I Want You Back

by Lorelei James

  “Lucy, hon, you’re not making sense,” she said gently.

  Okay. Breathe. “It started when we took the tour of his apartment and he mentioned being so overwhelmed that he hadn’t chosen wall colors for the main rooms. I don’t understand how he picked floor coverings without knowing the color of the walls. I offered to help him pick paint colors, which ended up being me choosing the colors. I chose a soft brown for the main room and the hallway, and he . . .”

  “Please don’t tell me he didn’t like it.”

  “No, he loved it. The problem is now he trusts my judgment implicitly and he’s asked me to choose furnishings for the rest of the apartment! How am I supposed to know what he likes, Edie?”

  She tapped her fingers on the desk. “You did live together for a while.”

  “He stayed in my apartment with my cheap furniture from IKEA the first summer we met and was a part-time roomie during my pregnancy up until he returned to the hotel he lived in in Chicago during the season.”

  “That should’ve been my first clue that he was so . . . unsettled.”

  I knew that look. She’d taken on guilt for not recognizing her son’s issues.

  “Anyway, go on.”

  “The place he’s renting in Snow Village came furnished. This apartment is the first place he’s owned, that he wants to be a home. How can he not know what kind of style he likes? He wants me to create a more a personal space, which means way more than just furniture.”

  “Have you asked him why he didn’t hire an interior designer and decorator?”

  “Yes. He grumbled that they’d fill every nook and cranny with stupid-looking shit and ugly, trendy furniture that no one wants to sit on.”

  Edie smiled. “Stupid-looking shit sounds exactly like something his father would say.”

  “Then he told me the real deal breaker for hiring a professional is they believe money is no object and they want no oversight.” I exhaled. “How is that any different than what he’s asking me to do? I have an unlimited budget, which scares me because I’ve never had that as an option. His only criteria? The furniture has to be in stock. Nothing custom made or ordered because he expects his apartment to be move-in ready.”

  “That is a bit of a catch-22, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” I took another breath. “I’m here to plead for your help. Not only don’t I have a freakin’ clue what Jax wants in his home, I don’t know why he asked me, instead of you.”

  Another tap tap tap of her perfectly manicured fingernails on the desktop as she studied me. “Lucy, hon, you know why he asked you to do this.”

  Dammit.

  “My concern: Is Jax manipulating you with his sudden ‘decorate my apartment’ scheme? Demanding you choose furnishings you love to make it a home that you’d want to live in with him, when you haven’t given him any sign that’s a possibility?”

  It appeared Jax had taken my “don’t broadcast the status change in our relationship” literally, as he hadn’t even told his mother. “Edie, Jax and I are starting over. It’s still new enough we’re taking it a day at a time, keeping two separate places and not upsetting Mimi’s life all at once. We’d prefer to ease her into the change in our relationship because there’s a lot at stake.”

  Then Edie did the oddest thing; she squealed happily, hopped up, pulled me out of my chair and into a bear hug that stole my breath. “I’d hoped this would happen for so long.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. During his dark days, when even I didn’t like him very much, I’d lost hope. But now . . .” She squeezed me again. “Now my heart is filled with joy at the thought you’ll become the family you were always meant to be.”

  Good to know she approved. “I’m relieved you’re happy, Edie.”

  “And I’m relieved that my son will be happy again.” She stepped back and gently framed my face in her hands. “He told me that you are the love of his life.”

  Lucky thing she held my jaw or it would’ve hit the floor. “Jax told you that? When?”

  “He actually told me that twice. Right after we met you for the first time and before he went into rehab, when he talked about how spectacularly he’d fucked up with you.”

  Ooh, Edie dropping the f-bomb. “And Mimi?”

  “That’s something entirely different for him.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m grateful that you’ve taken a leap of faith with him and are moving on from the past.” She lowered her hands but kept full eye contact with me. “I know firsthand how hard it is to forgive.”

  Wait. Was she telling me that Archer . . . ?

  “This isn’t something I ever talk about, because it’s in the past, but I feel it’s important for you to know, even when no one else does. Maybe especially because of that.”

  “Jax isn’t aware?”

  “That his father cheated on me? No. I’ve never told my sisters-in-law, my parents or my siblings. The only person I told was my best friend, and she passed on about fifteen years ago.”

  It was difficult watching her collect herself; this wasn’t an Edie I recognized.

  “Anyway, our situation happened early. Archer and I fell in love fast, became engaged quickly, but we hadn’t set a wedding date. He came back from a business trip, acting weird. I jokingly asked if he was acting guilty because he’d cheated on me, not expecting that he’d confess that’s what had happened. He told me it hadn’t meant anything, he was drunk . . . she was drunk . . . he didn’t even remember her name.”

  She closed her eyes, took a moment and inhaled before she continued. “I broke it off with him. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right? No redemption, no forgiveness, cut and dried, we’re done, and I’m gone.”

  I nodded, forcing my mouth to ignore my brain’s like father, like son comment.

