by Vivian Wood
“Ahhh,” I say, wiping my tears away. Milo meows, and jumps up onto my side on the bed. I shift a bit so that I can pet him, even though it’s pretty awkward. “Enough of that. Tell me about something else. Tell me about your family.”
“Oh…” Jett says. He tries to pet Milo by reaching over my body, but Milo ducks. “Umm. It’s just me and my brother now. Jax.”
“Are you close? And is this an older brother, or a younger one?” I ask, not moving from my position on his chest. I keep listening to the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.
“Younger. And we’re not really that close. You know, I didn’t grow up in a very good home either. Although nothing like yours, I’m sure.”
I lift my head to gaze at him. His eyes are downcast, like he has something to be ashamed of, but I’m sure that isn’t true.
“You said your mom used to drink?” I prompt him gently.
“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Actually, my mom drank and did a lot of drugs. Me and Jax were always the kids who showed up to school with holes in our shoes, wearing clothes that were the wrong sizes and hadn’t seen a wash in a while. We just…”
He pauses for a breath. “You know how your mom is supposed to be the one person that cares about you more than anything else? Like, you always hear about moms going above and beyond for their kids? My mom wasn’t like that. My mom was broken. Me and Jax came after a lot of other stuff on her priority list.”
My heart breaks for him, in that moment. I know exactly how he feels. I swear that I see a tear glistening in his dark blue eye before he blinks it away.
“I am so sorry,” I say, running my hand across his shoulder, starting to stroke him.
“I mean, it’s fine,” he says, resuming rubbing my back.
“No, it’ not fine. It sounds like you had a really shitty upbringing.”
“Yeah, but at least CPS never took us away.” He shrugs. “You still win.”
I can’t help the giggle that emerges from my chest. Jett glances down at me, and I put my hand over my mouth. My laughter apparently upsets Milo, who jumps off the bed and vanishes.
“Sorry. I just… the idea of winning struck me as funny. Who had the worse childhood, the orphan or the alcoholic’s kid?” I say.
“I’m glad I could provide some levity to the situation,” he rumbles.
“Hey, it’s not my fault. I just have a morbid sense of humor.”
“Hah hah,” he says, enunciating each syllable. Jett shifts me a little, and I slide off of him. I brace my head with a hand, and he rolls onto his side to mirror me.
“You want to hear something totally, completely fucked up?” he asks. “I’m only telling you because I think you might be able to relate.”
“Tell me! I promise not to judge.”
“When I was a kid, I used to lie awake at night. You know, I shared the pull out couch with Jax. And he was always a sound sleeper, he would be out the second his head hit the pillow. I was always so envious of that. Anyway, I used to lie awake and listen to whatever was going on in my mom’s bedroom. Her arguing with whoever her boyfriend was that week. Or sometimes they would fuck; I pulled my pillow over my head during that.”
He pauses, then continues. “I used to lie there, with my pillow over my head, and wish that something would happen to my mom. Like, she would get into a car wreck, or die some other common death. And then… in my mind… Jax and I would make it on our own, like the kid from Home Alone.”
His expression is so guilty, I reach out and slip my arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“You were a kid,” I say simply. “You didn’t make it happen.”
“Nah. My mom died of liver failure a few years ago. It would have been a blessing if she’d died in a car crash, honestly. Instead, me and Jax and my aunt were huddled around her hospital bed, watching her tweak out on painkillers. It didn’t seem… pleasant.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just hugged him again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says again, brushing it all under the rug. “Actually, it’s getting pretty late…”
I bite my lip. “You know, you can stay over if you want. Since it’s so late.”
Jett looks at me, his expression unreadable. Then he slowly shakes his head. He disentangles himself from me and starts looking for his clothes.
“I have to get up early,” he says. “It’ll be easier if I’m at my own place.”
He pulls on his pants and then buttons up his shirt.
“What’s your schedule like this week?” I ask, brushing back a lock of my hair.
“Pretty relaxed. You?”
“Relaxed is not a word in my vocabulary, when it comes to work. I’ll be around later at night, though.”
He stuffs his feet in his shoes and smiles. “Alright. Sounds good.”
He heads out. The front door opens and closes, and Jett is gone. I lie back, thinking about what I learned tonight.
Jett is pretty badly damaged, just like me. Like me, you would never guess it from the way he acts. You have to be a part of his inner circle, I guess.
Does that mean I’m part of his inner circle? Maybe.
It also makes sense that I’m so attracted to him. An old therapist said that chemistry is just sensing compatible damage on another person. I think that is right, in light of what I just learned.
I start wondering about Jett, about what it is that he wants from this… well, relationship, I guess.
I want a baby, which I’ve been crystal clear about.
But what does he want? Does he even know?
I roll onto my stomach, sighing.
Chapter Thirteen
Jett
“Two of the salmon filets, please?” I say to the white-outfitted guy behind the meat counter at Whole Foods. He points to two, and I nod. “Yeah, those are perfect.”
I’m planning on cooking dinner for Cady, because I have yet to see her eat anything that didn’t come in a plastic to-go bag. Also, she’s never been to my place. For some reason, I have a feeling that she will be skittish about it.
