Cuff Me (15 page)

J
ill knew she should be happy that the Morettis and Tom were getting to know each other. Knew that in theory, it was a good thing that the two most important areas of her life were blending.

But right now?

Right now she felt just about anything but happy.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time—having a spontaneous dinner party at her place. She’d wanted Tom to get to know her friends in a casual, “let’s all hang out and eat pasta and drink wine” kind of way.

The way they did it on her favorite TV shows.

She’d set it up two weeks ago. Back before she and Vincent had had the mother of all fights. Back when they were still talking.

It had been two days since their tense talk over pizza at her kitchen table. Two days since she’d come out of her
bedroom after her conversations with Tom, and found him gone—as though he’d never been there in the first place.

They’d barely exchanged a word since.

No easy task, since they were partners and all, but they’d managed.

Jill had never been so miserable.

Worst of all, people had noticed. Tom had noticed. He’d practically given her an inquisition when he’d flown in last night. Elena had noticed when she’d shown up early to help Jill set up.

And now, of all people, it was Anthony who’d cornered her in her own home.

“Talk,” he said curtly. Like Vincent, nearly everything Anthony said came out like a near-bark. His marriage to the sweet Maggie had softened Vincent’s older brother slightly, but there was nothing soft about him right now as he stood glaring down at Jill.

She glared up at him with, “Were you just standing here waiting for me to come out of the bathroom?”

Anthony crossed his arms and said nothing. Waited.

She huffed and started to move around him, but he moved with her, blocking her from walking back into the kitchen.

“Look, Anth, I respect the big brother thing you have going on, but let’s remember that you’re not
my
brother, hmm?” she said, trying to dodge him again.

He moved once more, blocking her way as he spoke. “Just because we’re not related by blood doesn’t mean I don’t love you like a sister.”

Jill froze. None of the Moretti siblings were overly demonstrative, but it was particularly unnerving to hear the word “love” from the mouth of the taciturn eldest.

But Jill couldn’t deny the effect it had on her. Suddenly she found herself wanting to lean into Anth’s tallness and beg for a hug. Because the sibling love went both ways.

Still, it wasn’t the time. Or the place.

Instead she crossed her arms over her middle and cupped her elbows as she glanced to the right of Anthony toward her living room. “It’s nothing.”

“Jill.”

She gave a little sigh. Then she shifted so she could look around Anthony’s other side, since the man was entirely too tall for her to see
over
his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll play annoying little sister to your overbearing big brother. You want to know what’s crawled up my ass? It has to do with the fact that I have a certain bad-tempered homicide detective in my living room who can’t be bothered to look up from his cell phone for—”

“He’s looked up,” Anthony interupped.

Jill gave him a look. “Not that I’ve seen.”

“That’s because he only looks up when you’re looking away.”

Jill glanced again at Vincent where he sat perched on her bar stool in a long-sleeve black shirt, jeans, and a scowl. “I don’t think—”

“He’s been looking at
you
,” Anthony cut in.

Jill’s eyes flew back to Anth’s gaze, which was surprisingly patient.

“He’s always looking at you,” Anth said, his voice quieter this time.

“I—”

“What are you doing, Jill?” His voice was tired.

“Excuse me?” she asked with an incredulous little laugh.

“You know what I’m asking,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’m not saying that Tom’s not a great guy. I’m not saying that you’re not allowed to marry whomever you want—”

“Damn straight I’m allowed to marry whom I want!” Jill said, temper spiking.

She’d seen Anthony get high-and-mighty with his younger siblings before, but this was the first time she’d been on the receiving end. And she could totally see why the younger Morettis were always itching to strike at Anth, in all his control-freakish—

“Calm down,” he said, irritating her even further. “Don’t cause a scene.”

“
I’m
not the one who cornered someone else coming out of the bathroom.” Jill lowered her voice, but it came out as a hiss.

“Look, all I’m saying is that any idiot can see that something is going on with you and Vincent. Something’s been going on for years. If you care for him, at all, address it. And then let him go, Jill.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Me, let
him
go? Your fraternal observations are a bit shortsighted, Anth. I’ve been right in front of Vincent for years, and he waits until I decide to get married to start acting weird. If anyone needs to do the letting go, it’s him.”

