9. Jensen

At the altar, with the light of the morning flooding in through the gigantic windows behind her, the registrar raised her voice. "All rise for the bride."

Jensen stood, his movements identical to that of the hundred people behind him. From his position in the front row, his view of his aunt was blocked, but he caught Aldous's eye next to him. "You alright, mate?" he asked, his voice low.

Aldous nodded, his brows drawn together and his jaw clenched, steadfastly ignoring the corridor Alison had strategically placed him next to.

His cousin wouldn't take the chance to escape, Jensen knew. Even though crowds would send Aldous into a panic attack, he'd choose to suffer in silence.

But didn't they all, in one way or another?

Alison, his aunt, suffered in silence when her husband—soon to be her first husband—was abusive, choosing to stay with him for the sake of their children.

Jensen was no stranger to the concept, choosing to stay away for the good of another.

The University of Columbia.

That was where she was. She'd told him as much.

The slow chords of the song filled him with a loneliness he rarely allowed himself to dwell on. Jensen had left Talia everything she needed to contact him, and she never had.

It didn't take a genius to understand her message, he thought dully, staring at the long drapes hanging from the exposed ceiling beams.

He almost smiled when he thought of her, of how she was doing. He hoped Talia was happy, truly. They were at different stages of their lives; she was a student, and he was a fucking forty-one-year-old businessman. But sometimes, in his weakest moments, he wondered if she ever thought of him.

As Alison stepped beneath the white and blue roses weaved around the altar, Jensen turned to Aldous. A bead of sweat dripped down his cousin's temple, and his heart broke.

Alison may have given her youngest son an out in the form of a corridor, but she'd also placed Jensen on Aldous's other side.

If there was anyone that Aldous would let touch him, let comfort him, it was Jensen.

He held out his hand, almost willing Aldous to take it. Like they had when they were younger, before everything had happened. Before it had all gone wrong.

To his surprise, Aldous took it, clenching it tight.

"I have you," Jensen whispered. "I always have you. You're safe."

"Please be seated," the officiant's voice came.

They obeyed, but Jensen didn't release Aldous's hand. As much as he wanted to watch Alison get married, Aldous needed him more.

Silently, they worked through Aldous's breathing exercises, one round after another.

Don't slip into a panic attack, I'm here. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. Not like before.

Jensen had killed for him once, and he'd do it again.

He barely heard Alison's vows, or Warren's daughter Lucie babbling on the other side of the room. It wasn't until clapping sounded that he realised the ceremony was over.

As Jensen stood, Aldous pulled his hand away, beating a quick exit down the corridor. He'd need time, Jensen knew. Finally turning towards the front, Alison and Euan, her new husband and Jensen's closest friend, had already walked back down the aisle and out of sight.

Clapping along with the rest of the congregation, he thought back to when he first met Euan. The Welshman had been referred over by a friend, needing funding to expand his property business. They worked well together, and had become good friends in the process. Euan was a decade older than Jensen, but them both being older meant they were often in the same frame of mind. They both valued caution in their business dealings; neither of them would take a high risk investment with a barge pole, regardless of the potential rewards. He'd had no idea that a couple of years later he'd be—

He blinked as a flash of red hair crossed his vision.

His heart stopped.

That couldn't have been who he thought it was, trailing down the aisle after Alison and Euan with the rest of the crowd.

Jensen shouldered past Rhys, cutting through the horde of guests. The happy couple had stopped in the entrance hall outside, besieged by well-wishers, but none of them had the red hair he was looking for.

He turned, catching sight of a red-haired woman swiftly making her way down the corridor and into the room assigned to the bridal party.

She let the door drift shut after she walked through it, but Jensen darted a hand out to catch it before it could close, his footsteps silent as he entered the room.

The bridal party's room was a mess of cosmetics and clothes, with discarded slippers littering the floor. White satin dressing gowns were slung over the backs of the chairs and sofas, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows.

It was empty, save for the two of them.

Not that long ago, he'd walked into a room just like this. Thousands of miles separated the two, but just like before, she was looking down as he entered. Unlike last time, though, she was fully clothed, wearing a dark blue dress that clung to her like a second skin. Half of her long red hair was pulled back from her face, whilst the rest tumbled down her back in casual ringlets.

For a moment, he said nothing, finally drinking in the sight of her.

The one that got away.

"Talia," he breathed.

She jumped, their eyes connecting—before hers blew wide, every bit as stunned as she was. "Jay?!"

He'd never seen her in the light of day. The tepid New York sunrise hadn't even begun when he'd kissed her farewell, assuming she would contact him when she woke.

And he'd waited. And waited.

Until eventually he realised that his quiet farewell that morning had been final.

Until today.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, resisting the urge to pull her close and never let her go.

"I… " Talia paused before replying, refusing to pull her gaze away from his as it hardened. The Talia he'd met before had been full of fear, but this one stood before him with a spine of steel. "What do you think? I'm attending a wedding. Why are you here?"

"I think you can probably guess," Jensen replied, his words tinged with amusement. "How is university going? You're at Columbia, aren't you?"

