Semua Bab The Holidate Pact: Bab 11 - Bab 20

SLOANE I changed four times. Black dress: too funeral. Red dress: too try-hard. Jeans: never even left the hanger. Emerald sweater dress: too Christmas. At 5:47 PM I stood in my bra and tights, staring at the simple black sheath I had already rejected twice. My hands were shaking. Actually shaking. Over a fake date. I put the black dress on anyway. It slid over my skin like cold water, settled into place, and suddenly I looked like someone who had never panicked in her life. The mirror lied beautifully. I did the makeup that takes twenty minutes to look like five. Hair down. Earrings that cost more than my first car but were small enough that no one would notice. Armor, all of it. 6:45. Shoes on. Keys in hand. Heart trying to punch its way out of my chest. The drive to his building took exactly twelve minutes. I know because I counted every red light like a rosary. I practiced introductions out loud in the empty car. “This is Jackson, my boyfriend.” “Have you

The air in my parents' living room turned to lead.Nobody moved. Jackson's hand on my knee had gone from warm to stone. Veronica stood in the doorway like she owned it. Her smile was all teeth.Jennifer looked between them, confused. "Wait. You two know each other?"The silence stretched. I could hear the clock on the mantle ticking. The TV murmuring in the background. Someone's kid crying upstairs.Jackson cleared his throat. "Veronica. Hi. Didn't expect to see you here.""Clearly." Her eyes slid to me. Assessed. Dismissed. "And you are?"I stood. Extended my hand. "Sloane. Jackson's girlfriend."Her handshake was cold. Quick. Her fingers were all bone."Girlfriend. How nice."Jennifer bounced on her heels. "This is so crazy! You two know each other? What a small world!""We've met." Veronica's voice was flat. "Briefly.""More than briefly," Jackson said quietly.The room absorbed that. Peter leaned forward. Susan refilled her wine. My mother appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray

The kiss was supposed to be three seconds.Contract approved. Closed mouth. Quick press of lips for appearance sake. Professional. Clean. Easy.It wasn't.Midnight struck. The room erupted in noise. Horns and cheers and that song everyone sings once a year and forgets the words to.Jackson's lips met mine.Soft at first. Testing. His hand on my face was gentle. His thumb traced my cheekbone.Three seconds passed.Neither of us pulled away.His other hand tightened on my waist. Pulled me closer. My fingers found his shirt. Twisted into the fabric.The kiss deepened.His mouth opened slightly. Mine followed. Not thinking. Just feeling.Heat flooded through me. Started where his hand pressed against my spine and spread everywhere. My pulse hammered in my ears. Louder than the music. Louder than the chaos around us.His tongue brushed my bottom lip. I made a sound. Small. Desperate. He swallowed it.Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.Someone whooped nearby. The sound broke through.We pulled a

SLOANEJackson leaned back. Ran both hands through his hair. Looked anywhere but at me."Veronica and I met at a qualifying tournament in Florida," he started. "Two years ago. March."I wrapped my hands tighter around my mug. Waited."We were both playing. Both stressed. Both away from home. We got drinks after the first round. Then dinner. Then..." He shrugged. "You know how it goes.""I don't, actually."He met my eyes. "Fast. It went fast. Too fast. By the end of the week we were... together. Whatever that means when you're living out of hotels.""Did you love her?"The question hung there.He was quiet for a long time. "I thought I did. Or I thought I should. She was beautiful, talented, understood the golf life. On paper, it made sense.""And off paper?""Off paper, she wanted things I wasn't ready for. A house. Marriage. Kids. The whole script.""And you ran.""I ran." He looked down at his coffee. "She deserved better than a text. I know that. But I couldn't face her. Couldn't

JACKSONI was lying to myself and I knew it.I kept telling Sloane that nothing had changed. I told myself the same thing every morning while shaving. I repeated it while teaching Mrs. Henderson how to correct her golf slice during yet another lesson.Nothing changed.Except everything had changed.I could not stop thinking about the kiss. The small sound she made. The way her fingers twisted in my shirt as if holding on. The way the moment stretched far beyond what we planned.I could not stop thinking about our texts.I stared at those words for hours before replying. I wrote and deleted responses multiple times. I finally sent something honest but careful.Then I spent three days in Indiana hitting golf balls and trying not to check my phone constantly.It did not work.---**January 7th, 4:00 PM**I was at the club giving a lesson to a hedge fund manager who paid heavily to hear his grip needed adjustment again.I instructed him to rotate his left hand more until it felt right.He