7. Alex

Chapter 7

Alex

P roposing a wedding activity that requires me to be close to Jaclyn is by far the worst idea I've had all night. But messing with the event coordinator is far too much fun. The mere suggestion of skipping cutting the cake to dance with Jaclyn had Lisa fuming. Despite my fake wife being one of the most rigid women I've ever met, she seems to welcome the chaos. It feels like college all over again. This time, the stakes are higher than failing an accounting class.

Maybe it's the whiskey, or the whirlwind that was today, but I take a risk going off script once more. Spinning Jaclyn out and back into my arms, I dip her at the end of the song. She throws her head back, letting out a full laugh; it's music to my ears. When I pull her upright, her laughter ceases almost immediately, now acutely aware of what's expected of us.

I'm a man of my word, so I give her a discreet, curt nod. Catching on, she wraps her arms around my neck, and I kiss the side of her mouth—enough to appear to be a real kiss.

Fuck, why do I want more than a fake kiss with her?

I pull back, but she moves closer, pressing her soft cheek to mine and whispers, "Thank you." Her warm breath fans my ear, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

There isn't a moment to enjoy having her in my arms because a hand clamps on my shoulder. "May I cut in?" I stiffen and abruptly pull back from Jaclyn at her father's deep, commanding voice.

"Of course, Former President Taylor."

"I'm pretty sure that you're supposed to call me ‘Dad.'" He winks and I step to the side, finding Jaclyn's eyes full of fear. Neither of us have done anything wrong, but I feel the same worry she's exuding. Her eyes soften as quickly as they widened, and her well-rehearsed smile appears, leaving me to awkwardly move away from them to enjoy their father-daughter dance.

The music begins, and they start swaying side-to-side. Standing next to my father, he grumbles, "She's not yours, Alexander." Thankfully, he's quiet enough that no one can hear him as we watch Jaclyn dance with her dad. Despite my father's warning, I can't seem to take my eyes off her.

"I know. But I had to do it," I whisper back. "She deserves the perfect wedding. Especially once she finds out what happened."

"I was briefed by the Gallaghers; we can never tell her. Mickey's not happy with the turn of events. He didn't go into details, but we'll deal with it another time. After the wedding, we'll go see Chr—" He looks behind him. " Your brother. Then, you'll take Jaclyn home." My eyes fix on him as he continues looking out at the dance floor. "You need to keep up appearances. Alex had an accident. Hit by a drunk driver on his way to the wedding." I nod in understanding. With prying eyes everywhere, I do my best to keep my expression neutral. "We'll cover for you until your brother is home. Thank you for doing this."

He claps me on the back twice, and I can't help the mixture of pride and hurt I feel. The day I told my father I was running for office, I'd never seen him so excited. His enthusiasm died instantaneously when I told him I was running as a moderate in the opposing party. We haven't spoken more than two words to each other in the five years since I won a Senate seat in Texas. Until now.

The song ends, and I take to the dance floor with Mom. We remain eerily quiet for the four minutes, swaying to a classical rendition of a song I've heard before, but can't place. When it ends, she says softly, "You're a good man, Alex."

I am not.

I've spent the afternoon flirting with my brother's now- wife. If there's a hell, I'm certain today has earned me a ticket straight to the gates.

My mother gives me a final hug, and Jaclyn takes my hand to lead us to the cake table. I suspect Lisa has gotten to her about our schedule and the fun is over. Firmly gripping the handle of the flimsy knife, I push down, only to be met with a hard material I can't seem to cut through. While the knife is a thick plastic posing as metal, it shouldn't be an issue. Jaclyn chuckles softly and delicately places her hand over mine. She moves my cut a few inches to the left, where I'm able to slice into the spongy cake.

"The majority of it is for show. There's only a sliver of real cake in this whole thing; the rest is dense styrofoam. It's too warm for a cake to be sitting outside for us to cut," she explains, her fingers lingering on top of mine. "This way, we still get a bit of fact in the fiction."

We plate the piece together, and I break off a small portion to feed it to her. There's no hesitation; our gazes locked as I lift the chocolate and vanilla marble cake to her. My cock twitches in my slacks as she takes a bite, briefly imagining her mouth wrapped around something significantly less innocent than my fingers.

Forget a ticket to hell, I'll be catching the express train.

Jaclyn does the same; feeding me a broken-off part of the slice. Except, when we're done, she sucks her fingers clean of the frosting. She has to be fucking with me at this point, doing this intentionally. I'm transfixed by her until it's announced that we'll be tossing the bouquet and garter, which pulls me from my wicked musings… Only for them to quickly return at the thought of kneeling before her.

And I'll have my hand up her dress…

The single women line up, and she tosses her bouquet over her shoulder. It's always been my understanding that a second bouquet is used, so the bride may keep her original one as a memento, but the one Jaclyn is tossing is from the ceremony.

It isn't until I'm on one knee in front of her to retrieve the garter that I'm able to ask, "Didn't you want to keep it?"

"The bouquet? No. She'll enjoy it more than I will," she replies softly. "I love roses, but hate lavender… and red. Thankfully, I talked them out of red."

I nod at the curious admission, wondering if my family is one of ‘them,' as my fingers carefully slide up her smooth leg in search of the pointless fabric. Her breath hitches when I reach her thigh. "I'm so sorry," I quietly apologize. I'm not, but need to behave myself as I tug it down quickly; I'd hate for her to be any more uncomfortable than she already is. The tradition is incredibly awkward— who wants their wife's garter in the hands of another man? Flinging it into the crowd of eligible bachelors, cheers erupt when a fellow senator catches it.

For the rest of the evening, Jaclyn and I visit with guests, never speaking with anyone long enough to raise suspicion that I'm not my brother. We share one last dance, and I feel a bit like Cinderella with the clock striking midnight—this will be the last time I'll have her in my arms. Tomorrow, we'll part ways, and there's a fair chance we'll never speak again after tonight. The realization stings more than I ever thought possible.

Our song ends and I can't resist pressing a single kiss to her temple. Her small hum is a punch in the gut. It'll be the last time I hear it…

The last time I kiss her…

I bring my lips next to her ear, keeping my voice low. "When we leave, be careful to not call me Alex, and don't mention the accident. You never know who might be listening in or who we can trust. Even his own doctors. We'll get changed here and drive straight to him."

Jaclyn takes a deep breath and pulls back, searching my eyes for a moment before sighing, "Okay."

"For what it's worth, he doesn't deserve you, princess," I admit, as much as I shouldn't.

And in no lifetime would I deserve you, either.