by Ava Claire
"Wait-"
And she did.
Just long enough to drop a final missive that chilled me right to the bone.
"You're a real asshole, Jason Cox. And mark my words, you're gonna die alone. And that's exactly what you deserve.”
~
Of all the possible scenarios I ran through on the drive to Natalee's place, her slamming me into a wall was not one of them.
My gut twisted, wrapping a rope around my vocal chords. It was a good thing, because my first instinct in tense situations was to go for a joke. Sarcasm. Anything to alleviate the tension. But I didn't want to run away from the look on her face. It was the same look she had outside that bathroom. Some stomach churning combination of disgust and disappointment.
Neither was palpable. Not anymore.
Not on the face of someone I loved.
"Natalee," I began, not advancing because she looked ready to rip my head from my body if I made the slightest move in her direction. "Let me explain why I'm here-"
"No more explanations," she interrupted, tossing her head back and forth like anything more than 'See ya' would make her neck snap. "I got your texts and emails. I don't need more noise." She curled those delicious lips of hers into that stubborn set that would make lesser men stutter and whip out their phones and order roses, pronto. Stuttering would just make me look weak and from the way her chin trembled, despite her attempts to mask it, she would probably shred the flowers and make it rain wilted rose petals and broken dreams.
No more noise.
I looked down at my hands, rubbing them together like with some magic would spark to life and the right words would appear on my palms. I'd take each one, string them together, and somehow, she'd hear it. She'd hear the truth and know it wasn't more lies. More of the bullshit that I’d brought into her life.
When I dredged my gaze from my balled fists back to the woman who made me want to be better, to be more, I saw a different kind of surprise. A tentative thing. Like she'd had her own ideas of how this reunion would go, and I was switching it up on her.
Like maybe, she wanted to listen.
The impatient and impulsive part of me wanted to go to her; to kiss her, to get past all the difficult and painful obstacles to some imagined ‘happily ever after’. A place where we could put my sins and the tabloids behind us. Where I could show her I was more than a tech billionaire with a penchant for expensive toys, expensive booze, and fast women.
I had everything...and nothing. That's what sitting in my loft, alone, showed me. All the money in the world didn't mean a damn thing if there was no one to share it with. No one who busted your balls and called you on your shit. No one to connect with and share days that seemed like they would never end; jump up and down with you when you had good news. No one to make you wish the night would never end because you wanted to stay tangled up in the covers. Tangled up in each other.
I took a step away from the wall and paused, committing every beautiful angle of her face to mind, just in case I said my piece and it changed nothing. Just in case I truly had lost her.
Those eyes of hers speared me right through the chest. They sparkled like the first time our eyes met at the bar, bits of gold and brown dancing in the green. They were defiant, daring me to cross her. To underestimate her. But I knew better. I'd been foolish enough to let her slip through my fingers once. I knew hers were the only eyes I wanted to gaze into.
I swept over the button curve of her nose, the nostrils still flaring with emotion, but there was more than anger. Something else. Something I wanted to believe was the very thing that brought me to her in the first place.
And her mouth. The sweetheart mouth that no longer held a snarl, but lips were parted, little huffs of breath that made her shoulders rise and fall. Matching my own, my heart racing in my chest like something wild and terrified.
I'd said 'I love you' before, but standing here with her, so close and yet so far, I knew this was different. This was special. Something worth fighting for.
"There's only a handful of people who know who Cassidy Winters is to me." I inhaled, trying to see past the scowl at the mention of the woman, to the fact that Natalee hadn't stormed back into her apartment and slammed the door. "Trust me, it's not a name that I like to say myself. A lot of...history."
"Oh, I bet," Natalee snorted, locking her arms and telling me I was off to a bang up start. "I've learned all about your childhood sweetheart. The future Mrs. Jason Cox models for Vogue when she's not globetrotting for her athletic wear clothing line. If I could afford to drop $100 for a pair of leggings, she'd be right up my alley."