  “This happened in the summer. I left the Cities and headed to our family’s cabin near the Canadian border, needing time to sort my life out. I’d been up there three weeks when Archer showed up. He admitted he’d screwed up and after I’d left he finally understood that making excuses for his behavior had made it worse; he should’ve been making amends.

  “He loved me, Lucy. I knew that. I loved him too, which is why it was so hard to believe that walking away from each other was the best option after one mistake. I told him he could have me or he could have every other woman in the world. He chose me; he chose us. It took us a few months to get back on track, for me to choose him and most importantly to choose to forgive him. I never told anyone about it, not out of embarrassment, although it was humiliating, but I knew people would think I stayed with him because of his money. Being married to a billionaire buys a lot of forgiveness, you know?” she said sarcastically.

  I wondered if people would say the same thing about me when they found out Jax and I had gotten back together. “And you never worried or wondered?”

  “That he’d cheat on me again?” She paused. “No, and not because I watched him like a hawk. When I forgave his behavior I had to trust him again. Having my trust meant everything to him. He’s never violated it in the thirty-nine years we’ve been married. I have the best life I could’ve ever hoped for, with a man who loves me with all that he has.” She offered me a wistful smile. “Everyone’s ability to forgive is different. There’s no right or wrong way, so I don’t pass judgment on what works for other couples. I’m telling you how it worked for us.”

  She didn’t need to tell me her experience to try and sway me into giving Jax another chance—I’d done that on my own. But it did add another positive reinforcement moment that I’d made the right decision for us.

  Stepping forward, I hugged her. “Thank you, Edie, for your insight and honesty. I promise this will stay between us.”

  “I know it will, dear, or I wouldn’t have told you.” She gave me a very motherly peck on the forehead. “Now, let me grab my laptop and a tape measur
e, then we’ll head to the big empty apartment and figure out what’ll make it a homey place you’ll all want to live in.”

  And that was that. End of discussion, move on to the next thing; classic Edie Lund.

  She’d soothed me in a way I hadn’t known I’d needed. I could learn a lot from this woman, and I was grateful she’d be an even bigger part of my life—more than just Mimi’s grandmother.

  “Sounds good. And on the drive over, you can tell me how to survive being a hockey mom.”

  Edie laughed. “Oh, honey, that conversation might take years.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Thursday, as I stood outside the front door of the bar formerly known as Borderlands, I decided this was the most bizarre week I’d had in a long time.

  After Edie had told Selka Lund that Jax and I were back together and we were working together to furnish Jax’s apartment, Selka had told Annika. Annika then chewed me out for not telling her about the change in my relationship with Jax first, and then she’d given me Tuesday and Wednesday off to play interior decorator.

  As much as I appreciated—and needed—that time to finish the “favor” for Jax, I couldn’t refuse when Annika sent me to deliver her top secret PR plans directly to Jax. Her excuse for not delivering it herself—heading home for a nooner with Axl—sounded suspicious. Not the nooner part. Whenever Axl made a surprise appearance at the office—especially during the hockey season—we all found some other place to be. I questioned why it had to be me, in person, during the workday, instead of me handing the packet to Jax during Mimi’s hockey practice tonight.

  As I debated on whether to enter through the hole in front of the building where the door used to be, or heading around back, two construction workers carried a load of demolition debris out the opening and tossed it into the Dumpster by the curb.

  Other than pacing in front of the building that day Jax confessed he owned it, I hadn’t been in Borderlands since the night I’d cried in my nonalcoholic beer after my pregnancy test came back positive . . .

  * * *

  • • •

  I’d been avoiding Jax for two days. I responded to his texts, but whenever he called me—like six times a day—I wouldn’t pick up. My excuse? I was sick. There was truth to that excuse. I’d been nauseous and tired, fighting colds and flu symptoms since the first part of the year. When I realized spring had snuck past me, I had to admit the lingering sickness wasn’t the flu and I’d gone to the doctor.

  I’d expected a bullshit diagnosis of a virus that would run its course—thank you for the fifty-dollar co-pay—but the results were shockingly unexpected.

  Pregnancy.

  I’ll admit I lost my shit with the PA, demanding answers on how I could get pregnant when I was on birth control. I never missed a dose.

  But I had been on an antibiotic as I fought a sinus infection that I blamed on being in various airports during the height of winter sickness season. And during that time, Jax had a five-day winter break and we’d spent most of it in bed in his Chicago hotel room.

  So combine a sex marathon with weakened contraception and ta-da . . . we’d made a baby.

  I had no idea how I’d break the news to him. Would he think I’d done it on purpose?

  No way had I wanted a baby. Jesus. I was only twenty-four. I was all about my career as much as he was about his. I’d just gotten a promotion at work. I knew nothing about babies or being a mother.

  And yet, the pregnancy had happened. I had months to prepare for the baby’s arrival the first part of December. Jax wouldn’t be happy. Having his girlfriend living in a different state already added stress to our relationship. Having his child living in another state . . .

  Hence the reason I’d been avoiding him and why I’d chosen to drown my sorrows in nonalcoholic beer, in the one place in Minneapolis that made me feel close to him: our bar.

  Our bar because it was the scene of our first sexual encounter.