Thus, I have something to offer, aside from the promise of more sex. Salmon and asparagus and maybe some bread. That sounds pretty good.
And I’ll have her for dessert, my man-brain interjects.
The guy hands me the paper-wrapped salmon, and I head to the bakery section. I pick out a loaf of bread, then wander up to the register. A few minutes later, I’m out the door with my purchases, heading for my car.
I pop the passenger door open and deposit my groceries, then close the door. When I do, I nearly run headlong into Emily. A petite blonde nymph, Emily’s whole face scrunches when she sees that I’m the one who nearly ran into her.
“Jett?” she says, sounding puzzled. As if this Whole Foods isn’t a place I shop for food or something. It’s actually the only place that I ever shopped the whole time that we were together, because it’s around the corner from my house.
“Hey,” I say, unsure how this will go. “It’s… been a while.”
“Yeah, it has,” she says, juggling a grocery bag. She’s wearing a yoga outfit, a white tank top and black stretchy pants, so I figure that’s where she just came from. “You look really good.”
“Uh… thanks,” I say, feeling awkward as fuck. “Umm, you too. You do yoga around here?”
“What?” she says, then looks down at her outfit. “Oh, yeah. My friend just opened a pilates studio right across the way. So… I’ll be around this way a lot more again.”
She says again because she practically lived with me during the last year we were together. I was hesitant about having her move in every time that we talked about it. I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want her to inhabit my space, I guess. It was pretty selfish.
“Right,” I say. I look at my watch, because I’m trying to time my texts to Cady with when she’s getting off of work.
“Listen, the CrossFit gym that I’m a member at has a 5k fun run coming up in a couple of weeks,” she s
ays, juggling the bag of groceries again. “Do you maybe… want to run it with me?”
I dumbstruck for a second. “I… what… a fun run?”
I sound like a complete an utter idiot, repeating her words back to her.
Emily flashes me a grin. “Yeah, you know. Assuming that you haven’t gotten serious with anyone, of course.”
Cady’s face flashes in my mind. Would I call that serious, though?
Cady probably wouldn’t.
“No,” I say, though I already feel like a liar. “No one serious.”
“Cool,” she says, pushing back her blonde hair. “It’s on the seventeenth, if you’re really interested. I think there is an after-party at Fado when it’s over, too. I know you like a good Irish stout after a workout.”
She winks. She’s right, of course. I do like a heavy beer after a hard workout.
The real question is whether or not Emily is really asking me out. I mean, she’s got to be, right? That’s the only reason she’d ask me to run this race with her.
“Right,” I say, jiggling my key fob. “I’ll see if my schedule is free.”
“Great!” she says. She looks down a little. “I’ve missed you a lot since… you know.”
Since you ripped my heart out and stomped on it? I think. But I don’t say it.
“Yeah. I just… why now? I thought that we weren’t ever talking again. You made it pretty clear how you felt when things ended.”
Emily went a little pink. “I was really angry with you. Not my finest moment, I’ll give you. Still, I think that you’ve had some time to see the error of your ways…”
I grit my teeth, even though she is completely right. I know I was in the wrong, without a doubt. But that knowledge doesn’t come from me being… semi-alone… for almost five months. The two aren’t related.
Or are they?
“Right,” I say abruptly. I don’t really have time to sit and philosophize this question right now. I have food to cook, for a girl who couldn’t be more different than Emily.
Yeah, a girl that you’re not sure even likes you, I think. I have a mild freak out, ending the conversation with Emily. “I have to get going. It’s nice seeing you.”
“Call me,” she says, looking worried.
I just wave in her direction, getting into my car as quickly as I can. I pull out, leaving Emily still standing there, making a confused face.
I can appreciate the fact that she’s wondering what the hell is going on with me, because I sure as fuck don’t know. Here I am, getting groceries to try to woo the girl I’m… seeing, or whatever… and there is Emily, sweet and pleasant and eager to please.
Cady could not be more different than Emily. She seems smart, yet difficult and obstinate. Even their looks are completely opposite. Emily is like a sweet bit of fluff that you know will probably give you a stomach ache. Cady offers a deeper, more satisfying connection, but only if you can get her to let you in.
Based on the sex alone, I’d be crazy to pick anyone but Cady. And obviously if there were a relationship, I’d rather date Cady. But if I were going on the ease of connecting, the natural lightness of it, I would consider Emily.
That might just be laziness, though. I honestly don’t know.
I pull into the driveway of my house, a majestic-looking white brick two story affair. I turn off my car, then take a few deep, calming breaths.
You are going to text Cady, and you’re going to make dinner for her. The rest of the shit you have in your head just has to go somewhere else, in a secret black box that is compartmentalized from everything else.
I pull out my phone and text Cady my address. A few seconds later, I hear back from her.
Where is that?
You’ll have to find out, won’t you? I’m here right now, and I have something special planned for you.
Should I wear anything in particular or bring anything?
Just bring yourself and that amazing ass. I have plans for it tonight.
Oh really? I’m intrigued. I’ll be there in about half an hour.
