Page 42 of Last First Kiss

Until today.

Today, they’re visiting prospective venues. The four of them.

While virtual walk-throughs of event spaces isn’t uncommon, Jordan can’t take that chance with Sam and Amy. They need to see firsthand what they’re committing to. Envision the biggest day of their lives there. Fall in love with the ambience. And time is short.

Jordan pointedly ignores Jamie’s presence. He concentrates on what architectural motifs interest Sam. What features light up Amy’s face.

Jamie’s not the client. He’s just there.

All day.

Jordan found three venues available the weekend Sam’s parents insisted on.

First: the Rigel. It’s just north of the city. Spacious and sleekwith large ballrooms perfect for the number of guests the McClintocks anticipate, and 24 Carter Gold has a great relationship with the staff. For the last two years, they’ve hosted the mayor’s Valentine’s Day gala here.

Sam appreciates the cinematic scale of everything.

Amy likes the vision board Jordan shows her on his iPad.

Jamie’s mostly quiet. Not that Jordan notices. Just like he doesn’t notice how Jamie’s styled his hair today—brushed back so none of his wavy bangs curl over his forehead. It’s too put together. Too unnatural.

Jordan prefers the messy look. Like Jamie’s perpetually rolling out of bed into his daily activities. Like he wants you to know he doesn’t care about his appearance because he’s so much more than that.

But, fine, whatever. Jamie can wear his hair however he likes.

Jordan doesn’t care.

He pivots to Amy and Sam. “So, what are we thinking?”

“It works,” Sam says. He squeezes Amy’s hand. “Babe?”

Her nose wrinkles with indecision. She takes a quick peek at Jamie.

“Go with your instinct,” he tells her.

Amy nods. “Can we see the other two options?”

“Of course,” Jordan replies, leading them out while keeping a respectable distance from Jamie.

By late afternoon, they’re inside the Golden Rose Hotel, a historic landmark carved into the heart of Midtown Atlanta. It’s sophisticated and luxe. Rich colors, shimmering crystal chandeliers, classic touches in every detail. The kind of timeless Southern glam Jordan’s certain the McClintocks’ crowd will adore. It’ll also look great in photos, especially forPeople.

Jordan escorts them into the Grand Ballroom.

Sam whistles. “Nice!”

He strolls through, snapping photos with his phone.

Amy follows silently.

“Very—” Jamie pauses, rubbing his chin. It’s still bare. No sign of shadowy stubble. “Posh?”

He looks at Jordan. “Is that the word Braylon would use?”

Jordan doesn’t answer. His attention is on Amy.

She studies the Parisian-inspired art on the high ceilings. The gold accents along white columns. How the afternoon sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jordan tries to imagine what she sees.