by BJ Harvey
I laugh, my smile widening. “Cocky.”
“It’s not being cocky if I know I’m right.”
I sigh and shift back in my seat. “Oh alright then.” I cross my arms over my chest for added effect.
Jax chuckles and gives my leg a gentle squeeze. “Wait there. I’ll come around and get you.”
When he reaches the passenger side, I’m already halfway out. He holds his hand out to me, and I love the feel of my skin sliding against his as I lace our fingers together.
“You ready for this?” I ask, suddenly feeling wary.
“I’ve got you by my side. I could move mountains right now.”
My gaze drops to Jax’s tanned, muscular arms. “Now I’m having mountain man fantasies.”
He drops his head and groans. “Ronnie, don’t make me meet your parents with a hard-on. It wouldn’t make a good impression.”
I meet his gaze and breathe a silent sigh of relief that I have him by my side.
His eyes flash with heat as he shifts to stand between me and the house. Lifting his hand to cup my jaw, he sweeps his thumb over my cheek. I lean into his touch. “You’re absolutely fucking spectacular, and I’m in awe of your strength, determination, and the balls it took for you to draw your line in the sand and go after the life you truly want.” My eyes sting with tears. “You’re amazing, Veronica Nelson, and that’s all you. No one can ever take that away.”
My breath hitches and I try to duck my head, but he flexes his fingers to stop me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He dips his chin and brushes his lips against mine. “I’ll always look out for you, Barbie. That’s my job.”
“I thought GI Joe was the protective one. Didn’t Bry volunteer?” I smirk, and his eyes narrow, a look I know probably means he’s contemplating kissing me again—and not a quick, appropriate peck.
He shakes his head. “One twin is not enough?”
“Oh, you’re more than enough. Although, it has been a while. Maybe I need a reminder of what you’re bringing to the table.” My smile broadens when he groans.
“You love to torture me, don’t you?”
“I like to think of it as motivation.”
“Glad it’s appreciated,” he muses.
“I appreciate everything about you, Jax. Now, we better go inside before they send out a search party.”
“Let them,” he says with a grin. “Maybe I want to appreciate you a little more.”
I roll my eyes but smile at the same time. He sighs and shakes his head, something I’ve noticed he often does when he’s around me.
He steps back so he’s standing beside me again. “Lead the way, Barbie.”
“Sure thing, Ken.”
We make our way up the opulent—expensive—steps leading to the front door and ring the doorbell.
Jax looks over the front of the house. It’s more modern than the pink lady but there are definitely features that I’m sure would work well on the Dream House too. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone just as the giant slab of wood in front of us swings open to a smiling, brunette, and ever so slightly older version of me.
“Ronnie bear,” Gilly says excitedly, stepping forward and pulling me in for a big hug.
I squeeze her tight. “Long time no see.”
When we finally pull away, my sister’s eyes turn to Jax. “And you must be the naughty professor,” she says with a wink.
“Behave,” I warn, half-heartedly. I reach out my hand, which Jax takes willingly. “Gilly, meet Jax.”
“Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with a laugh. I sigh and roll my eyes at my not-so-subtle sister. Jax chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in close.
“Is that right?” he asks, sounding more than a little amused.
“Yep. By the way, I’d love to see the not-so-sneaky photos you took of her when you thought she wasn’t looking. They tortured her for so long. I thought she was going to spontaneously combust with curiosity and frustration by the end of it.”
“What can I say?” He looks down at me with a half-smirk. “She’s a captivating subject.”
We stare at each other, and I almost forget we have an audience until that audience starts making gagging noises.
“When you guys are finished eye-fucking each other, we can go inside.” Gilly taps her foot expectantly, her hand on her hip in a way reminiscent of our mother.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, stepping forward and holding my hand back for Jax. Something about having him by my side buoys me and makes me feel impervious to any barbs that may be thrown my way tonight.
“I’ve got you, Barbie,” he murmurs for my ears only.