"I was." She looked away, pursing her lip to the side. "How did your… er, business deal go? Did you get what you wanted?"

He laughed, a rush of relief at having her in front of him. How could it be that he barely remembered the details of the business deal, but every moment of their encounter had been branded into his mind? "I did. Although Gloria, our CEO, is still angry at me for not pushing the price down even further."

"She was in an accident, wasn't she?"

"She was. All recovered now. Back on her throne, as she likes to say."

Talia's lips tightened. "I'm glad to hear." She cleared her throat. "While you're here, there's actually something I nee—"

Behind him, the door opened. A young woman walked in, wearing the same blue dress that Talia. Now that he thought of it, hadn't the bridesmaids been dressed in blue? The woman spared him a quick glance, but quickly walked past, a baby on her hip, grumbling unhappily. "I'm sorry," she said to Talia. "He's hungry, and when you didn't come back—"

"I understand," Talia nodded, her gaze darting from the woman to Jensen. She took the baby in her arms, throwing a square of fabric over her shoulder, her movements as smooth as if she'd done it a thousand times before. After rustling around in the bag at her feet, she quickly secured a bib around the baby's neck before holding out a small pouch of food. The baby's hands quickly grabbed at it.

Jensen could only see the back of the baby's head, but something glued him to the spot as he watched, his heart beginning to race.

The other woman lowered her voice, side-eyeing him. "Do you want to come with me? Or would you like me to stay?"

Talia shook her head, refusing to look in his direction. She held the baby tight to her chest. "You go. I'll be fine."

As the other woman left, the only sound was the baby's low gurgling.

Dates swirled around his mind, filling him with outright panic. "Talia," he croaked, his slow advance bridging the gap between them, until he was close enough to touch her. "Whose baby is that?"

Her voice was a whisper, but she still wouldn't look at him. Her arms were locked around the child, her hand on the back of his head. Brown hair. He has brown hair. "He's mine," she answered, her neck oddly stiff.

Fear flashed through him. He'd replayed every second of their night together in his mind a hundred times over. "I thought you couldn't—"

Talia touched the baby's cheek, her gaze heavy with a mother's love. "So did I."

He hadn't voiced it, but his question lingered in the air all the same.

In slow increments, she loosened her grip, allowing the baby to turn his head around, taking in the room around him—and Jensen.

His own eyes looked up at him, bright and curious.

"Talia," he croaked, his voice breaking in time with his heart. His eyes burned with emotion, but he did nothing to stop it. The tears fell, disappearing into his neat stubble. "Why did you neve—?"

The little boy reached towards Jensen with his free hand.

Jensen took it.

A wave of emotion shook his shoulders as the tiny hand squeezed his own. "He's my son."

It wasn't a question.

Talia's voice was small. "He is."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" a familiar voice asked from the open doorway—one Jensen knew well.

The door shut with a vicious bang.

Euan approached, his expression white hot with rage—every bit of it directed at Jensen. Another man shadowed him, his eyes dark and his scowl even darker.

"All this time we've been working together," Euan hissed, "and this is what you were doing behind my back."

Jensen stepped in front of Talia and the baby—his son—and put his arm across them. "Excuse me?"

Talia pushed his arm down, walking over to Euan's side. "You know him?" she asked Euan.

"I thought I did," Euan grimaced, looking as though he was hanging onto his anger by a thread.

The dark-eyed man put his hand around Talia's waist, and a fiery burst of jealousy raged through Jensen's chest.

"Is this why you wouldn't tell me who the father is?" Euan asked her. "Did he take advantage of you, cyw?"

"No, Dad! Jay and I met when I was in New York."

"Dad?!" Jensen rasped.

"Jay?" Euan's hands clenched into fists. "Is that what he told you his name was?"

Talia glanced at Jensen with eyes full of hurt. "Isn't it?"

"No," Euan shook his head. "No, it is fucking not." He looked to the scowling man with his arm around Talia's waist. "The photographs will be starting at any moment, Quinn. Take her down to the lawn whilst I have a chat with Jay here."

"Talia—" Jensen started, watching her walk towards the door, Quinn's possessive arm around her waist.

Just before it closed, she glared back at him glassy-eyed, their son tight against her chest, still sucking on the little pouch she'd given him. "Fuck you, Jay."

"Talia," he shadowed her footsteps, ignoring Euan entirely.

But Euan took his chance, his fist connecting with Jensen's temple. He stumbled, but he was ready for the next one, catching it in mid-air.

"I am not going to fight you, Euan."

"You fucked my daughter without even giving her your real name." Euan's voice was a snarl, his hands attempting to close around Jensen's throat.

"I gave her everything she needed to cont—" He dodged another punch from his friend, wrenching away from the wall.

"And not once have you called asking about that little boy. Your son," Euan breathed heavily. "Do you even know his name?"

To his everlasting shame, Jensen couldn't give him an answer.

"I didn't think so," Euan sneered. "Get the fuck out of here before I have security throw you out. And don't ever come near my family again."