by Portia Moore
Crushed
Collided Book Two
Portia Moore
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Let’s Connect
Also by Portia Moore
1
No. This isn’t possible. It’s not freaking possible.
I met his dad.
I met both of his parents. Jackson was not the one in the picture at our house. This is a mistake, I’m hallucinating…no, I’m in hell! My head is spinning. What do I do? What do I say? This is bad, so fucking bad. How is this possible? I met Alex’s dad, but seeing Jackson beside Alex, it’s almost unmistakable, it’s undeniable. Their full lips, dark hair, and mesmerizing eyes. Please wake up. Wake the fuck up!
I’m going to throw up!
“Babe?” Alex’s strong arm is now around my waist and I realize I must be looking like a complete lunatic. Jackson has pulled himself together. The shock and recognition of me, who I am to his son, was gone as if it was never there. He holds out his hand to me, smiling warmly, like any father meeting his son’s girlfriend for the first time would. But we haven’t met for the first time, and the hand he’s extending to me has been all over my body.
“It’s a pleasure,” he says, and I’d laugh at the irony of his statement if this wasn’t such a nightmare. Then I realize he isn’t clarifying what Alex has said and announcing that he’s in love with me, or asking why the hell I’m here with his son.
He’s not going to say anything.
He’s pretending like we never met, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or offended. It’s on me now, the ball’s in my court. And I can’t speak, because how do you speak when you can’t think?!
I should tell the truth. That’s the answer and the right thing to do. But what do I do, blurt out that he’s not supposed to be your dad because I’ve fucked him? How do I explain this here, at his sister’s engagement party, and while Jackson is looking at me as if I’m a complete stranger? I can’t say anything. I can’t make a monumental decision now, as that’s what it would be.
What I do next will change things for everyone here. I’m trying to think but my cognitive skills have lapsed.
I take his hand, ignoring the familiarity of it, trying not to think of how that hand has held my face as he kissed me, been all over my body, inside…
“Madison,” I say calmly, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I speak. How is my voice so even, so collected, as if I’m really meeting this man for the first time?
I’m left frozen in place as Jackson lets go of my hand and turns towards Alex, enveloping him in a hug. None of that masculine side-hug nonsense. Jackson is thrilled to see his son. His fucking son! Oh God oh God oh God.
This is the family you almost broke up. The thought slices through my brain. I’m hot, the temperature feeling like it’s been set to hell, which makes sense because this is hell.
Alex is stiff as Jackson hugs him, but then his arms slowly come up to return the hug. There’s a story there, a story I should have known from one of them! How did Jackson not mention a son? How does Alex have two dads? I know there is a difficult history that I’m not aware of from the stiffness in his back and the tense expression Tiffany is looking on at them with. This situation is getting more complex by the second, and I’m not here for it. But I am here for it, I’m smack dab in the middle of this catastrophe.
“It’s good to see you Alex,” Jackson says, his smile broad and all for Alex. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t either. I didn’t even know that this was happening,” Alex says in return. He hasn’t looked at me, and I thank God. If he looks at me he’ll have to see it.
He knows me.
He’ll see that Madison fucked his dad!
“But now that I know, I’m so happy for you Tiffany,” Alex says genuinely and she beams at him. They’re trying to mend bridges but have no idea me and their dad did something that will blow it the fuck up!
“Are you staying for the whole brunch?” Jackson asks, glancing back at the room, which is steadily filling with guests.
“If that’s okay,” Alex jokes.
“Of course they are, Dad,” Tiffany scolds him, nudging Jackson in the arm with the smile of a six-year-old princess. “We all have to get to know Madison. And I know you don’t want to miss the chance to beat Alex in poker, yet again.”
“Who say’s he’s going to beat me?” Alex says playfully.
I’m dizzy. This is real. This is happening.
“Well, sounds like that’s a good reason to practice.” Jackson grins at his son, still not looking at me, and I’m grateful he doesn’t.
“Come on,” Tiffany says, tugging at my hand. “Let’s go get you fixed up.”
I follow Tiffany up the stairs, my head spinning. How am I supposed to focus, how am I supposed to pretend? I have to pull it together; except I don’t know what will happen once I do.
How do you prepare yourself for something like this?
I’m only momentarily distracted by looking around Tiffany’s bedroom as she whisks me inside. It’s freakin' gorgeous, like the rest of the mansion. The carpet is thick, so plush that my feet sink into it as we walk in, a cream color that is just a few shades darker than the walls. It’s like a room for a grown-up princess, from the wooden four-poster bed with glossy cream-colored sheets, embroidered pillowcases and a rose-colored velvet duvet, to the rose velvet curtains that are pulled back to expose French doors leading out to a balcony and massive windows, to the gilt-framed art scattered across the walls. There’s an antique wardrobe, a vanity with expensive skincare and makeup scattered across it, and a huge television mounted on one wall. Everything about it is sophisticated, luxurious, and expensive without being tacky, just like Tiffany herself.
