Page 58 of First in Line

“You should go get your trophy,” I insist.

“They’ll wait.”

“The whole podium ceremony will wait?”

He chuckles. “Yes. It’s not like they can do it without the driver who came out on top.”

Again, the way he makes me a priority has my emotions in a frenzy.

“Will you be coming back to these parts anytime soon?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t think I’m pathetic.

“Yes, but I’m not sure when. I have some contractual events I can’t get out of in London.”

“Monaco is in a month, right? It’s a big one, I’m sure you have a lot to prepare for it.”

There must be something in my voice because he feels the need to say, “I’ll try coming back as soon as I can, Evie.”

“Don’t rush for me. I have a busy life, remember? I can occupy myself for a few weeks without you.”

“Right. And you have a terribly boring fiancé for your downtime.”

My smile falls, and my heart clenches. He doesn’t know about Nathan. Of course he doesn’t. I didn’t tell him, and it’s not like any of the people who know would think of telling him.

Once more, someone calls for him. “You should really go.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Let me know when you’re around, okay?”

“Will do, princess.”

He hangs up, leaving me alone in the busy parking lot of the bar.

What am I doing? What arewedoing? What do these calls, and visits, and dinner dates mean? I’m trying so hard not to let this become more than a friendly reunion between exes, but maybe we can’t help ourselves. We’re drawn to one another like moths to a flame. We’ve always been that way.

But it doesn’t work. We tried. We failed. Hard.

I’m conflicted the entire drive home. My evening routine happens while I ponder the whole time. And as I sit at my vanity table to apply my night cream, my attention keeps drifting to the jewelry box.

I manage to hold back, but only until I’m done. That’s when I grab the box and begin shuffling through its contents. I find the earrings first, the little diamond studs he got me to celebrate our first year together. Letting myself be sentimental, I put them on, replacing the small hoops I was wearing. Then I look again until I find it. My wedding band.

It feels wrong to slip it on, especially since I was wearing Nathan’s engagement ring up until last week. So instead, I look at it, reacquainting myself with its design. I didn’t want a plain band, but most of the options they had at the chapel were tacky and tasteless. All but this one: two slim bands woven into one another, and tiny little white gems spread along them.

To this day, I’m still not sure if it’s gold or real diamonds. Given the price we paid for it, I doubt it. But at least it never turned my finger green, and that’s all I ever needed.

Jackson was so nervous that day but still determined. His hands were clammy in mine, and they only trembled a little as he slipped the modest ring onto my finger. I remember looking at it, thinking I’d never take it off. Not one day of my life.

And now, it sits at the bottom of my messy jewelry box, discarded and forgotten.

Sensing more of those pesky emotions coming, I return it to its place, as well as the other things I took out.

This isn’t happening. Nothing is getting rekindled. I walked out on that marriage for a reason, and it still stands true.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Jackson