Game Changer

by Kelly Jamieson

  In the end, Molly and I are triumphant. It’s the usual for us, but this time I have to give her all the credit. I like sex, but apparently I’m not as well informed about it as she is. The only question we got wrong was the average number of sex partners for men, which is seven and less than I guessed.

  “You’re quite the sexpert,” I say on the drive back to the resort later.

  “Ha ha. Apparently Steve didn’t think so.”

  I can’t stop the disgusted grunt that emerges from my throat. “He’s an idiot.”

  “Well, you don’t know my sexpertise in bed,” she points out. “It’s one thing to know trivia, but something else to put it into practice.” She almost sounds sad.

  Man, Chucky did a number on her.

  I don’t want to think about her sexpertise in bed. She’s beautiful and smells delicious and she’s sexy as fuck. I’d be only too happy to…stop.

  If Chucky didn’t appreciate her skills, that’s his loss.

  “I’m surprised at how many women orgasm from anal sex,” I comment.

  Why? Why am I still talking about sex?

  “It’s not surprising,” she says. “I mean, when you think about it…” Her voice trails off. “Never mind.”

  Yeah, this is probably not a good topic of conversation. Do I really want to know what she knows about anal sex?

  “Well, we’re still the champs,” I joke.

  “Yes, we are! And I had fun tonight. I like your family.”

  “I had fun, too, surprisingly. Things aren’t as tense as I remember.”

  “That’s good.”

  “They also seemed to like you. So thanks for coming.”

  Back in the room, we arrange the pillow barrier down the middle of the bed, although I’ve noticed Molly has shifted it toward herself to give me more room. She’s sweet like that.

  When the lights are out and we’re both under the covers and I’m definitely not thinking about her bare legs and braless tits so close to me, she murmurs, “What’s up for tomorrow?”

  “I’m gonna go see Grandpa again.” I pause. “You can come with me if you want.”

  She doesn’t reply right away. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You won’t be interfering.”

  I hear a little huff and sense her smile. “Okay. G’night.”

  “Night, Flynn.”

  “When are you two getting married?”

  I freeze in place and slide my gaze over to Molly, who’s wide-eyed, then back to Grandpa. “We’re not getting married.”

  “You have to get married.” Grandpa’s eyebrows knit together.

  I flash Molly an apologetic grimace, but she smiles. “It’s okay,” she mouths. She sits next to Grandpa on the couch. “We’re just friends, Mr. Wynn. I mean, Bob.”

  “Men and women can’t be friends,” he says. “You can’t be friends with someone you’re attracted to, and men are attracted to all woman, so the idea that you can be friends without sex is ridiculous.”

  I’m honestly speechless at this. My eyes flick over to Molly who also appears dumbstruck.

  “And look at you.” He gestures to Molly. “Of course Jackson is attracted to you.”

  “Oh my God,” I mutter, dropping my face into my hand. “Grandpa.”

  “Um, well, thank you,” Molly says.

  The biggest problem with all this? He’s right. I am attracted to Molly. The more time I spend with her, the more I see how gorgeous she is, inside and out. She’s fun and smart and adventurous, also thoughtful and caring.

  I think I already knew those things about her, but when a woman belongs to someone else, you don’t let yourself feel the attraction. But now…I feel it.

  Damn.

  “He never did have much of a filter,” Chelsea whispers to me. “But now it’s totally gone. Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  Grandpa is telling a story, I think it might be about when he met Chelsea…or maybe Grandma? It’s not entirely clear, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Molly’s listening, smiling, and making appropriate comments.

  “And then she went outside, and around, and I waited, and that was so much fun,” he says.

  My heart contracts painfully. There are times he’s still with it and times he’s not, and it’s so fucking sad.

  Chelsea returns from the kitchen, setting a plate of cookies on the table. Molly eagerly reaches for one, and offers the plate to Bob, who shakes his head.

  “How’s your mom doing, Jackson?” Chelsea asks me.