She stops and turns to look at me, her lips pursing slightly. “Madison, are you alright? You look kind of pale.”
What if I told her the truth? I had an affair with your dad, and he was the first man I ever came close to loving…but now I’m definitely in love with your brother.
Is there any tactful way to say that?
She’d throw me out after calling me a slut, she’ll be horrified and run and tell Alex, and who would blame her? So I nod and force a smile on my face. “I’m fine,” I manage, and it even sounds genuine when I say it. “Just a little tired, it’s been a hectic few days.”
“Well here, this should perk you right up.” Tiffany crosses to the vanity, where I see a bottle of champagne that I hadn’t noticed before. She pours a glass and hands it to me. Oh how I want to be drunk right now, but I know better. I need a clear head and a stiff tongue, and nothing opens my lips and legs like alcohol, both of which need to be snapped shut.
So I only take a sip as Tiffany throws open the closet door and steps inside—of course it’s a walk-in. I hover at the edge of it and see rows of obviously elegant dresses and expensive shoes. She pushes dresses aside, clearly hunting for something specific.
The gigantic closet still isn’t a distraction; my thoughts are only on them. Father
and son. I have to leave. What if Jackson is telling him everything right now, or what if Alex has some sort of sixth sense?
How could this have happened? I keep asking myself that same question over and over again as Tiffany pulls dress after dress down, tossing them over her arm. What are the odds that I met Jackson’s son while we were on vacation together in Miami?
Jackson told me we were there on business but was it family business? And then I meet Alex again, on the other side of the country, get a job with him, and fall in love with him? It’s some kind of insane cosmic joke, except I’m not laughing. In fact, I feel on the verge of hysterical tears. If this was a romantic drama it’d be fate, but this is a horror film. This is why I’ve avoided love for so long, because ridiculous shit like this happens. It’s bound to fail, whether for ordinary reasons or extraordinary ones like this, it’s probably just not in the cards for me.
Tiffany walks out past me, dumping the armful of clothes on the bed. “You can pick any of these,” she says cheerfully. “All of them should fit you. I really think this would be gorgeous with your complexion, though…” She holds up a mint lace dress, with cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a hem that ends just above the knees. “Or this one?” She picks up a silk halter-neck dress in rose-gold.
“I’ll try this one,” I say, trying not to sound frantic, and I disappear into the bathroom. It’s as equally luxurious as the rest of the house. I shimmy out of my own clothes and slip on Tiffany’s dress. I’m taken back to my time with Jackson, to days filled with dresses like the one I’m putting on and rooms like the one I’m in, a level of luxury that I had never really seen until then. I thought it was all genuine, that he gave me all of those things because he loved me. He says he does still love me; he said that less than a month ago. My stomach is rolling, not with butterflies, but giant mutants trampling around in there.
Could Alex ever accept the fact that I didn’t just date but slept with his dad? And even if he gets past that, being in Alex’s life will mean seeing Jackson—maybe not regularly, but at least from time to time. It will mean I’ll never entirely be rid of Jackson, the memories, the shame, the pain that came with our relationship. I’ll have to face it forever and live with the knowledge that his family knows exactly what happened.
Alex will never look at me the same. How could he? How do you get past your significant other screwing your parent?
How would I deal with losing Alex? He’s the first man where the thought of losing him makes me feel hopeless, distraught, and terrified.
I walk out of the bathroom on unsteady feet, and Tiffany claps her hands joyfully, the gargantuan diamond on her left hand glittering in the sunlight. “You look amazing, Madison!” she exclaims, gesturing towards a full-length, gilt-edged mirror on the other side of the bed. “Just look!”
I have to admit, she’s right. The color highlights my skin tone and loose, wavy hair, and when she produces a pair of strappy nude Louboutin heels to go with it, I can’t help but enjoy the feeling for a minute as I step into them. I feel elegant and sexy, and if I don’t think about Jackson, I can take some pleasure in thinking about the look on Alex’s face when he sees me in this getup.
“I have jewelry you can borrow,” Tiffany says, but I shake my head. My gold hoops and bangle bracelet will have to do. I’m not risking wearing the kind of jewelry I know Tiffany must have. I’m already scared of spilling something on this dress, which is probably worth more than I make in month.
“Tiffany, there’s something I don’t understand. I met Alex’s parents. I met his dad,” I explain to her carefully and she smiles softly at me, not in the least bit offended.
“That was his mom and stepdad. They’re great. The time I spent with them as a child was amazing; they’re so warm and kind, and were like parents to me. I mean, my dad and mom were so young and Alex’s parents are too, but his actually acted like parents whereas mine...” She stops suddenly as if censoring herself.
