us from last night, and beneath it, a caption.
Nashville attorney Jackson Healey and his date, Miss Olivia Stuart, enjoy a dance at the annual Children’s Hospital Benefit Gala hosted by Healey and Associates.
“Wow.”
Jackson sits down next to me. “Sorry. I probably should’ve warned you. The press loves to take pictures at the gala. We don’t mind, because it’s good publicity for the event, which leads to more donations to the hospital.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Just surprised, I guess.”
He gazes at the image of the two of us.
“They always take my picture,” he says softly. “But I think this is the first time I’ve actually looked happy in the photo. And that’s because you were there.”
Jackson carefully folds the paper and tosses it aside before taking my hand in his.
“Why didn’t you stay with us last night?”
My eyes flicker to Ryder, who’s dozed off while watching his movie.
“Because it was an emotional and confusing night. I just needed some space, I guess.”
“Confusing how?”
“Really?”
He bows his head. “Sorry. I just . . . it was such an amazing night, Olivia. Or it was for me.”
“It was for me, too.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I can’t believe he’s going to make me say it first.
“I’m feeling . . . things. Things I shouldn’t be feeling.”
With a soft smile, he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“I feel them, too.”
“But that doesn’t make it right. We shouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“Why not?”
“Seriously? Do I really have to explain this to you?”
He shakes his head. “Come with me.”
Taking me by the hand, Jackson leads me out onto the terrace.
“Leave the door open. In case Ryder wakes up,” I tell him.
Jackson nods, and I walk over to the ledge. Peering down, I fix my gaze on the people below us, so small and completely unaware that I’m above them, completely losing my mind. And my heart.
“Olivia,” he says softly, “do you know how many years I’ve been miserable? How many black-tie events I’ve absolutely despised because I was so unhappy? Last night was amazing. You are amazing.”
His sweet words warm my heart, but the fact remains that nothing can happen. Not yet.
“You’re a married man.”
“I haven’t been married for a very long time.”
“Maybe not in your heart. But legally . . . biblically . . . you are married.”
“And I’m in the process of legally changing that. Biblically . . . well, I think God knows how hard I tried to make my marriage work. And I don’t think He expects me to stay married to someone who chose to leave me and my son.”
While that’s all true, I still can’t forget the most important piece in this very complicated puzzle.
“What about Ryder? What does he expect?”
“Ryder loves you.”
“But he also loves his mother. Doesn’t he?”
Before he can answer, the living room phone echoes through the air, making us both jump.
How odd. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the landline ring.
“Should you get that?”
“Let the machine pick up,” he says. “Olivia, I refuse to pretend that last night didn’t happen. I can’t go back to that place. I can’t go back to pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do.”
“I care about you, too. I truly do.”
He smiles.
“So, we’ll take our time,” he says. “I will try, somehow, to keep my hands to myself. But I have to admit . . . now that we’ve kissed, all I can think about is kissing you again.”
Jackson brushes his nose against mine, and because I’m completely weak, I close my eyes. He tenderly kisses me, and for just a moment, I forget about the little boy sleeping peacefully in the living room.
With a heavy sigh, I pull away and bury my face against his neck. Jackson wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly.
“What are we gonna do?” I whisper against his skin.
But he hears me.
“I know what I’m going to do,” Jackson says. “I’m gonna call Marcus.”
“Marcus?”
“My divorce attorney.”
I nod.
“You’re right,” he says, holding me close. “Nothing can happen between us. Not while I’m married. If for no other reason than if Natasha’s lawyer even suspects I’m being unfaithful, they could try to drag this out even more. That’s the last thing I want.”
“Me, too. So we need to keep our distance until your divorce is final. It’s the right thing to do, for everyone involved.”
“Agreed,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “But . . . is kissing okay?”
Honestly, it shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be kissing a married man.
But that ship has sailed.
Besides, I don’t think I have