  “She’s doing great. She has a book coming out later this year.”

  “Oh, wow! That’s amazing!” Chelsea beams.

  “Yeah. It’s about achieving high performance and staying humble, I think.” I add for Molly’s benefit, “My mom’s a sports psychologist.”

  She nods. “I think that’s so cool.”

  “Your mom is such a smart woman,” Chelsea says. “It was nice to see her at the wedding last year.”

  “She’s talking about moving here,” I say. “I think she has a job offer from the L.A. Cougars.”

  “That would be a big change from Toronto.”

  Grandpa isn’t saying anything, just smiling and nodding. He’s totally faking understanding. Which is also heart-rending.

  By the time we leave, Molly has Grandpa telling her what a beautiful girl she is and she has to come back. I see the hint of sorrow in her smile, but she nods and agrees, and even though she’ll never see him again, I know she’s right to say that because he probably won’t understand if she says no, and it makes him happy and that’s what matters.

  “Thank you for being so kind to him,” I say once we’re in the car.

  She gives me a weird look. “You don’t have to thank me for that. He’s a wonderful man. I wish I’d met him when he could tell more stories. I bet he was fascinating.”

  “Yeah. He was.”

  “You still have those memories,” she says softly. “You always will.”

  “Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I wish I had more, though. I wish…”

  “What?”

  “Dad and Uncle Matt kind of spoiled my relationship with Grandpa. I wish that didn’t happen.”

  “Ah. Yeah. I get it. But…”

  Now it’s my turn. “What?”

  “Well, your relationship with your Grandpa is between you and him.”

  I huff. “True. But I felt like I needed to be on my dad’s side, you know?”

  “Even though you and your dad don’t get along.”

  Jesus. This woman. She’s always fucking right and it’s exasperating, but also…she’s right. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. My dad’s my dad, and I…care about him and also I care about Grandpa.”

  She smiles.

  “And it’s hard not to get down about what’s happening to him, but he had an amazing life, and we’ve all been lucky to be part of it. Even though at times he was stubborn and hard to get along with.” I pause. “I wonder how much Dad and Uncle Mark regret all the negativity.”

  “Did you talk to your dad about that when you went out for lunch?”

  “No.”

  “Jax, you should have.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m a coward.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s not easy talking about the things that have hurt us. But…”

  “What?”

  “It’s none of my business. Sorry.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “It seems like your relationship with your dad is distant.”

  “Yeah. That’s a fair comment.”

  “Do you want more? Do you want to be closer?”

  “Not really.”

  She blows out a puff of air. “Jax.”

  “He cheated on my mom.”

  Her head whips around. I glance sideways at her as I drive. “Oh,” she says.

  I sigh. “Yeah. I found out by accident. That was
why they split up. Mom’s never said a bad word about him, but I know she was hurt by it. And I fucking hate it.”

  She nibbles her bottom lip as Southern California scenery flashes by outside the car. “Do you have questions about that?”

  “Questions?” My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Like, why he cheated?”

  “Yeah. I guess. Maybe if you talked to him about it, you’d understand.”

  “Wait, you want me to understand? Forgive him? You’re the one who left your fiancé because he cheated on you. You couldn’t get past that.” My voice has risen, and I have to take a long breath.

  “True,” she says quietly. “I’m not saying there’s ever any excuse for cheating, but…oh hell. You’re right—I probably do need to talk to Steve about it.”

  Wow, that was a quick spinorama.

  “For closure. Understanding. I probably need that to move on. And I think you probably do, too, with your dad.”

  Well, shit. At least she’s not a hypocrite, but she has a point. I did say that about talking to Steve. I better not be a hypocrite either.

  “I guess I could talk to Dad again while I’m here,” I say gruffly.

  12

  Molly

  It serves me right for trying to give Jax advice. As I was telling him he should talk to his dad, I realized he’d told me the exact same thing about Steve. And I had to admit he was right.