“He’s trying,” Anthony said through gritted teeth. “What do you want from him? Any fool can see that he just wants you to be happy.”

Jill’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, he keeps saying that. But then he turns around and bites my head off about getting married.”

“It’s because you’re giving mixed signals,” Anth said, his voice quiet.

Her head snapped up. “I’m not.”

His look was sympathetic, and that made it all the worse. “You are. You know how I said that he looks at you every time you’re not paying attention? You do the same. And may I just say, you’ve been looking at Vin a hell of a lot more than you’ve been looking at Tom tonight.”

Jill felt her cheeks go hot. With anger.
How dare he!
With embarrassment.
Oh God, was he right?

And then shame.
Yes. Yes, he was absolutely right.

She closed her eyes and swayed just a little. “I don’t know what to do.”

Anth lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug. “You’ve got to choose.”

Jill licked her lips and gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know that it’s that simple. I mean it’s not like Vin even wants—”

She broke off, and her eyes found the quiet man sitting at her kitchen stool, looking so utterly alone.

“Take it from a brother that knows Vincent better than he realizes. He
wants
.”

Jill shook her head. She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to deal with any of it.

“I’m getting
married
, Anth,” she said.

“Fine,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “Just make sure that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want.”

He merely looked down at her, and Jill resisted the urge to shove him. “What is it with you Morettis waiting until now to have this conversation with me? You couldn’t have told me earlier that Vin might have wanted—something?”

“Would that have changed anything?” Anth asked.

Jill’s eyes went once more to her partner. Her best friend. Her everything.

She didn’t answer Anthony.

But her heart responded loud and clear.

Yes
. Yes, it would have changed
everything
.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her hand lifting to her mouth at the realization of what she had to do.

Anthony’s hand rested kindly on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Easy for him to say. He’s not the one that had to tell a perfectly nice man that
she wasn’t going to marry him
.

W
hen Tom texted to ask if they could cancel dinner reservations, and do room service in his hotel room instead, Jill had been torn between relief and alarm.

Relief, because it had been a crappy day. She and Vincent had endured yet another of those icy, bare-minimum-of-words exchanges. The high heels that had seemed like a great idea this morning were pinching like crazy. The thought of going to a fancy dinner, sitting across from Tom, and pretending that she was excited to talk about seating arrangements felt…

Unbearable.

But on the other hand, being alone in Tom’s hotel, just the two of them?

Also unbearable.

Jill told herself she didn’t take her sweet time paying the cab driver, but the truth was, she was dreading the evening that lay ahead.

It was definitely time to face the fact that something was seriously very, very wrong with the direction her life was headed.

Anthony had been right. She couldn’t marry one man while her head was all wrapped up in another.

It was time to put on her big girl panties and deal with it.

Tomorrow.

She’d deal with it tomorrow.

Right now all she wanted was a dinner—preferably something caloric and filled with carbs, and maybe a beer to take the edge off. And comfortable shoes. She could really,
really
go for comfortable shoes right about now.

The elevator ride up to the thirty-eighth floor was faster than Jill was ready for, and too soon, she found herself pasting on what she’d come to think of as her happy face.

At least tonight, she only had to do the happy face for Tom, and not an entire restaurant.

But in some ways that was worse. More chance of exposure.

More opportunity for him to finally open his eyes and see her and ask the dreaded question:

Is everything okay?

And no. No, everything was not okay.

Tom opened the door with his usual wide smile, but she noted that there were tired lines around his eyes. She’d always loved his smile lines, but today there was a hardness about them.

As though the smile had been forced into place for far too long.

She knew that feeling all too well. Knew what it was like to smile when you didn’t want to, to talk when you
wanted to be silent. To sparkle when you just wanted a freaking nap.

Too late, Jill wondered how long had that been going on. How long had she and Tom been failing to
see
each other?

She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to that question.