  Our bar because it was where Jax had confessed his love for the first time.

  Our bar because we felt free to be us—no one recognized Jax. We spent time dancing, talking and fooling around, making memories just like any other young couple in love.

  Feeling morose, I didn’t glance up when a shadow fell across the table. I said, “I’m fine, Vic,” assuming it was the bartender.

  “From what I can see, Lucy Q, you’re a helluva long ways from fine.”

  The shadow belonged to Jax.

  Holy shit. Jax was here. In Minneapolis.

  “Jax? Aren’t you supposed to be in Chicago getting ready for the playoffs?”

  “Yes, but I have a girlfriend who won’t talk to me and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I will always find you.”

  Dammit. I was not going to cry.

  “I needed to see you in person, baby, to look in those beautiful brown eyes and find out what’s going on.”

  Baby. God. Maybe after I told him about the baby, our bar would be where it all ended.

  Jax scooted into the booth across from me. He set aside the bottle of beer without looking at it, picked up my hands and kissed the center of each of my palms. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

  “I don’t know how to say this.”

  His body stiffened. “Are you breaking up with me? Because I promise once the playoffs are over I’ll be focused on you—on us—one hundred percent. The ’hawks haven’t been in the playoffs for so freakin’ many years that we’re all so pumped—the players, the fans, the whole damn city! I can’t imagine what it’ll be like if we make it to the finals, say nothing if we win the Stanley Cup.” He released my hand to pantomime mind blown.

  That’s when I knew I couldn’t tell him about the pregnancy. Not yet. Not when he’d reached a career goal—hell a life goal—of his team playing in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. He couldn’t do anything about the pregnancy and he couldn’t be with me, so it’d keep until he could be excited about another major event in his life.

  “Luce?”

  I smiled at him. “Silly man, I’m not breaking up with you.” I reached over and scraped my fingers through his playoffs beard. “Although I might if you don’t shave this scruff the second the season ends. I hate when I can’t see this handsome face.”

  “Done.” He turned his head and kissed my wrist.

  I loved the small pieces of sweetness and affection he showed me, although anyone who watched him on the ice would argue that Stonewall Lund was incapable of being sweet.

  “Now will you please tell me what you don’t know how to tell me?”

  And I came up with the perfect white lie. “I won’t be able to travel to any of your playoff games. Management is expecting more out of me with this promotion.”

  His eyes searched mine. “That’s it?”

  “Yep. I know you’re disappointed, and I want to be supportive—”

  He leaned across the table and kissed me to stop my babbling. “To be honest, it’s a relief. The coaches are really cracking down on outside influences, including family, and trying to keep us focused. Not to mention that playoff tickets are hard to come by and I gotta give mine to my family first. Plus, babe, you don’t even like hockey. Admit it.”

  I teased his lips with little sugar bites. “True, but I happen to love a certain hockey player.”

  Jax took over the sweet kisses, replacing them with hungry, openmouthed soul kisses that ignited my lust instantly.

  Even after almost a year together, his passion knocked me sideways. That he could express his love for me, his need for me with just the way he kissed me. The infrequency of our physical connection made us reckless.

  Which Jax demonstrated in the next breath when he demanded, “Back room. Now. I haven’t fucked you for two goddamned weeks and I’m dyin’.” He sucke
d on my lower lip. “Dyin’. I think my balls might’ve fallen off from disuse. You’ll have to examine them very closely.”

  I laughed. “Better go slip Vic fifty bucks to look the other way.”

  “Baby, I need you so bad I handed him a Benjamin as soon as I walked through the door.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Can I help you with something?”

  I blinked and the memory disappeared, making me aware that I’d been standing in the same place while it’d played out. I turned toward the woman and smiled. “I’m here to drop off something for Jax.”

  The woman scrutinized me, which wasn’t particularly fun because she was stunning. Tall, slender, flowing chestnut locks straight out of a shampoo commercial, her placid face flawless—without makeup. Assessing gray eyes that suddenly lit with recognition.

  “Holy shitballs. You’re Lucifer.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry. You’re Lucy. Jax’s . . .”

  I raised an eyebrow. This next part oughta be good. “I’m Jax’s what?”

  “You’re Jax’s Lucy.” She offered her hand. “I’m Simone. Jax’s business partner in the bar.”

  Of course you are.

  “Jax isn’t here, but I could take that for you.” She pointed to the thick manila envelope clutched in my hand.

  “Sorry.” I managed to give Jax’s incredibly beautiful business partner a smile. “Strict instructions from Annika that this is for Jax’s eyes only. I thought she’d spoken to him and he knew I was coming.”

  She shrugged. “No idea about that. He had some kind of meeting that’s gone on longer than he planned.”

  Vague much with the some kind of meeting? I said, “An AA meeting?”

  Simone shook her head. “He usually goes to the Monday meeting.”

  Now I felt stupid; I hadn’t known that. Jax never talked about that stuff with me. But apparently he did with Simone.

  Go away, jealousy.

  “You’re welcome to wait inside, but I’ll warn you, it’s a serious mess.”