  I think about this as I lay by the pool. Jax is golfing with Harrison, Asher and JP. Tomorrow he’s having lunch with his sister, and the next day he and his dad are taking a helicopter ride to Catalina Island, which sounds amazing. Probably a helicopter isn’t a good place to have an intimate discussion, though. But maybe they’ll have a chance to talk when they get to the island. Assuming Jax doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures; I know he’s looking forward to that.

  Likely because he feels guilty, he’s going to take me whale watching on Sunday, our second last day here. I’m so excited about that! And I don’t mind hanging out by myself for a while as he spends time with his family, which is what he came here for.

  Also it gives me a chance to think about a lot of things. Like talking to Steve. Ugh. And how mixed up I felt when Bob Wynn talked about Jax and me getting married and being attracted to each other. My belly got a tight, twisted feeling because I shouldn’t be attracted to Jax. He was making it patently clear that we’re just friends. But sometimes, I catch him looking at me, especially at the pool or the beach or sometimes in the hotel room…and there was the night we got here and what he was doing in bed…

  I flip onto my stomach and kick my feet a couple of times in frustration.

  Maybe this was a mistake. I just wanted to get out of Chicago. I can’t be thinking about Jax in bed with me…which he has been. But I keep thinking about pushing those pillows out of the way and sliding up next to him and feeling all that hot, bare skin against mine.

  Oh God. I let out a little whimper, my face buried in my arms, my belly fluttering with inappropriate lust.

  Don’t go there. Do. Not. Go. There.

  I roll over again, jump up off the lounger and stride to the pool. A quick dip will clear my mind. I jump right into the deep end, letting the cool water close over my head. All sound is muffled briefly as I sink down, then bob back up. I suck in air and shake water off my face as I break the surface, then start a leisurely breaststroke across the pool.

  I should think about Steve. The man I loved. Love. The man I was going to marry. It feels like a year ago, which is weird. What do I want to say to him? What do I want to ask him? Why did he cheat on me? Why wasn’t I enough?

  I inhale a nose full of water and choke. I grab onto the side of the pool and hang there coughing, gasping for air, my sinuses burning. Shit. I can’t start feeling sorry for myself again. I thought I was past this. It’s not my fault he cheated.

  Easy to say. Not so easy to believe, sadly.

  When I’m over my near-drowning, I resume swimming, switching to a crawl and determinedly doing lap after lap. I’m not sure if I’m punishing or distracting myself.

  It’s not that I’m blaming myself, but it’s possible there are things I did in my relationship with Steve that contributed to the problem. I need to keep an open mind about that so I can learn and grow.

  I haul myself out of the pool, breathless, and stagger over to my lounge chair where I collapse. I stare up at the blue sky, my chest heaving.

  Steve’s in Europe, enjoying our honeymoon with someone else. He won’t be back in Chicago until early July. That will give me time to get my stuff from his condo. My friends will come help me pack up and move them back to my apartment. Now it feels lucky that I haven’t yet been able to sublet it.

  Then when he’s back, I’ll have to face him. All I feel is a sense of calm resignation.

  I can do it.

  Jax

  I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than ask Dad why he cheated on Mom.

  So I’m waiting for the right moment on this little excursion to Catalina Island.

  We leave from Long Beach. The helicopter ride is sick. I’ve never been on a chopper before, and I love it. I’ve got my camera and a few lenses with me to take as many pictures as I can. The view of the ocean beneath us—flat blue, smoothly textured and endless—is stunning. The flight is only about fifteen minutes, so soon we’re landing in Avalon on the island.

  There aren’t a lot of cars on the island, so we walk, checking out the town and the beach. There are tons of things to do—paddle boarding, kayaking, snorkeling, even zip lining. I didn’t come prepared for snorkeling, so I let Dad talk me into zip lining. Obviously, that’s not the time for a deep conversation.

  I’ve zip lined before and it’s really cool—a little adrenaline rush swinging through eucalyptus trees.