I arched an eyebrow, almost telling her she knew more about Cassidy than I did. After she told me about the baby, her family secreted her away. I heard rumors about her spending time in Europe after graduation and I was ashamed to admit that was good enough for me. Since my parents both left their marriage in the rearview before the ink was even dry on my diploma, it was a secret that died. A road we'd ventured on, then hit the brakes and accelerated backward until we were back on track, pretending it never happened at all.
I'd lived my life with my head in the sand. It was the Cox way. Avoiding entanglements. Trouble ahead? Throw money at it. Buy things; shiny, meaningless things. Go exciting places. Anything to numb the fact that when it came down to it, you were riding through life on auto pilot.
Alone.
Until now.
Natalee was still hyperventilating, holding tight to her anger. But the rest of her...her eyes burned like she did want an explanation, needed one. Her lips were parted, but no longer hissing all the reasons she should get the hell out of dodge. Her legs were locked, feet planted firmly. Not leaving. Listening.
So I got on with it.
Because she had every right to leave.
To close the door of us.
And every second she stood there, growling at me, was a gift I didn't deserve. But I'd start earning the second chance she was giving me right now.
“Cassidy Winters lived two houses down,” I began. “She was from the right zip code, had the right last name—and unlike every other girl in my universe at the time, didn’t seem to care about any of it.” Nostalgia rippled over me, like a numb limb slowly waking up. A tingling memory that made me sad because I knew this story didn’t have a happy ending.
Natalee didn’t share my nostalgia, the locked arms against her chest traveling up to her face and morphing the gentle curves into steel. I decided any further details, like how I knew Cassidy was special, that she was different when she shared that their maid, Freida, was more of a mother than the woman whose name was on her birth certificate. The girl who stood up for the kids at the bottom of the social totem pole. The first girl who made me wonder, is this what love feels like?
“We dated for a year and we-” I took a tiny, not-so-smooth step backward, covering it by casually leaning against the wall that my back was already acquainted with. “Hooked up in that span of time.”
I said it gingerly, like a parent who was having ‘the talk’. There was no talk in the Cox household. My dad just gifted me a box of condoms on my fourteenth birthday and let Google and my friends take care of the rest. And we were safe, but I learned the hard way that nothing except not doing it at all was 100%.
“So you guys had sex.” Natalee shrugged like it meant nothing, but I knew she cared. Just like the thought of any other man touching her, even before she became mine, made me want to puff out my chest and-
Wait.
Mine?
May be a bit premature there, buddy. Especially since Natalee looked like she was chewing glass and wanted to spit out a piece to slice my jugular with.
“I’m well aware that you’re a card carrying manwhore, Jason,” Natalee said vehemently, dropping her battle stance just long enough to throw her arms up in exasperation. “I’m not sure what that has to do with-”
“She got pregnant and lost the baby.”
I blurted it out, all the finess
e and lead-up going right out the window. It was a knee jerk reaction and I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut. Despite the fact that she was clearly on some sort of vendetta, I still felt like I’d done her a disservice. And when I opened my eyes and saw the horror on Natalee’s, I tried it again.
“Fuck, that’s definitely not how I planned to tell you all this-”
I shook my head, my groan filling the space I didn’t know I’d have to fill. Best case scenario, I’d expected Natalee to hear the story and we could start over. I’d share something I’d never shared with anyone else and we could rebuild. Or put down the foundation for something even better. Instead, I was the man who blurted out that he knocked up his ex, the baby was lost, and thank God we dodged that bullet, right? My intent to show Natalee I was more than a jerk was officially a bust.
And then she surprised me.
“Jason...” I’d never heard anyone say my name so softly. “I’m so sorry.”
I gazed at Natalee and realized that I’d misread her. Misjudged my klutzy attempt at telling my story. It wasn’t horror that made her eyes bulge. They were wide open, seeing me, knowing me in a way that was beyond the superficial. Seeing me vulnerable. Broken. Human.