I get out of the car, carrying the groceries into the house and depositing them in the massive white-tiled chef’s kitchen. It’s a shame that I don’t usually cook much, because I think that this kitchen is a cool space. Going around the huge butcher block kitchen island, I put everything away in the Viking fridge.
I go upstairs to change my shirt, opting for a basic black button up to go with my jeans. I take my boots off, preferring to go barefoot in my own house.
When Cady rings the doorbell, I hurry down to the front door. I open it, grinning at her perplexed expression.
“Is this your house?” she says, looking at the uniform bricks and ivy-covered wrought iron accents. I eye her tight pastel pink dress and black heels appreciatively.
“Ding ding ding,” I say, stepping back and sweeping a hand to lead her inside. “Is it not what you imagined?”
She laughs as she steps in. “Not even a little bit. I pictured you having one of those fancy condos downtown, for some reason. Oh my god, this place is amazing.”
She’s wide eyed as I give her a brief tour. “This is the kitchen. This is the library, although I never spent any time here. Here’s the living room…”
I bring her into the living area, a couple of white leather couches clustered around a big screen tv. Like the rest of the house, it’s done with a lot of cedar accents and white walls, only interrupted here and there by well-chosen art.
In other words, I had very little to do with decorating this room.
“I had no idea that your house was so… fashionable,” she says.
“I just picked out the television,” I admit. “The rest of it was an interior designer named Justin.”
“I see,” she says, putting her purse down beside one of the couches. “This is all very illuminating.”
“Is it?” I ask, taking her hand and drawing her close. I kiss her, and her lips are as sweet as anything I’ve ever tasted.
Her hands come up and link behind my neck. I love that she’s still so much smaller than me, that I can dominate her so easily. I slide my hands around her waist, then cup and knead her ass.
It’s difficult not to get pulled in so fast, but I eventually manage to make myself back off.
“I have a surprise for you,” I say, kissing her on the lips a final time before releasing her.
“Yeah?” she says, a flicker of carnal interest in her eyes.
“Come on,” I say. “Come to the kitchen. I’m making you a meal.”
“What?” she says, taken aback. “Like… actual food?”
I lead her by the hand on the way back to the kitchen, chuckling.
“Yep.” I pull out one of the stools sitting under the butcher block kitchen island for her. “Sit.”
She looks curious; I’ll take what I can get, as long as she is willing to play along. I grab an apron out of a drawer, unfolding it with a shake. I turn the oven on, then show off my apron to her.
“Kiss The Cook?” Cady says, amused. “I plan on doing plenty of that tonight.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said I had plans for you later,” I say, hunting down a sheet pan. I pick a spatula out and point it at her. “After the salmon is done, though.”
“Ooooh, salmon?” she says. I hear one of her shoes drop to the floor, then the other.
I turn away, hiding a smug grin over the fact that she’s getting comfy in my house. I don’t want to point that out though, it might scare her off.
“Yeah,” I say. “And asparagus, and fresh bread. You’re getting spoiled tonight.”
She cocks her head. “Any particular reason?”
“Because I couldn’t watch you eat out of one more goddamn takeout container,” I say, grinning at her. “I’m onto you, you know. You’re going to have to eat reasonable meals if you have a kid.”
Her lips thin out as she presses them together. I recognize this look of repressed outrage; Emily used to give me this look all th
e time. “Oh, you’re the expert now, are you?”
I open the fridge and get the salmon and asparagus out, then arrange them on the baking sheet.
“No, I’m just a guy that wants to feed a girl he likes some decent food.”
I glance at her, and I’m glad I did, because she is blushing so damned hard at my words.
“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. It doesn’t matter, though, because I can see that she is pleased and flustered.
I grab the salt and pepper and hit the fish and asparagus, then put it in the oven. I take the bread out of its bag and leave it on the oven to warm it up.
“So has anything interesting happened to you in the last two days?” Cady asks.
I freeze for a second, my mind flashing back to the Whole Foods parking lot. I know that’s not what she is talking about, but it is certainly the most interesting thing to happen to me in the last forty-eight hours.
I straighten up, turning to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… tell me what’s going on, you know? In your life.” She gives me an odd look.
Man, do I feel guilty. I feel like I did something dirty, hiding a filthy secret from her. Except, I haven’t done anything. As far as I know, we’re not even exclusive. And all I did was talk to Emily.
I’m making too much of this, I can tell. “I don’t know. I’ve just been working, mostly.”
“Ah. Well, I have some office gossip that’s pretty good,” she says, breezily. “My big boss and his secretary apparently got caught in the supply closet together. Everybody is in a complete tizzy about it. Even Olive cares, apparently, though I don’t know why. I hardly got anything done today because people kept stopping by to chat.”
She uses air quotes on the last word, rolling her eyes. She looks at me, expecting some kind of reaction, and I manage a smile.
“That’s pretty good,” I say. “Last year, my boss’s wife left him for a lady in accounting, and everyone was aghast.”
“Oooooh, that’s juicy!” Cady says with a laugh. “How long did the gossip last?”
“Way too long.” I get a block of butter out of the fridge.