“My parents met after Alex’s mom and dad. They were really young; she wasn’t even out of high school when she had Alex. She married John when Alex was three and I was in my mom’s tummy. John raised Alex; he was his father until Dad grew up.” She trails off and shakes her head quickly. “They’ll come to the wedding, of course, but they’re not coming to the brunch today. Things are a little…awkward between my grandparents and Alex’s mom. They never really liked her, and honestly I think it might have had something to do with their breakup.” She waves a hand. “A lot of that’s under the bridge. Don’t get me wrong, my dad is amazing now. It just didn’t start out that way as he tried to balance a family and work, but he did still manage time to really be there for us, you know? Showed up at school plays, ballet recitals, the works. He wasn’t one of those rich absentee dads, I don’t want you to think that. He just wasn’t a John,” she says wistfully.
She puts the brow pencil down and straightens, turning to face me. “And it’s been my fault that my father and Alex haven’t been getting along…after what happened with Holly. He’s told you about that?” she asks cautiously.
I nod, not wanting to say too much. I’m terrified I’ll let something slip about Jackson. My head swims a little. I shouldn’t have finished that glass of champagne. My small breakfast is swirling in my stomach.
“It’s my fault what happened, but I’m hoping today, and the wedding, will bring them together again. Weddings are good for that, you know. Healing families, making everyone see how important just loving each other is. I really want that to be what happens as a result of Phillip and I getting married.”
Tiffany is the picture of what could be a spoiled socialite—rich, thin, beautiful, blonde. But I can tell from the way she’s speaking, from the look in her eyes, that she’s genuinely telling the truth. And it makes me feel even worse that I could be the cause of a totally new division in the family.
“Come on,” Tiffany says, smiling. “My mom should be here by now, I’ll introduce you.”
Oh no, I think as I follow her downstairs.
Jackson’s wife.
The woman he cheated on with me.
How the hell do I get out of this?
2
She’s beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. Jackson’s wife. “Madison, this is my mother, Cassandra.” Tiffany beams at me. “Mom, this is Madison. She’s dating Alex.”
Cassandra is model-tall, with a perfect figure, thick wavy blonde hair that matches her daughter’s, flawless skin, and not a wrinkle in sight—she doesn’t have the plastic, overdone look so many middle-aged rich women who are trying to cling to their looks have. Everything about her is natural. Well, her boobs might not be, but the skin and hair and perfect model frame are all natural. I only can hope to look like her once I’m her age.
Why the hell would Jackson cheat on a woman like this? I figured she had gotten fat, or was a shrill and angry bitch, but she’s clearly beautiful, and she’s smiling at me with the same warmth as her daughter, although it’s much more reserved. Nothing about it makes sense—it’s like Jay-Z cheating on Beyoncé. I guess that might have happened too, but men are such idiotic bastards.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Madison,” Cassandra says kindly, extending a perfectly manicured hand out to me. Her nails are opaque pink, elegant and subdued, like the fitted navy dress she’s wearing. She’s sexy in an understated way.
It’s taking all I have to keep it together. This is the woman whose husband I slept with. And now I’m lying to her son by default. I almost broke up her family. It doesn’t matter that I walked out on Jackson the second I knew, that I didn’t go back to him, that I refused to be the other woman. I was for a while, and all the shame and pain of that time washes over me like a tidal wave.
“I’m glad to be invited,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “I didn’t know it was celebrating an engagement! It’s really kind of your family to include me in this.”
“You’re clearly a big part of Alex�
�s life, so it’s important that you be a part of things too.” Cassandra lets go of my hand, smiling sweetly. “So, what do you do, Madison?”
It’s a relief to be able to talk about work. Something neutral and easy. “I’m a freelance graphic designer,” I say. “And I do some serving on the side. That’s how I met Alex, actually. He helped me get the job.”
“Madison is being modest,” Tiffany says, grinning. “She’s the reason Alex’s bartending is blowing up. You remember how his Instagram used to look, don’t you?”
Cassandra snorts delicately. “You know I don’t even know how to use that.”
Tiffany giggles. “Well, it was a disgrace,” she declares, glancing at me. “And Madison fixed it up, made him a website, helped him put good photos up, and promote it so that he would get some traction. She’s incredible with social media. Honestly, he owes all his success to her.”
“That’s a little bit of an exaggeration,” I say, but I’m glowing at the praise. It’s enough to distract me from the reality of the situation for a moment. “All the promotions in the world wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t deliver on it. And he’s amazing at what he does, too.”
“I’m so glad to see someone really appreciate him,” Cassandra says. “My son hasn’t been as lucky in love as I would have wished for him, as I’m sure he’s told you.”
He sure as hell hasn’t been. My heart breaks for Alex, realizing what all this could do to him.
“He has,” I say quietly.
“I hope you enjoy the party, Madison.” She glances at Tiffany. “Sweetheart, have you seen your father? Gerda and Mark are looking for him.”
