are we still okay?” I notice Jasper’s nervous looks. I know him well enough to recognize that he is stressed right now. Concerned. You’ve always been good at worrying, so your anxiety is probably getting to you a lot.