It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for one more night but before he could get the words out she had turned and started packing her things. He watched her fold her clothes and pack them neatly into her bag. Every trace of her was being removed from the suite.
‘I’m getting a lift back to London with one of the photographers,’ she said once she was done. ‘I thought it would be easier all round.’
‘Is the photographer male?’ The question jumped out before Jake could stop it and it had the big, green-eyed monster written all over it.
His question dangled in the silence for a long beat.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I’ve known him for years.’
Jaz had known him for years and look what had happened, Jake thought with a sickening churning in his gut.
She stepped up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Jake. See you at Julius’s wedding.’
Wedding.
Jake clenched his jaw as the door closed on her exit. That word should be damned well banned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JAZ WAS WORKING on Miranda’s dress a few days later when the bell on the back of her shop door tinkled. She looked up and saw Emma Madden coming in, dressed in her school uniform. ‘Hi, Emma,’ she said, smiling as she put down the bodice she was sewing freshwater pearls on. ‘How lovely to see you. How are you?’
Emma savaged her bottom lip with her teeth. ‘Is it because of me?’
Jaz frowned. ‘Is what because of you?’
‘Your break-up with Jake,’ she said. ‘It’s because of me, isn’t it? I made such a stupid nuisance of myself and now you’ve broken up and it’s all my fault.’
Jaz came out from behind the work counter and took the young girl’s hands in hers. ‘Nothing’s your fault, sweetie. Jake and I decided we weren’t ready to settle down. We’ve gone back to being friends.’
Emma’s big, soulful eyes were misty. ‘But you’re so perfect for each other. I can’t bear the thought of him having anyone else. You bring out the best in him. My stepdad says so too.’
Jaz gave Emma’s hands a little squeeze before she released them. ‘It’s sweet of you to say so but some things are not meant to be.’
‘But aren’t you...devastated?’ Emma asked, scrunching up her face in a frown.
Jaz didn’t want to distress the girl unnecessarily. No point telling Emma she cried every night when she got into her cold bed. On. Her. Own. No point saying how she couldn’t get into a lift without her insides quivering in erotic memory. No point saying how every time she ate a piece of toast or drank orange juice she thought of Jake helping her through her fashion show nerves at the expo. ‘I’m fine about it,’ she said. ‘Really. It’s for the best.’
Emma sighed and then started looking at the dresses on display. She touched one reverently. ‘Did you really make this from scratch?’
‘Yup,’ Jaz said. ‘What do you think? Not too OTT?’
‘No, it’s beautiful,’ Emma said. ‘I would love to be able to design stuff like this.’
‘Have you ever done any sewing?’
‘I did some cross-stitch at school but I’d love to be able to make my own clothes,’ Emma said. ‘I sometimes get ideas for stuff... Does that happen to you?’
‘All the time,’ Jaz said. ‘See that dress over there with the hoop skirt? I got the idea from the garden at Ravensdene. There’s this gorgeous old weeping birch down there that looks exactly like a ball gown.’
Emma traced the leaf-like pattern of the lace. ‘Wow... You’re amazing. So talented. So smart and beautiful. So everything.’
So single, Jaz thought with a sharp pang. ‘Hey, do you fancy a part-time job after school or at weekends? I could do with a little help and I can give you some tips on pattern-making and stuff.’
Emma’s face brightened as if someone had turned a bright light on inside her. ‘Do you mean it? Really?’
‘Sure,’ Jaz said. ‘Who wants to work for a fast-food chain when you can work for one of London’s up-and-coming bridal designers?’
Take that, Imposter Syndrome.
Three weeks later...
‘Jake, can I get you another beer?’ Flynn Carlyon asked on his way to the bar at Julius’s stag night. ‘Hey, you haven’t finished that one—you’ve barely taken a mouthful. You not feeling well or something?’
Jake forced a quick smile. ‘No, I’m good.’
He wasn’t good. He was sick. Not physically but emotionally. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent sleep. Well, he could, but remembering the last time he’d made love with Jaz caused him even more emotional distress.