Must Be Crazy: (Melissa and Jackson) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  I get up and run out the door.

  That went monumentally worse than I feared.

  I lean back against the booth and press my hands over my eyes. Fuck. How did I screw that up so badly? What did I do wrong? I’m here. I’m ready to take care of everything. What more does she want from me?

  I look up to see Nicole standing next to the booth.

  “Hey,” she says. “Can I sit?”

  “Sure,” I say. I lean forward and put my elbows on the table.

  Nicole sits, putting her purse and a laptop case on the bench seat beside her. “This is really none of my business,” she says. “But like hell if I’m going to sit there and do nothing.”

  “Shouldn’t you be going after her or something?” I ask. “You guys can go somewhere and talk about what a shithead I am.”

  “No, she needs to be alone,” Nicole says. “I’ve known her long enough to know that.”

  “I don’t know what just happened,” I say.

  “She’s scared,” Nicole says. “There isn’t a lot that scares Mel, so she’s kind of in uncharted territory. Maybe she’s not handling it so well.”

  “I know she’s scared,” I say. “I am, too. I’m scared as fuck, but I’m here.”

  “Yeah, you are,” she says.

  Does she seem impressed? Or surprised?

  “I thought I had it all figured out,” I say. “I found her a doctor, and I’ll replace her truck so she can fit a car seat, and I funded a trust for college. This is what I can do, Nicole. I can take care of her.”

  Nicole nods. “Sure, you can do all that. And it’s good. I’m not gonna lie, I’m impressed. I know I don’t know you very well, but when she first told me, I kind of thought … I don’t know, like you’d try to get out of this somehow.”

  “That’s apparently what she thinks too,” I say.

  “No, it isn’t,” she says. “But it is what she’s afraid of.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you guys haven’t known each other very long,” she says. “It’s been, what, a couple of months at the most? Now she’s facing this huge change, and she’s afraid it’s going to be too much for you. She’s steeling herself for you to walk out, so it doesn’t hurt so much if you do.”

  “I’m not walking out,” I say. “I don’t want to. Fuck, I’d do anything for her. You know what, maybe I’ll go buy a minivan. That will show her I’m serious.”

  “A minivan?” Nicole says, raising her eyebrows.

  “Yeah. A nice family car.”

  “What are you going to do, roll up in front of her house in your daddy-wagon?”

  “Yes,” I say, brightening. “Exactly.”

  “Oh my god, don’t,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “Are you Richard Gere?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “Is she a prostitute?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

  “No? Then stop trying to reenact Pretty Woman. A white limo and roses, or a white minivan, are not what she needs from you.”

  “Then what does she need?” I ask. “I thought I could show her I mean it.”

  “Would you be here if she wasn’t pregnant?” Nicole asks.

  “Yes,” I say, without hesitating. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been today. But I wasn’t going to let her go, even before I knew.” I take a deep breath, like I’m about to jump into deep water. “I love her.”

  Holy fuck, I said it out loud.

  Nicole’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  She puts a hand to her mouth, smiling behind her fingers. “Holy shit. This is like, I don’t even know. You love her?”

  It’s such a relief to be able to just say it. “I fucking love the shit out of her.”

  Nicole laughs. “Wow, okay. I like you way more than I did five minutes ago. Here’s the thing. She doesn’t want you to do the right thing, or swoop in and take care of her. Not right now, anyway. She’s scared because she doesn’t want to hold you back. She doesn’t want to be an obligation. And she’s convinced herself that even if you’re here now, it’s only because you feel like you have to be. Not because you want to be. Not because you want her. And it won’t be long before you leave.”

  “But I do want her,” I say. “I’ve never wanted anything like this before. My life is shit without her.”

  “Then you need to tell her,” she says. “Whatever moment you’re trying to create, it isn’t about you. It’s about her. You need to show her in a way that’s meaningful to Melissa.”

  “How do I do that?” I ask.