I tilt my head his way. “You’re about to find out exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”
As soon as we enter the formal dining room, my mother jumps into her role as the dutiful wife and hostess.
“Veronica, you’re here,” she says, all smiles and warmth. She comes toward me, puts her hands on my shoulders, and gives me air kisses on either side of my face. “You look well.”
“You too, Sheila,” I say. I don’t need to turn around to imagine Jax’s expression. It’s probably the same one I’ve seen many times when people find out I call my parents by their first names.
My parents stopped being Mom and Dad to me at age nine when I was firmly instructed to call them Sheila and Vincent when in the company of others. Me being a surly, sassy, and strong-willed almost-teen decided to take it further and immediately stopped thinking of them as my mother and father. From that point on, there was an unseen separation between myself and the people who brought me into the world.
If it weren’t for Gilly and my previously held, misguided obligation to my parents, I would have left them behind a long time ago, and wouldn’t have wasted years living a life I never wanted in the first place.
“How are you?” I ask, my posture shifting instinctively, as if a string is being pulled tight between my shoulder blades, my head held so high and still I could rest a book on it.
“I’m well. You’re looking good. Have you lost weight?” Sheila says. I feel Jax at my side, his arm snaking around my waist. His body is tense and a glance his way finds a jaw so tight he’s likely in danger of snapping something.
“Must be my outfit,” I say, fighting the instinct to offer a snarky reply. My mother isn’t nasty; she’s just clueless when it comes to being considerate of other people’s feelings. Though she has always been appreciative of platitudes. “Thank you, Sheila. You’re looking good. Are you still seeing Julian the trainer?”
Julian the trainer has been working out with her in a number of horizontal ways I don’t care to think of for at least ten years.
“I am. He’s a miracle worker.” Finally, she acknowledges the man at my side. “And you must be Jaxon. We’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
“Subtle, Sheila,” I mutter under my breath.
Her eyes snap to mine. “Veronica. Manners,” she scolds.
I quirk a brow, wondering why I’d expected anything more. If they treat Jax badly, there won’t be any decorum left for me to uphold because I will not stand by and let them belittle him for any reason.
“Sheila,” I say, pointedly. “Jax and I are your guests, and we deserve to be spoken and referred to as such.”
Her silent gasp and narrow eyes bounce off me as I step sideways to get past her, grabbing Jax’s hand and walking past her toward the obnoxiously large dining table. Unfortunately, this brings us into my father’s domain.
“Vincent,” I say with a nod, ignoring my mother’s posturing behind our backs.
“Veronica. Jaxon.” My father sweeps his arm out like a ruling king on his throne. “Please take a seat. Dinner will be served shortly.” He pins Jax with a stare. “Jaxon, what can we get you to drink?”
Jax pulls out a chair for me right next to Gilly before pushing it back in once I’m seated. He
takes his place beside me before answering. “A white wine if Ronnie is having one. Otherwise, water will be fine.”
I want to pump my fist at Jax calling me Ronnie. Vincent nods and waves his hand to their waiter, Richard, waiting by the kitchen door.
Richard turns toward us and shoots me a wink before leaving the room.
Jax elbows me, gaining my attention and quirks a brow.
“Long story,” I mouth.
His lips twitch. “Dirty story?” he mouths back.
A scrunched up face is my answer. Eww, no. Richard is more like a much older brother. But just Jax asking the question has eased the tension that was holding my body hostage.
Sheila takes her place at the opposite end of the table from her husband.
From Jax’s perspective, this entire scene must seem comical. His family dinners are survival of the fittest. It’s first in, first served where food is concerned, a far cry from the stale and cold situation we’re in now.
So grateful to have him by my side, I reach out and rest my hand on his leg. I smile when he covers my fingers with his own and gives them a gentle squeeze.
We sit there in awkward silence, nobody saying a single word. I find myself holding my breath until Richard re-enters the room with two glasses of white wine on his tray.
