I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)

by Lauren Layne

  “Uh-huh,” Kim said. “I think you want him to be very nice to you.”

  Mollie didn’t respond as she forked up another bite of pad thai and chewed in silence.

  Kim continued to study her. “What’s going on? Really.”

  Mollie set her fork and the container on the bench next to her. “Jackson claims that he didn’t cheat on Madison, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Wondering.”

  Kim made a rude hooting noise. “Oh, come on. You know I’m no fan of your sister, but there were like a dozen women who came forward and claimed that he’d boinked them. No way they all lied.”

  Mollie dropped her head into her hands. “What if they did? You should have seen his face, Kim. It’s like he thought I betrayed him.”

  “Well, you sort of did,” Kim said, softening her voice. “He probably thought if he could keep pretending to be Prince Perfect in anyone’s eyes, it would be yours.”

  Mollie took a sip of water.

  “Mollie.” Kim’s voice was appalled. “You don’t actually believe him?”

  Yes, I do. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Sure,” Kim said reluctantly. “But only because I’m confident you’ll come to your senses once you have time to think things over. I mean, there were twelve women, Mollie, and—”

  “Kimmy.”

  “Right. Okay. Subject change. So, um, I’m thinking of going on another date with Harry.”

  “The bartender?” Mollie asked, trying to keep up with Kim’s ever-changing cast of flings.

  “Yup. I like his raven tattoo.”

  “Well, that’s a good reason to go on a date.”

  “Right? Plus he’s got big hands, soooo . . .”

  Mollie’s phone buzzed, and she dug it out of her lab coat pocket.

  Both she and Kim glanced down at the caller ID. Mollie groaned at the same time Kim gave a weary sigh.

  It was Madison.

  “I should take this,” Mollie said reluctantly.

  Kim shook her head as she stood. “Someday I’m going to get you out of her clutches.”

  “They’re not clutches. She’s my—”

  “Big sister. I know. I’ve got one too, and guess what? Jess isn’t a viper.”

  Mollie ignored this. “Come over tonight, and we can pour wine and talk all about new guy and his creepy tattoo.”

  “Can’t,” Kim said regretfully. “I’m seeing that yoga guy with the snake tattoo. But if you don’t have plans tonight, how about you ‘accidentally’ walk in on your new roomie in the shower? I need that picture for my . . . needs.”

  “Gross. Don’t be that girl,” Mollie said, shooing her friend away as she swiped her thumb across the screen to take her sister’s call. “Hey, Mad.”

  “What the hell, Mollie? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for, like, three days. Are you in?”

  “Am I in? You’re making it sound like this is a bank heist.”

  Madison huffed. “You know what I mean. Are you all moved in and settled?”

  Mollie fiddled with the pocket of her lab coat. “Yeah.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?”

  “His place. I want to know everything.”

  “Um, it’s . . .” Mollie leaned back on the bench and glanced at her watch. Her lunch hour was almost over. “It’s a penthouse on Park Avenue. So it’s nice.”

  “It’s ‘nice’? Come on, how about some details?”

  “I’m not going to spy on him, Mad.”

  “Is he seeing anyone?”

  Mollie’s temper spiked. She didn’t know if it was Kim’s constant reminders that Madison was no longer sister of the year or knowing that her sister had lied about Jackson’s affairs, but Mollie’s Madison tolerance was way down today.

  “Do you realize you only ever call to talk about you?” Mollie snapped.

  Madison was quiet for a long moment. At last she answered, “That’s not true.”

  Mollie said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” her sister said finally, her voice small. “How are things with you? How’s work?”

  “Really good, actually. My boss has been dropping hints about a promotion.”

  “That’s great!”

  Mollie smiled a little sadly at the forced enthusiasm in her sister’s voice. Madison was happy for her—Mollie knew that. It was just that her sister didn’t get her. Any more than Mollie got Madison and her decision to do things like Housewives and Botox at age thirty.

  There was a moment of awkward silence, and Mollie waited for her sister to rummage up some token question about Mollie’s job. When she didn’t, Mollie let the silence stretch on and on until she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Jackson says that he never cheated on you.”

  There was a moment of stunned quiet before Madison let out a choked laugh. “Well, of course he’s going to say that. Do you know any man who’s going to cop to an affair? Much less a dozen?”

  “So he did cheat on you?”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re sure? You caught him in the act?”

  “God, no, it’s just . . . There are signs, Mollie. You’ll understand someday.”

  Mollie rolled her eyes at the implication that she had no idea what cheating was just because she hadn’t been married.

  “There were all those women who came forward, Mollie,” Madison added. “You know that.”

  Mollie closed her eyes. It was the exact same point Kim had made just minutes earlier, and it made sense. It wasn’t just that the bitter wife had accused him of stepping out. Women scattered all over the country had come forward and claimed to have slept with him. The details of the accounts had been painfully explicit.

  “What is he telling you?” Madison asked.

  “Just what I told you. That he didn’t cheat.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Look, Molls, I know that you and Jackson have the whole buddy-buddy thing going on, but you’re too old for hero worship.”

  “I don’t do hero worship,” Mollie said.