  “Just, be you,” Nicole says with a shrug. “She loves you too, whether she wants to admit it or not. That’s why she’s so afraid to let you back in. She doesn’t want you to solve her problems. She needs to know you love her, for her, and you want to be with her. She needs to know how you feel.”

  A calmness settles over me. I sit back in my seat, thinking about the details. I know exactly what to do. I’ll have to go back to Seattle first, but it will be worth it.

  “Thank you, Nicole,” I say, getting up from my seat.

  “Wait, where are you going?” she asks.

  “I’ll be back,” I say. “Keep an eye on her while I’m gone, okay?”

  I leave Nicole gaping at me, and go outside to call my driver.

  I’m pretty sure Nicole is avoiding me.

  Ever since Jackson showed up at the cafe, she’s been acting weird. I have dinner at her place, with Ryan, Cody, and Hunter, and she barely speaks to me. I know it’s because she talked to Jackson. I’ve seen no sign of him since. He probably told her he was out, that this whole thing was too much hassle, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell me.

  After that, she takes forever to answer my texts. When I suggest hanging out the next day, she has some excuse about doing wedding stuff. It might be legit—I’m probably being overly sensitive. But it seems odd. As soon as I told her I was pregnant, she went into full-on circle-the-wagons mode. Now she’s too busy to hang out?

  I curl up on my couch, a blanket over my legs, and try to pay attention to the book I’m reading. I’ve read the same page at least four times, and I still can’t remember what happened. I give up, tossing the book to the side, and grab the remote. I flip on the TV and fire up Netflix. My go-to is usually Firefly, but I don’t think I can watch it again. All I can think about is that first night in San Diego, when Jackson was so sweet. He made me tea. I glance at my steaming mug, the little string from the tea bag hanging off the side. Fuck it, I can drink tea and not think about him. I can still watch a show.

  I doze off about halfway through the first episode, the familiar lines running through my mind. A knock at the door startles me. My curtains are closed, so I can’t see who’s outside. It’s probably Nicole. I get up, pushing the blanket aside, hoping she brought takeout. I’m starving.

  My appetite vanishes as soon as I open the door. It’s Jackson.

  “Hi,” he says. His eyes sparkle in the sun. “Will you come for a drive with me?”

  I glance down at my clothes. I’m wearing a pair of black leggings and a long t-shirt, an even longer tank layered beneath it. I touch my hair—I’m pretty sure I brushed it earlier.

  “Um, I guess so,” I say.

  He smiles and steps aside. I grab my purse from the little table next to the door, slip on a pair of sandals, and follow him out to his car.

  He has the Bugatti, no driver in sight. It’s still the most comfortable car I’ve ever been in, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m too anxious. Why is he here?

  He pulls out onto my street and turns the corner, not saying a word. It’s fucking weird. He’s never this quiet. We drive south, down toward the edge of town. I keep expecting him to start talking, to fill the silence. He seems oddly relaxed. I’m the one who can’t stop fidgeting, bouncing my leg up and down.

  “Where are we going?”

  He doesn’t answer.


  We pull down a beach approach and he moves the car off to the side.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask.

  He just smiles at me and gets out of the car.

  He waits at the front of the car, his hands in his pockets, his face maddeningly serene. What the hell is going on with him? When I get out, he turns and walks down the beach. I follow. What else am I supposed to do?

  The sun shines; a few puffy white clouds amble across the sky. The waves crash along the beach, white foam bubbling. Jackson stops where the deep dry sand turns hard-packed and wet. I step up beside him, my patience at his silence fading fast.

  “Jackson, what are we doing out here?”

  He looks at me, and my heart nearly bursts. There’s no sign of the cocky show-off. No confident smirk of a man used to getting everything he wants. His eyes are intense, his expression utterly serious.

  “We’re out here because I want to talk to you alone,” he says.

  There’s no one else in sight. No cars. No one out for a stroll. Not even any footprints in the sand.