He rounds the table and places them in front of us before moving back to the edge of the room. “Mr. Nelson, Mrs. Nelson, Ms. Nelson, would you also like refreshments?”
“I’m fine,” Gilly pipes up.
My gaze goes from Vincent to Sheila, then back to Vincent. “Not right now, Richard. Please advise the chef we are ready for dinner to be served.”
Richard nods and leaves once more, the room falling quiet again.
“Jaxon, tell us about yourself. How did you meet Veronica?” Vincent asks, cradling his half-drunk tumbler.
“His brother is engaged to April,” I say, hoping to divert what I sense is going to be a deep interrogation. Even more likely is the fact that Vincent knows the answer to this question already, thanks to the inevitable and mandatory background check he performs on anyone connected to the family. I should’ve warned Jax that he’d likely be treated like an opposing client by my father.
This round of questioning is thankfully interrupted by two of the kitchen staff distributing plates in front of each of us.
Once they’ve left the room, Vincent grabs his glass and holds it up in the air. “Let’s make a toast before we start our meal. To family and successful futures.”
I make the mistake of glancing his way, a gleam in his eye and curved up corner of his mouth confirming he knows his barb scores a hit.
Going by the flex of Jax’s fingers against my knee, it was subtle but definitely not missed. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything; I half expected him to speak, and if he had, it wouldn’t have helped matters. Vincent thrives on confrontation—one of the reasons I spent years not reacting, and when I did, he never saw it coming or had time to stop it.
I played the long game with my father. Years of this exact treatment and their ‘looking down their noses’ mentality helped me make up my mind about quitting the firm and following my passion. Gilly and I used to joke that I was dropped off at the wrong house by the stork because my attitude, my empathy, my view of the world, and my loyalty to my friends and family does not come from my parents. Gilly is like me in all of those respects but she honestly enjoys being a lawyer and working for our father’s firm. Part of me wonders if she still plays the big sister role to this day. She’s always had my back and always will, defending me to my father is just one of many ways she does this.
At thirty, I didn’t want my big sister to have to do that anymore. At thirty-one, I know she’ll do it regardless.
I focus on the dinner plate in front of me, tilting my head toward Jax and meeting his warm eyes, sending him a half-smirk when he winks at me.
“Dad, how did that mediation go this afternoon? You were still in the conference room when I left,” Gilly asks,
“You mean when you left early?” Vincent says, lifting one perfectly arched brow.
“Indeed. Early starts mean occasionally, one should be allowed an early finish, right Dad?” If there was ever a woman to challenge my father, it’s my big sister.
After a staring match, my father bows out rather quickly, giving Gilly a curt nod before he returns to his meal while circling back to Jax. “Jaxon, you were telling us about meeting our daughter?” Vincent says.
“You can call me Jax.”
My father nods. “Jax, then.”
“I met her through April, who is marrying my brother Jamie.”
“And you’re teaching at Veronica’s college I hear.” Or your investigator told you.
“I am. She’s in one of my photography classes.”
“Is that something not frowned upon by the faculty?” my mother asks, injecting herself into the conversation for the first time.
“There is a fraternization policy, but relationships that begin before a student starts are allowed as long as they are disclosed,” Jax replies, sounding cool, calm, and collected. He’s a quick study, because any sign of weakness or uncertainty will not be missed by either one of my parents, and will certainly be pounced on.
“I see,” Sheila murmurs, staring across the table at her husband, so many unspoken words shared in that look.
“And during your spare time?” Vincent continues after a beat, turning back to Jax.
“I’m a freelance photographer, and I’m also working with my three brothers in the property-development field.”
He nods. “Ah yes, I had heard you were flipping houses.”
“That’s the one,” Jax replies. “We’ve been doing that for almost fourteen months now.”
“It can be quite lucrative if it’s done right.”