“I already ordered some food,” he said as Jill came inside and shrugged out of her jacket. “Hope that’s okay. Skipped lunch today, so I’m starving.”

“No problem,” she said distractedly, heading toward the window where the Brooklyn Bridge looked like something out of a picture.

“The view’s gorgeous,” she said.

He didn’t respond, and Jill turned around to find him watching her with a pensive look on his face.

Maybe he could read her after all.

She smiled. He smiled back.

Both smiles were—not
fake
, exactly—but weary.

Warning bells rang faintly in the back of Jill’s mind, but she seemed to lack the energy to get really, truly worried.

The arrival of room service stalled what was happening—or not happening—between her and Tom.

“Roast beef sandwich, or roast chicken?” Tom asked, pulling the silver lids off both plates.

She shrugged, pulling a fry off the plate with the sandwich and halfheartedly chewing it.

Objectively she knew she was hungry, but the faintest flicker of butterflies in her stomach made both food options look unappealing.

“You pick,” she said.

He nodded, but despite his earlier claims of hunger, didn’t seem in a rush for either plate.

The mood wasn’t awkward so much as… expectant. Like the calm before a storm you’ve always known was coming.

Jill sat on the bed, looking across the room at Tom as he leaned against the small hotel desk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He was still in his suit—always in a suit—although he’d ditched the tie.

But there were tension lines around his eyes and mouth. His knuckles were white where they gripped the desk.

Jill opened her mouth, wondering what she could say to make this all go away.

In the end, she didn’t have to. He spoke first.

“Whatever it is, you can just say it.”

Jill was suddenly really glad she hadn’t eaten more than the single French fry.

The gentle butterflies in her stomach turned into bats. Big ones.

“Tom—”

He blew out a long breath. “You don’t want to marry me, do you?”

She could only stare at him.

He smiled gently. “I’m not asking if you care about me. I’m not asking if you think I’m a great guy. I’m not even asking whether or not you think I’d be a great husband. I’m asking whether you want to
marry
me.”

She pushed her plate aside. “I
do
care about you. And I think we’d have a pretty damn content marriage. But I want more than that. Don’t you?”

He blew out a long breath and dipped his head.

“Yes. Yes, I do want more,” he replied softly.

Tom blew out a laugh and then dipped his head forward, staring at his hands clasped between his legs.

She scooted to sit beside him. “Are you mad?”

“Mad.” He stared at his hands for a while. “You know, I’m not? Embarrassed, maybe. But not mad. Not even hurt. And I guess that says it all right there, huh?”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe.”

“I think maybe I always knew it wasn’t right, but I kept trying…”

“Me too,” she said.

They were both silent for several seconds, and then Jill let out a little laugh at the absurdity of it all and flopped back on the bed.

“Do you get the sense we’re getting off way too easy here?” she asked. “We’re calling off a
wedding
.”

He leaned back so he was lying beside her, both of them on their backs, shoulders nearly touching, feet dangling off the end of a random hotel bed.

“True. Although, not gonna lie, right now my imagination is playing over scenarios in which you tell me you changed your mind.”

“Oh yeah?” She turned her head to look at him. “What do I sound like in your head?”

His voice pitched up several octaves. “Tom,
noo
, I was so wrong, Tom, my dearest beloved…”

Jill cracked up. “That’s terrible.”

He grinned. “Am I close?”

She rolled toward him, tucking her arm beneath her head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Only if I get to ask you something after.”

“Deal.” She took a deep breath. “Why did you propose? We barely knew each other—”

Tom stared up at the ceiling for several seconds. “It’s going to sound awful.”

“Try me.”

Tom blew out a long breath. “You have… you have this light. No, more like you
are
light. And when I saw you sitting across the bar that first day… well let’s just say it was very moth-to-flame.”

“Romantic,” she said teasingly. “But that explains why you approached me, not why you asked me out again, and again, and then proposed.”

He turned his head to look at her, seeming to search her face. There was fondness on his face, but no passion—had there ever been passion?

Did she care?

“It took me all of a week to realize that that light I saw in you? It was love. You have so much damn love to give, and I… I wanted some of it.”