She came to the center of the hall, not embracing me, because despite the fact that we were close enough to touch, we both knew more was required. This was just the first step.
I swallowed and picked up where I’d left off. “I didn’t know how to take the news and I reacted...poorly. Even that fell flat. Natalee curved her eyebrows, knowing that there was more.
“I...” My throat was on fire. “I was so surprised and I was a dumb kid and the wires got crossed and I laughed.” All the emotions that I’d snuffed out all these years came rushing back, and the tears I didn’t cry for our baby then wouldn’t be denied now. “My excuses don’t mean shit because she told me something earth shattering and I fucking laughed.”
There was no way I could look Natalee in the face now. Not with the water that wouldn’t stop streaming long enough for me to get my shit together. I heard my father’s voice telling me that men didn’t cry. And the Jason that I had been unhelpfully smacked me upside the head, demanding that I stop being a bitch before I lost Natalee altogether.
“Jason.”
I turned off the water works and with one sniff, it was damn near undetectable that the dam had broken at all. “Just give me a minute.”
“No.” Before I could get out another syllable or pretend I didn’t carry bone crushing guilt about that day and loss so deep I wasn’t sure I could stand it, Natalee took the sides of my head in her soft hands.
“You don’t get to run from this moment. Your brokenness, your pain is yours, Jason. And it’s heartbreaking.” Her olive eyes were liquid, crying tears of her own. “You were just a kid. And I see that you cared about her. And the baby.”
My eyes were glass, but the tears didn’t fall. I didn’t let them. In honor of all the tears that Cassidy had cried. All the tears every woman since her had cried. “Well, as you can see, none of that matters because Cassidy is back to get her pound of flesh.”
“Well, if she thinks she’s getting to you, she’s gonna have to go through me.”
It was a record scratch moment that made my jaw hit the floor. The playful edge was a whisper, but tears or no, I was still me. And since Natalee was close enough that her curves were perfectly aligned with my body, and I could see that beneath her tender touch there was a battle being waged as far as whether she wanted me to kiss her or rip her clothes off first, I decided to chance it. Jump on the land mine and hope for the best.
“Is that right?” When she bit her lip, clearly trying to cover her smile, I exhaled, knowing that for now, all was right in the world. “Surprised you aren’t getting in line to take me down as well. I certainly deserve it.”
She stopped nibbling on her bottom lip, flashing me a sad smile as she stroked my jaw with her fingertips.
“We’ve all made mistakes. It’s what comes next that matters. You decided to just show up at my house, uninvited, after I told you to go to hell, risking the chance that I could very well be the one to send you there personally.” She winked at me when I went a shade paler. “Don’t worry, Jason. Turns out I like you.”
All the mess, the drama, the heart ache, the loss, the fuck ups, went quiet long enough for some voice to whisper, You got the girl—so don’t fuck it up.
I leaned down, my mouth hovering inches above hers, her soulful eyes setting me on fire. Daring me to kiss her.
And I would...right after I got her to admit that what she was feeling was the same thing I was feeling—and it was a lot like love.
“Just like, huh?” I smirked.
She balled my t-shirt in her fist, denying me a kiss, but letting out one of her musical laughs. One that made her eyes sparkle and my heart rage in my chest.
“Don’t push your luck.”
Her apartment door swung open and a blonde woman that had Natalee’s eyes was wiping tears from her own.
“Why don’t you two just live happily ever after already?!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN: NATALEE
I don't know who was more excited that I invited Jason in, me, or my mother.
"I hope I'm not being too forward," she drawled with seduction hanging on every syllable, "But you are incredibly attractive."
I threw a strained "Mom!" in her direction, but she swatted it away and flipped her hair with just enough nonchalance that you knew she was up to no good.
"What?" she answered, feigning innocence. "Isn't he incredibly attractive?"