  He pulls out his phone and holds it up. I open my mouth, the words Don’t you dare take my picture right now on my lips. But before I can speak, he hurls it out into the water.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask, aghast.

  “No pictures, no tweets,” he says. “No audience.”

  My heart beats faster and a tingle of nervousness runs through my belly. Or is that a pregnancy thing?

  “Melissa.”

  The way he says my name. So forlorn. So passionate.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re fierce and strong, but gentle and soft. You’re fearless, not afraid to tell me what you want. I knew, sitting next to you in that bar, there was something different about you. That’s why I wanted you. I used to be surrounded by all kinds of women, but none of them meant anything. I didn’t think anyone ever would. Until I met you.”

  I swallow hard, hugging my arms around myself.

  “You’re right that we come from different worlds,” he continues. “I don’t know what it’s like to grow up here, or have a father who gives a shit. You don’t know how to deal with the media, and assholes who think they’re entitled to a view of your private life. But, I just…” He pauses, looking away. “That stuff doesn’t matter to me. No, that’s not true. It does matter. But not enough to keep me away from you. When I asked you to go away with me, I thought I was going to sweep into your life and blow you away. But the truth is, the opposite happened. You blew me away. You changed me. Or maybe it wasn’t a change—maybe you found something that was already there, waiting for the right person to bring it out.”

  He pauses again, but I can’t speak.

  “This has been a whirlwind, I know,” he says. “And we’re both in a place we didn’t expect to be. But I’m not even kidding when I tell you this—I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  My mouth drops open. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do,” he says, stepping closer. “We’re going to have a baby together, Melissa. That’s all kinds of crazy—but fuck, it’s wonderful.”

  Tears burn my eyes. He can’t be serious.

  “You’re afraid I’m going to get bored, or stifled by you,” he says. “You know what was stifling me? Believing that all that bullshit I was doing made me happy. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. I don’t want anything else. I love you, Melissa. I fucking love you so much I can barely breathe.”

  I put a hand over my mouth. I should say something, but I can’t get a word out.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. Despite myself, I gasp. Confusion swirls through me. The box is faded, the edges worn. This isn’t a box from a luxury jewelry store. I can barely make out the logo on the top.

  Jackson Bennett wouldn’t propose without a fancy ring. That isn’t his style. He’d find the biggest, gaudiest diamond imaginable. Wouldn’t he?

  “Open it,” he says.

  My hands tremble as I take the lid off the box. Inside is a softer box, its velvety surface in better condition. Baffled, I slip it out of the cardboard and open the lid.

  I almost drop it. Inside is a slim gold ring with a tiny diamond in a simple setting.

  My mother’s wedding ring.

  Tears run down my face. How did he get this this? How did he even know it existed?

  I swallow and take a shaky breath. “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s a funny story, actually,” he says. “After I last saw you, I left town and went back to Seattle, intending to buy you the biggest fucking ring I could find. That would show you, right? Except, when I got there, I looked around and none of them were you. It wouldn’t have mattered how much money I dropped on one of those stupid things. I realized that isn’t what you want from me. This is something my money can’t buy. So, I spoke to your father.”

  “My dad?”

  Jackson nods. “Yesterday. I went to him in person. I asked if he might still have your mother’s ring, and if he’d be willing to let me propose to you with it.”

  “I can’t believe you talked to my dad,” I say.

  “You told me he was old-school,” he says. “I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me without his permission.”

  Oh my god, is this really happening?

  “He gave you my mother’s ring?”

  “Yes,” Jackson says, his voice so soft. “He probably won’t admit it now, but he cried a little.”

  A sob shakes my shoulders. My dad cried? I saw my dad cry once in my entire life, long ago, when I was a little girl. The pain I saw in that moment took root in my soul and never truly left.

  “Melissa, I’m standing before you, just a man. Not a suit or a bank account. Not a solution to your problems. Just a man who loves you with everything he is. I don’t know how much that’s worth. But you’re worth everything to me.”