  “Ugh, this is a mess. I should have known that all it would take is him doing that intense, genuine face he’s perfected.”

  “That’s not—”

  “It’s not your fault,” Madison interrupted. “I’m not mad, really.”

  Mollie blinked. “What’s not my fault? And what would you even have to be mad about?”

  “Okay, Mollie, none of this is why I’m calling.”

  Mollie frowned. Uh-oh. She tensed, sensing she wasn’t going to like whatever her sister was gearing up for.

  “I’m here! In New York.”

  Mollie sat up straighter. “What?”

  “Don’t get snippy about this. I’ve called you constantly—”

  “I’m sorry. Work’s been crazy busy. And you couldn’t have just sent a text giving me a heads-up?”

  “I should have. And I’m sorry. I just . . . I want to see you. I miss you.”

  Mollie bit her lip. She missed her sister too. Sort of. “I don’t think I can get out early today, but—”

  “It’s fine. I can just wait for you at home.”

  Mollie’s eyebrows lifted. “Home. As in Jackson’s home?”

  “It’s your home too now, sweetie.”

  Mollie rubbed her forehead. “Oh my God. This is why you were suddenly okay with me moving in—so that you could just drop by and ambush him?”

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, Maddie, but I don’t think he wants you in his house! He won’t even take your phone calls.”

  “Well, he’s going to have to grow up at some point. Might as well be today. I just want to talk to him. Make peace. Move on.”

  “If you’re so sure that he cheated on you, what the hell is there to even make peace with? Just accept that you two nearly destroyed each other and move on.” Let him move on.

  Madison sighed as though Mollie were being the irrational one. “I told you, i
t’s complicated. We hurt each other, yes, but he loves me. Why do you think he’s still single?”

  Because he’s jaded, thanks to you ditching him at his most vulnerable.

  There was silence on the other end, and Mollie could practically hear the wheels in her sister’s head turning.

  “Look, I just want one night,” Madison said. “I want to see you. And talk to him, yes. But mostly to see you. If you don’t want me to stick around, I won’t. We can meet in my hotel.”

  “So you are staying in a hotel?” Mollie asked in relief.

  “Yes, of course. The Plaza. But if you don’t want me to even see where my baby sister is living . . .”

  Mollie refused to bite, and the silence stretched on for several moments. She glanced at her watch, refusing to give in. “I’ve got to get back. My lunch break’s over.”

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “I miss him,” Madison said in a small voice. “And I know he misses me too. I swear, you and I will leave for dinner before he has a chance to flip out. I just want to see him. And I know you don’t understand this, but he needs to see me too.”

  Mollie blew out a long breath. God. “All right. Fine. Swing by around seven.”

  And then, because split loyalties between Jackson Burke and her sister had always been Mollie’s problem, she sent Jackson a text.

  If she knew her sister at all, she had just set Jackson up for an ambush. The least she could do was warn him.

  Chapter 11

  Of all the things Jackson was not prepared to see after a longer-than-usual day at the office, it was his ex-wife standing behind a stove.

  His stove.

  He froze in the process of pulling his computer case off his shoulder and blinked, waiting for the moment of déjà vu to pass.

  Nope. It was definitely Madison, dressed in jeans and a simple blue sweater, stirring something that smelled amazing.

  He watched as her hips moved in time with George Strait’s “Check Yes or No,” humming softly, her pitch just slightly off in that way he’d found so endearing at one time.

  For a moment Jackson let himself go back in time. To remember how it had once been—this feeling of coming home. Country music playing, a warm kitchen, and knowing that someone you loved was there to soothe away all the pain of the day.

  As though sensing a gaze on her, she turned slightly, and the warmth in her familiar blue eyes nearly took his breath away.

  “Hi,” she breathed.

  “Hi.”

  They stared at each other for several moments.

  He was only vaguely aware of soft footsteps behind him, then, “Hey, Mad, before I forget—Oh. Hi, Jackson.”

  Jackson tore his gaze away from his ex-wife and looked at Mollie. Dressed in cropped black yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder gray sweatshirt, blond hair in a messy knot, she looked perfectly at home.

  Probably because she was home.

  The present came crashing down around him. He and Madison were divorced. She’d told the world that he’d had an affair—multiple affairs.

  And Mollie had believed her.

  All of the anger rushed back in as he met Mollie’s blue eyes, so like her sister’s and yet entirely, uniquely Mollie’s.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked, glancing back at Madison.

  She wiped her hands nervously on her apron. “Mollie and I had dinner plans, and we thought—”

  Mollie pointed warningly at her sister. “You thought.”

  “I thought that it would be nice to stay in. Cook.”

  “At my place,” he said flatly.

  She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “You have to admit, it’s pretty hard to beat this kitchen. Shame to not use it.”

  “Playing the domestic card, Maddie? Really?”

  Her eyes glinted for just a moment, and he knew she was pissed that he’d seen right through her little scheme.

  But he didn’t have time to deal with Madison right now. He had more important things to take care of.

  He set his laptop bag on the counter, ignored Madison altogether, and headed toward his bedroom, grabbing Mollie’s biceps as he passed and dragging her with him.

