Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Jessica’s POV

I spent the whole day avoiding Aaron, keeping just close enough so no one could truthfully say we weren’t together, yet far enough that I didn’t have to meet his dismissive eyes.

If I could’ve locked myself away in that luxurious bedroom and cried into the silk sheets until this entire oppressive reunion was over, I would have. But our little game had rules, and despite everything, I wasn’t about to be the one who blew our cover.

By late afternoon, everyone spilled out into the vast garden again.

The picnic tables were laden; a feast of roast lamb, charred grilled peaches, and rosemary focaccia–things that smelled like absolute heaven. But my stomach stayed clenched tight and unresponsive.

Sadness, I realized, is a hell of an appetite killer.

No one was paying me any mind, for which I was grateful. It made it easier to cling to my isolation; one little conversation, one misplaced question, and I felt certain I would crack into a desperate sob.

I settled beneath the ancient oak tree, watching Aaron’s cousins and their partners chatter and set up for whatever post–dinner game they had planned.

Aaron, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. The last time I’d seen him was hours ago, just before the picnic, when his grandfather’s thunderous voice had summoned him away.

I wonder what they’re talking about. Those two have always been a volatile mix.

Why couldn’t Kennedy just let Aaron pursue what he wanted? It was his life, his dream–as long as it was lucrative, what difference did it make if he was a basketball star or hockey star?

My admittedly myopic mind couldn’t untangle the complexities of their dynastic pride, so I shook my head, clearing the frustration.

I turned my focus instead to the breathtaking canvas above; the sun was melting into the horizon, bleeding orange and rose across a sky so wide it felt like the world had opened its arms just to show off.

I’d never seen a sunset this beautiful in the city; here at the Tyrone estate, with the rolling hills behind it, it looked like someone had spilled paint across the clouds.

“You look lost. Missing that jerk of a boyfriend?”

The sudden, close voice startled me, sending a jolt through my chest. I glanced up to find David–the cousin from last night who had given the brazen compliment–standing over me.

He had a natural, slightly lopsided grin, and his bright blonde hair was perfectly scattered across his forehead, perpetually looking like he’d just run a hand through it.

Boyfriend. The word was a strange cocktail of ache and thrilling fantasy.

I didn’t answer him verbally. I offered only a small, polite smile before looking back at the sunset.

He sat down gracefully beside me and crossed one leg over the other. The brief silence that followed felt peaceful, and I hoped it would last, but he broke it swiftly.

“So tell me the truth, Jess. How the hell did Aaron talk you into dating him? Because I distinctly remember him, drunk off his ass, declaring, ‘I’m done with women. All of them. Every last one. Even the ones not born yet.’

David dropped his voice into a dramatic growl.

“You know, I was genuinely scared he was going to start drilling some dude’s butt hole just to spite her.”

The sudden burst of vulgar absurdity caught me completely off guard. I laughed–unrestrained and unplanned–the sound escaping me so forcefully it actually hurt my ribs.

I didn’t know if it was his deadpan expression, the witty tone, or the sheer relief of finally letting go of some tension, but I couldn’t stop.

I turned to him, still shaking with laughter, and found him smiling broadly, clearly proud he had broken through my gloom. I was grateful for it, regardless. I hadn’t genuinely smiled all day.

“Are you homophobic, David?” I asked, raising a playful brow, wiping a tear from my eye.

He chuckled, running his fingers quickly through his hair.

“Fuck, no. But Aaron? That man is aggressively heterosexual. Like, the poster child for straight. I can’t even picture him holding another dude’s hand without looking personally offended.”

He explained with such conviction that I totally understood his point.

I shook my head, still smiling. “He really said he was done with all women?”

“He swore on our grandfather’s grave,” David elaborated, shaking his head. “The old man’s not even cold yet.” That casual, morbid remark was exactly what I needed, and I found myself laughing again, a genuine, joyful sound.

“Yup!” he replied, popping the ‘p‘ with an audible snap. “I saw it coming, anyway. We all warned him, but he was blinded by ‘love. And I bet she’s still screwing some dude despite being with Eric. People like her don’t change that easily.”

His gaze flicked over my face like he was trying to memorise it.

“You’re beautiful, Jessica. And that laugh? It’s the best sound I’ve heard all weekend. When you smile, your eyes actually light up–like someone turned a switch. You should do it more often.”

I swear my heart seized–not stopped, but clenched in my chest. No one had ever spoken anything that gentle, that specific, to me in my entire life. Not once. David hadn’t just given a vague compliment; he had seen me.

My mouth parted, desperate to form a word of thanks, but the sound was trapped in my throat.

I just stared, my cheeks burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the setting sun.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. Flis fingers lingered for half a second.

“What’s going on here?”

Aaron’s voice cracked through the air.

David’s hand dropped instantly, but he didn’t flinch, maintaining a posture of casual ease with a clearly amused glint in his eye. I, on the other hand, nearly jumped out of my skin.

Aaron stood a few feet away, his silhouette dark and imposing against the fiery sunset, which painted harsh, angular lines across his face.

His arms were crossed over his chest, a barrier of muscle and disapproval.

One brow was arched so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline, and his eyes, those stupidly gorgeous brown eyes were narrowed, stormy, and fixed on David like he was precisely calculating the trajectory required to throw him into the nearest koi pond.

It looked a lot like jealousy. Raw, undeniable jealousy.

And the absolute worst part? A tiny, traitorous piece of my heart–the piece that ignored every single rejection–soared with the desperate, thrilling hope that’s exactly what it was.