  He moves in close and lifts my hands. The box is still sitting in my palm.

  No glitz. No flash. No waving money in my face.

  “Until I met you, I didn’t know I was capable of loving anyone,” he says, his voice quiet. “But I love you. And if you let me, I’ll love you forever. Melissa, will you marry me?”

  This. This moment. This was what I wanted. What I didn’t dare to dream, because it didn’t seem possible. Jackson, the facade stripped away. No hiding behind his money or his charm. Just him, real and open.

  And he wants me.

  His brow creases with worry.

  Yeah, I’ll let him sweat it for a few more seconds.

  I hold his eyes and lift my left hand.

  With a gentle touch, Jackson takes the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger.

  “Yes.”

  “Ooh, that’s mine,” I say, grabbing a piece of steak from Jackson’s plate with my chop sticks.

  We’re stretched out across the bed in the penthouse in the nicest hotel in Jetty Beach. We usually stay at my place when we’re in town, but the septic tank backed up and I literally can’t go anywhere near it. The smell makes me instantly nauseated. Besides, staying at a hotel isn’t so bad. I don’t mind not having to clean up after myself, and the sheets are spectacular.

  We haven’t quite figured out the logistics of where we live. Do we live in Seattle? In Jetty Beach? I’m not sure anymore, but it doesn’t seem to matter. We spend time in both places and I kind of like our back-and-forth life.

  The school year started, but I’m taking a sabbatical from work. Between the controversy, and my pregnancy, I decided to take the year off. I’m not sure if I’ll return to teaching. At this point, I’m content to focus on the baby. And, to be fair, money isn’t an issue. I figure I’m going to be a mom and I can take some time to figure out what my future will look like. It won’t be long, and everything is going to change.

  I rub the swell of my belly through my white t-shirt. I’m visibly pregnant, although I still have almost four months to go. People usually as
sume I’m further along—apparently the baby has nowhere else to go but out. Nicole can’t stop talking about how cute I am, and she gives Ryan a lot of longing looks. I think I’m making him very, very nervous.

  My ring sparkles in the light. I still love looking at it. We got married in Vegas a month ago, although we haven’t told anyone. We sneaked into a chapel with sunglasses and hoods over our heads to avoid anyone with a stray camera, and an Elvis impersonator did the honors. It was completely fucking perfect. I love having such a big secret that only Jackson and I share. Dennis is planning a real wedding for us late next year. I don’t want mine to overshadow Nicole’s, and I’d kind of like to have wedding pictures where I’m not hugely pregnant. Of course, there will be a baby in those pictures, but it isn’t like the kid won’t be able to do the math someday and figure it out.

  “Hey, you wanted the chicken,” Jackson says, frowning at me when I take another piece of steak from his plate. He plucks a bit of meat from mine.

  “Oh, hell no,” I say. “You do not take food from a pregnant woman.”

  He grins at me and puts the chicken back. The takeout boxes are set on a wooden tray, along with bottled iced teas. He moves everything down to the floor and scoots closer to me.

  “Is lunch what you wanted?” he asks, brushing my hair back. He leans in and kisses his way down my collar bone, his hand lingering on my breast.

  “Mm, you need to stop that,” I say. “I’m starving.”

  The only thing stronger than my appetite for food is my appetite for sex. My hormones are on fire, and Jackson has no qualms about my changing body. If anything, he enjoys it in new ways. He particularly loves my boobs—but let’s be honest, they look amazing. If my belly has to get huge, at least I get bigger boobs out of the deal.

  He gently takes the plate from my hands and sets it aside, his mouth never far from mine. I’m hungry, but what the hell, the food will be here later.

  I let him press me back onto the bed. He slides his hand beneath my skirt. I moan as he nudges my legs apart, his fingers working their magic.

  “I guess you’re not freaked out,” I say.

  He nuzzles against my neck, nibbling my skin.