Jason twitched his gaze in my direction, stifling a Cheshire grin.
I was just grateful there was a sea of junk separating the two of them, otherwise I'd have to get the squirt bottle reserved for my roommate's precocious cat.
"He's alright," I said begrudgingly, dodging the wink he tossed my way. 'Alright' wasn't even close. Despite surprise and residual anger making me give him a little nudge when I opened the door and came face to face with the last person I expected to see, my heart told a different story than my hands.
My hands may have wanted to throttle him for ever approaching me in that bar. For ever cutting those baby blues at me in the dim light, shining with mischief and the promise of a night I'd never forget. And I hadn't, because the minute we'd been reunited before the wedding, I had a physical reaction to him: the overwhelming desire to slap him—then tear off my pants and show him that the only woman he should be fucking in the bathroom, or anywhere else, was me.
But my heart, that stupid, pulsing thing in my chest, it wanted to throw my arms around his neck. My hero, saving me from having to swallow my pride and send him a text. Relenting, and agreeing that we did have to talk. Because the fact was, Jason Cox was more than 'alright'. He was infuriating, confounding, funny, broken, really, good in bed, and...incredibly attractive.
Oh—and mine. Not that I was really worried about my mom. Being in the same room with him again, feeling his eyes on me made it clear that I didn't have to worry about any woman, including the woman that was allegedly his fiancé.
Jason only had eyes for me.
I dropped my own eyes to the counter, taking in the rattle that possessed my fingertips. I wanted to blame the nerves on the fact that God only knew what ridiculous things were bound to come out of my mother's mouth. Standing here, with a man who was willing to fight for me, for us, that was what made me tremble.
The last time I let a man close enough to destroy me, he'd struck the match, set our relationship on fire, and left me to deal with the ashes. He didn't even bother to watch it burn, he just put us in the rearview. I was strong enough to not look him up on social media, telling myself that I could pretend it all meant nothing too. The truth was enough to gut me. I didn't look him up because I wouldn't have been able to handle the sight of him living happily ever after. While I was pretending that first dates and no strings attached and tinder hookups suited me just fine, he got to liv
e the life I wanted to lead.
A life that I could still lead.
A better life, because it was clear I had a better man. A man who would risk bodily harm and/or me calling the police if I was serious about that whole 'go to hell' thing. A man who was smart enough to know that despite the roses and texts and emails, what I needed was to see his face.
A man that could ruin me forever if things fell apart...and set my heart free if the love I saw in his eyes was real.
I flexed my fingers and put aside the fairytale dust and turned to the cabinet. To a distraction from the fact that that word, love, should have scared me more than it did.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
The question was directed at Jason, but my mother was suddenly parched. She headed in the kitchen behind me, rummaging through the cabinets, walking right past my bulging eyes and silent message for her to make an exit vs making us a drink.
"You'll have to forgive Natalee Jane, I swear I raised her better than this pig sty you've been dragged into."
"I'm sure he prefers being in the pig sty than out in the hall," I harrumphed, pretending I wasn't suddenly embarrassed by the wreck that was my apartment. I was a hop, skip, and a jump away from getting my own episode of Hoarders. Jason was hovering near the couch, out of ear shot, so I took a moment to turn the silent message I was trying to send to my mother to 'whisper' mode.
"I bet Dad is probably missing you, huh? You guys rarely get any time away together."
Her forehead wrinkled as she drew her eyebrows together in confusion. "Your dad is probably in his boxers and socks in the hotel, glad that he doesn't have to share the remote." She let out a 'aha' when she found a jug of unopened lemonade that I was fairly sure had been around since I moved in a year ago.
I gently took it from her, and made sure I had her full attention. "Maybe you should go back to the hotel."
"But-" The lightbulb flickered on, finally, and her cheeks flushed red as she wheeled toward the living room and let out the most awkward giggle I'd ever heard. "Look at the time! I should probably head out before my hubby drains our bank account with pay per view."
