From the First Kiss. Jessica Bird
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eyelids flipped open. But he stared at the ceiling, not at her.
The silence that followed was thick and cold as snow.
She came into the room a little. Shut the door quietly. “I have a reason for needing to see you.”
Nothing. No response.
“Ah, did Reese ever tell you about his will?”
“No.”
“He left you—”
“I don’t want money.”
“The boats.”
Alex’s face turned toward her briefly. His lips were tight. “What?”
“All twelve of them. The two America’s Cups, the schooner, his antique four-master. The others…All of them.”
Alex put one hand over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw worked as if he were grinding his molars.
She noted absently that he was still built strong, even with the weight loss. On the arm he had up, his biceps were curled thickly, stretching the short sleeve of his T-shirt, and his solid forearms had a network of veins running down them.
Her eyes drifted to his chest and then on to his taut stomach. The T-shirt had ridden up as he’d lain down, revealing a thin stripe of hair that ran from his belly button into the waistband of the pajama bottoms.
She looked back to his face quickly.
“I thought you should know,” she said. “The estate is being probated, but it’s a large, complicated one so it’ll take some time. My point being, you won’t have to worry about storage fees for a while.”
There was another long silence.
His sisters had warned her that he wasn’t letting anyone inside, and they’d been very right. But when had he ever? She could remember Reese saying he knew his partner’s character like the back of his hand, but the man’s thoughts and feelings were totally off-limits.
“So I guess I’ll… I’m going to go,” she said finally.
When her hand was on the doorknob, she heard Alex clear his throat. “He loved you. You know that, don’t you?”
Tears leaped into her eyes as she glanced back at him. God, he was so still. “Yes.”
Alex’s head turned slowly. And he looked at her.
Agony was in his face. Total, abject despair. The depth of the searing emotion floored her, and she came across the room on impulse.
Which was a bad idea.
He shrank from her. Actually pushed his body away, right to the far edge of the mattress.
Cassandra skidded to a halt next to the bed and fought not to completely break down.
“I will never understand why you’ve hated me all these years,” she said, her voice cracking.
“That was never the problem,” he shot back. “Now, please, just leave. It’s better for us both.”
“Why? You were his best friend. I was his wife.”
“You don’t need to remind me of that.”
Cassandra shook her head and gave up. “The lawyers will be in touch about your inheritance.”
She closed the door behind her and quickly went down the hall to the guest room she’d been given. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she straightened a fold in her Chanel skirt, put her hands in her lap, crossed her legs at the ankles—
And sobbed.
Alex shut his eyes and took deep breaths.
On the backs of his lids, all he could see was long, thick, copper-colored hair. Pale, smooth skin. Lips that were naturally tinted pink. Eyes that were a soft green, like sea glass.
His poor, miserable, beaten-up body started to crank over, like an old engine wheezing to life. In spite of the fact that he was pumped full of drugs, and hung over, and in pain, warmth spread under his skin.
Feeling something, anything, other than suffering should have been a relief. Instead, the flush kicked up regrets that almost had him crying out.
Reese may be dead, but in Alex’s mind, Cassandra was still very much the man’s wife. And she always would be.
Chapter Two
The following afternoon Cassandra scanned the small crowd that had gathered in the living room for Gray and Joy’s marriage ceremony. Gray’s father, still recovering from a stroke, was sitting in a cushioned chair. Nate Walker, who was married to Alex’s sister Frankie, was standing against some windows. Next to him was a handsome, black-haired guy with a tattoo on his neck. Spike? Yes, that was his name. Libby, Gray’s housekeeper, was behind Spike. In her hands, she had the leash of a golden retriever who had a ring of flowers around his neck.
At the head of the room, in front of the fire, there was a collared minister holding a leather book. Flanking him were Gray and his best man, Sean O’Banyon, as well as Alex’s two sisters, Joy and Frankie.
As Cass caught Gray’s eye and waved to him, she thought the man had never looked happier. She’d known him for almost a decade and had watched him grow so hard she’d worried that no one could reach him. But here he was, smiling like a schoolboy, love shining in his eyes as he shifted his weight impatiently.
Cass went over and stood next to the dog. Spike was stroking one of the retriever’s ears, and the man flashed her a smile, his odd yellow eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You want to take Ernest’s other side?” he said quietly, as if he sensed she was nervous.
The dog looked up, clearly seconding the invitation.
She laid a hand on Ernest’s soft head. While patting, she glanced behind her.
“Don’t worry,” Libby whispered. “I just left Joy in the kitchen. She hasn’t forgotten what she’s supposed to do in that gown.”
But the bride wasn’t who Cass was looking for.
Moments later the double doors from the dining room opened and Joy appeared. Dressed in a simple white satin sheath, and holding a small bouquet of cream-colored roses, she walked up to Gray, glowing like a sunrise.
Cass glanced over her shoulder once more. She’d been steeling herself to see Alex all morning, sure that he wouldn’t miss his sister’s wedding. He was in rough shape, but certainly not that rough.
Although, it wasn’t as if she were going to volunteer to check on him.
Just as the minister flipped open the Book of Common Prayer, she caught a movement over to the right.
Cass’s eyes grabbed and held on to Alex as he came in on crutches. He positioned himself in the far corner, leaning back against the wall and kicking out his cast. He’d shaved, and his damp hair was brushed straight back from his forehead. Without any whiskers or bangs, the bones in his face were very clear. His high, carved cheekbones. That hard jawline. The straight nose.
He was wearing a different pair of flannel pajama bottoms, in a Black Watch plaid. One of the legs had been split up the side to accommodate his cast and a couple of safety pins had been used to keep the two halves together above his knee. His button-down shirt was white and pressed, tucked neatly into the waistband.
His eyes were trained on the ceremony. Which was good because she didn’t want to get caught staring at him.
She forced herself to look away.
Alex knew the moment Cassandra’s gaze left him. It was a goddamned relief.
And he did a good job of not staring at her. He kept his head forward, staying focused on his sister.
At least until the minister addressed Gray. “Will you love her and comfort