  “Good to see you too, roomie,” she cooed after he’d pulled her into his bedroom and slammed the door.

  He ignored her sarcasm. “What is that?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

  Mollie crossed her arms. “That would be Madison Burke, the love of your life.”

  So she was trying to piss him off.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  “Exactly what she said. Dinner. And what’s with the surprised routine? I texted you about this, precisely so we could avoid this whole soap opera scene!”

  Jackson swore softly but vehemently, punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. “My phone died. I didn’t have a charger. Fuck.”

  Mollie winced. Well, this is unfortunate.

  “Your sister lives in fucking Houston, Mollie. Dear God, please tell me she still lives in Houston.”

  “Sure,” Mollie said gently, “but she’s allowed to visit. And judging from the tension in the room when I walked in, you don’t seem to be all torn up about it.”

  Jackson’s temper ignited again at being caught in a vulnerable moment—one of those rare quiet moments where he allowed himself to go back. To pretend . . .

  “Get her out of here,” he muttered.

  “No.”

  “No?” he said, his voice lowered. He took a step closer, daring her to argue.

  “I live here too,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Barely!” he shouted.

  Mollie’s eyes lit with anger now as well, and she crossed her arms. “Either I live here as a roommate and am allowed to have my sister over for dinner, or I’ll find my own place.”

  For some reason, the thought of her moving out—leaving him—sent a ripple of panic down his spine. It wasn’t like he needed Mollie. Hell, like he said, she’d only been here a short while, and they’d been awkward for days. But he didn’t think he could watch someone else he cared about walk out the door.

  “Madison can stay for dinner,” he said slowly, reluctantly. “But swear to me this isn’t one of her manipulative schemes. That she doesn’t have some bullshit plan I’m about to walk into.”

  Mollie held out her hands. “If there is a plan, she hasn’t told me about it. I’m not a part of it. Swear.”

  He searched her face, then nodded. “I believe you.”

  She blinked. “You do?”

  “Yeah, because that’s what friends do. We believe each other,” he said, pointedly referring to their argument about his cheating scandal. He didn’t know why he couldn’t put it behind them, but damn, it ate at him.

  “Don’t,” she said, her tone sharper than usual. “I’ve apologized. You have to drop it. It was a misunderstanding on Madison’s part, and it escalated, and—”

  “Hold it right there,” he said, lifting a hand. “Your sister didn’t misunderstand the facts. She deliberately manipulated them to make herself look better. So that she could be the victim in the divorce.”

  Mollie pressed her lips together as she thought this over. “She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have deliberately lied in all of those interviews.”

  He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck before loosening his tie. “You really don’t know her at all, do you?”

  “She’s my sister,” Mollie said quietly. “I’ve known her my whole life.”

  “Look,” he said, tugging at the tie, noting that her eyes followed the gesture a little too closely. “I get that when you were young, Madison did you a solid when your parents went AWOL. But open your eyes, kid. She’s turned into a grade-A—”

  Mollie was in his face in a second. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Also, ‘kid’?”

  They were toe to toe now, and although a tiny, rational part of Jackson’s mind registered the anger in
her tone, another part of him—the man part—registered that she was correct. She was no kid. She wasn’t a young girl anymore. And with her just inches away from being pressed up against him, he was definitely aware that she was all woman. A gorgeous woman. Who, lately, had been able to light his fire just as adeptly as she could talk him down.

  Shit. Is it hot in here? It suddenly feels hot in here.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he tried to keep his thoughts straight. Tried to remember why he was mad, why she was mad—

  Mollie’s breathing quickened just a little, and he felt a surge of male satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to suddenly be struggling to get enough air.

  What the hell are you doing? This is Mollie. She’s far too young for you. And you can’t actually want—

  But he did want.

  Jackson couldn’t explain it, but right now he wanted nothing more than to put his hands on her. He wanted to lower his mouth, and—

  There was a knock at the door.

  Mollie jumped back a full foot, and Jackson bit back an oath.

  “Yeah. What?”

  The door opened a crack and Madison poked her head in. “Is everything okay? I just wanted to say that I can leave if you don’t want—”

  She broke off, and the look of wide-eyed innocence she’d probably been perfecting in the mirror all day vanished for a split second as her gaze traveled between Mollie and Jackson.

  Jackson had to give credit where it was due—though Madison’s gaze hardened briefly, almost immediately she recovered the sweet wounded-doe routine perfectly.

  “I don’t want to be any trouble,” she whispered.

  “Sure you don’t,” Jackson said, tossing his tie on the bed and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “I didn’t answer your phone calls, so you’ve upped your game and shown up at my fucking house. Good on you. You’ve got me. So let’s have it. What do you want, Madison?”

  “I just want to talk to you,” Madison said, clasping her hands together and stepping into the room with a pleading look. “One dinner. Please.”

  He closed his eyes. “If I do this—if I share a damn meal with you—then will you back off? You’ll quit with the calls, the texts . . . no more surprise drop-bys?”

  She hesitated and then nodded once. “If that’s what you want . . . yeah, I’ll back off. I just need you to hear me out.”