  As we wander the streets, I keep seeing shops that I think Molly would enjoy. Too bad she’s not with us. She’s been a trooper about letting me spend time with the family, not realizing that I kind of like having her along. And she fit right in the other night at Coastal Kitchen.

  Eventually we stop at a restaurant right on the beach for beers and food. We’re seated on the deck next to the railing, overlooking the curving beach.

  “This is the life,” Dad says, smiling. He sets his sunglasses on the table and gazes around.

  A table of four women across the deck are eyeing us. And by us, I mean Dad. Jesus. I guess he’s not that old, but those women are closer to my age than his.

  Once we have cold beers in hand, my gut tightens. Okay, I have to do this. Molly will be disappointed in me if I don’t. I’m not sure why her opinion of me matters, but apparently it does. But it’s also for me. She’s right; I do need to understand better what happened.

  I run my hand through my hair, looking away, then take a big gulp of beer and swallow. I look back at Dad. “Can I ask you something?”

  His gaze swivels back to me. He arches an eyebrow. “When you have to ask that question first, that means it’s something unpleasant.”

  I gnaw briefly on my bottom lip. “Yeah, I guess that’s so.”

  “Go ahead.” He curves both hands around his glass, watching me.

  “Why did you and Mom get a divorce?”

  His lips tighten, but he nods. “Your mom and I agreed that we wouldn’t talk to you kids about the reasons.” Then he sighs. “But that was years ago when you were teenagers. The truth is, I made some mistakes in our marriage and…” He drops his gaze briefly. “I was too focused on my career and not enough on my marriage.” One corner of his mouth kicks up in a glum smile. “Don’t make that mistake.”

  “Not a worry, since I’m not getting married.”

  “You will, one day.”

  “Nope.” I pause, then I say it. “I know you cheated on her.”

  Dad’s jaw drops, and his eyes burst wide open. “What?”

  “I overheard Mom talking one day after you left. I think she was talking to Betsy.” Her friend. “She said you’d b
etrayed her.”

  Dad’s head moves side to side and he genuinely appears shocked. “I never cheated on her.” Then he grimaces. “I understand why she might have thought that, since I was hardly ever home. But I didn’t.” Now his eyes narrow. “Were those her exact words?”

  “Yeah. I think so. It was a while ago.”

  “She may have felt betrayed, but it wasn’t because of another woman.”

  I don’t know what to do with this. Do I believe him? I’ve spent my entire adult life thinking he’s a cheater.

  “If it wasn’t that…couldn’t you have worked things out?” Christ, I sound like a hurt little boy, still hoping for his parents to reconcile.

  “We tried. We went for counseling. It helped us communicate better. Well, somewhat. It helped your mom. Actually, she didn’t need help. She’s a great communicator.”

  “It is kind of her job.”

  “Yeah.” His smile is wistful. “She’s the smartest woman I’ve ever known.”

  Jesus. I blink at him. He sounds like he still cares. Is that possible?

  “I wasn’t great at talking about my feelings. In the end, Mom wanted different things and I wasn’t…ready to give those to her.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Only things that she shouldn’t have had to ask for.” Dad’s lips droop and he turns his beer glass in his hands. “It was never her fault. I want you to know that.”

  I huff out a sigh. “I never thought it was her fault. But I thought…”

  “You thought I cheated on her.”

  “Yeah.” My chest feels like I’m being squeezed by giant bear paws. My face heats and I take a fast gulp of lager. My mind is scrambled. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how I feel.

  “Well. I have to say that explains a lot.” Dad’s voice is quiet. “And it kinda hurts, Jax.”

  “I know,” I choke out. I can’t even meet Dad’s eyes. My armpits prickle and sweat trickles down my spine.

  “I’ve never claimed to be perfect,” he says. “But I at least hoped that I’d demonstrated honesty and integrity to my kids. But then…” He pauses. “I wasn’t around as much as I should have been. Especially after the divorce.” For a moment, neither of us speak. Then he says, “I guess I deserve your animosity.”