Jill’s mouth parted in surprise. “Everyone has love to give.”

“Sure. But you have it in spades,” he said, his finger running along her nose. “And I think that’s why you said yes. Because that love was ready to burst out of you, and you needed to give it away.”

Jill stared at him. Was he right?

It felt… right. Sometimes she did feel like she was going to explode with… something.

“I guess you just answered
your
question,” she said lightly. “Why I said yes.”

Tom shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“No?”

He rolled onto his back, linking his hands behind his head. “I was going to ask what’s going on with you and Vincent Moretti. I mean, really.”

Jill’s heart stopped. “Nothing! Tom, you have to believe—”

“I know you didn’t cheat on me, Jill,” he said, his voice quiet. “But you can’t tell me that there’s not something there.”

She swallowed. “But… I don’t—we don’t—”

She flung her arms over her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Jill felt the mattress move as Tom moved back into a seated position, and after several seconds, she peeked out from under the safety of her arms and saw him staring out the darkened window with a thoughtful look on his face.

She rolled upward, sitting beside him. Nudged his knee with hers. “What are you thinking?”

He sighed and stood, looking like he wanted to pace, but instead merely looked down at her, hands shoved in his pocket.

“I think you should be careful.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Of…?”

“Vincent.”

“He would never hurt me,” she said without hesitating.

“Not intentionally, no, but…”

Her foot snuck out, tapping against his shin gently. “You called me here to dump me. Don’t hold back now.”

His smile was humorless. “You’ve known Vincent for years.”

“Right…”

His blue eyes were steady on hers. “How many of those years have you been in love with him?”

Jill’s heart leaped in her chest. “I’m not—it’s not—”

“Regardless,” he said, his voice gentle, “the timing of his attentions seems off to me. I’m not saying he doesn’t care for you, but if you move forward with him, be very
sure this isn’t a case of him wanting what he can’t have. He’s had plenty of time to make his move, and he waits until you have a ring on your finger.”

His words struck a nerve. Sharply.

The truth between Tom’s words was unavoidable.

If Vincent had feelings for her—and the “if” was incredibly real—why now?

What if all the hot looks lately were classic territorial male? Uninterested in a woman right in front of him until another man wanted her.

She swallowed.

She’d think of that later. Much later.

But for now…

Jill stood as she twisted the diamond ring off her finger and held it out to Tom.

He hesitated a moment before extending his palm. “It doesn’t feel right that I take this back.”

Jill smiled a little as she dropped it into his waiting hand. “Trust me. It’s much more wrong for me to keep it.”

They both looked at the glittering ring for several seconds before his fingers closed around it.

Their eyes met, and then incredibly—they laughed. A real, honest-to-God belly laugh of two people consumed with a heady sense of relief.

“We don’t have to figure this out right this second, but logistically, how does this work?”

Jill blew out a breath. “I’ll take care of canceling the caterer and the venue, but in terms of telling people…”

“You let me know when you’re ready,” he said quietly.

Jill smiled in gratitude. By telling people, she had meant telling Vin, and she suspected Tom knew it. Was letting her handle things her way.

“Actually…” Tom dug his hand into his pocket and came out with the ring. “Keep it for now. Until you’re ready to tell the world. Then you can give it back.”

“Tom—”

He gently pulled her left hand toward him, slipping the ring on. It was a very different gesture than when he’d done it weeks ago, but no less sweet.

“You’re a ridiculously good guy,” she said, leaning her cheek against the door as he opened it for her.

He winked. “I know it. And trust me, there are moments when I wish that light I mentioned—I wish it were meant for me, but…” He shrugged.

Jill gave him a sad smile before she lifted to her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.

“Good-bye, Tom.”

He smiled, managing to look completely unperturbed after just being dumped. “See ya, Henley.”

It was exactly what she would have done.

She shook her head and smiled as she turned away, realizing now what she should have known all along: that she and Tom were practically the same person.

And it had taken her far too long to realize that she didn’t want a male version of herself. She wanted…

She wanted her opposite.

She wanted
Vin
.