My body grows tense, my father’s tone holding an edge that I recognize and do not like when it’s being used toward a man I care about.
Jax chuckles, not looking away from my father’s pointed gaze. “We’re doing quite well so far. We’re learning more and more with every new project we work on.”
Vincent nods and seemingly lets it go. A tense silence fills the room as we focus on eating the delicious yet very pretentious meal served to us.
“How’s work?” I ask Gilly, shifting my body to face her.
“Good. Busy, but good. Lots of big cases are coming through.”
“Putting in long hours again, then?”
“Yep. But you know I love it,” she says with an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss Vegas for the world.”
“Vegas?” Sheila asks, placing her cutlery on her plate and lifting her crisp white napkin to her mouth. “Why on earth would you both be going to Vegas?” She says it like it’s the most disgusting place on earth. “Gillian, I wouldn’t have thought it was your sort of place.”
Oh, but definitely mine… I open my mouth, but Gilly gets in first.
“I love Las Vegas. It’s not all about getting drunk, getting married, and gambling, Mom. We’re going for April and Jamie’s joint bachelor and bachelorette weekend.”
Sheila tuts but wisely drops the subject, instead turning her attention to the man at my side once again. “And Jaxon, what do you think about Veronica abandoning her successful career on a whim?”
I drop my fork onto the plate, the clanging sound of metal hitting the expensive dinnerware bouncing off the stale walls. Oh, she did not just say that.
“I think she’s very brave to have the conviction to go after what she wants,” Jax replies without missing a beat. I look over at him, the pride shining back at me so touching. It hits me then just how totally head over heels I am for the man.
I dip my head, murmuring a soft “thank you” for his ears only. He drops his arm and brushes his thumb over the top of my knee, and I know he heard me.
“She was a force to be reckoned with in negotiations,” my
father says, surprising me with his praise. He’s always been a ‘criticize in order to motivate’ kind of man.
“That force has definitely not gone away, Mr. Nelson. Your daughter is one of the most tenacious, focused, and self-motivated women I’ve ever met.”
“Yet she walked away from a very good position and future partnership on a whim,” my father says, holding firm and unequivocal in his belief that he is right and I was very much wrong in making the decision I did.
I glare at him, the tension in my head increasing. “It was not a whim, Vincent. I left to follow my own interests, something I had communicated to you many times.”
“Does anyone want another drink?” Gilly says, stepping into the fray, but I’ve had enough.
“I don’t think you’ll ever accept the fact that after years of toeing the family line, I made a decision for me. I finally had enough of doing things that made me miserable and, considering I’m not getting any younger, decided it was high time I went out on my own in search of the me I’ve always wanted to be.”
“At the expense of your family, has it really been worth it? You’re living in a condo in a neighborhood that’s far beneath any child of mine, and you’re studying photography with a professor who you’re now dating, which is questionable and could cause issues with you completing your qualification. That is not the kind of life I envisioned for any daughter of mine, and this man is not the kind of future I wanted you to have either,” Vincent says, shouting by the end of his rant.
I jump when Jax dumps his cutlery onto his plate and pushes his chair back from the table with a loud scrape. My head snaps his way and then up, meeting his angry eyes before he turns his tight expression to my father.
“You have absolutely no idea who Ronnie is or the type of person she is now. She is happy; she lights up any room she walks into. She’s also determined and ambitious and loyal. So loyal, in fact, she brought me into your home knowing this would be the kind of reception we would get. She did it for Gilly and she did it for me, because that’s the kind of person she is. She did it knowing you would belittle and criticize her and try to get one up on me. I will not ever stand by and let anyone…” his voice is low, menacing, and absolutely resolute now, “. . . tear her apart or bring her down when she is far too good for the likes of you and your wife. I may not be the man you wanted your daughter to be with, but your opinion of me will not keep me up at night. The only person whose opinion of me I care about is Ronnie. If she’s happy—if I make her happy—that is all that matters.”
