Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
We started to drive. I fretted every time someone slowed in front of us. Each time we stopped at a set of lights, I thought I might die.
“Please get me home,” I sounded miserable.
He looked at me. “Why don’t we stop somewhere?”
There was no way that I’d be able to negotiate a public bathroom stall by myself. It was logistically impossible. “My dress is too big. I don’t have my bridesmaid here.”
Car horns blared as he did a California lane change, drove over a meridian and pulled a dramatic U-turn to park in a no-parking zone in front of a small Italian bistro. “I’ll help you.”
My eyes were wide with horror. “Jackson, no.”
“Come on, let’s go.”
This man was fearless. If I weren’t so scared that I was going to pee myself, I'd refuse. He grabbed my hand as we walked into the bistro.
The place bustled with the Saturday brunch crowd and we stopped everyone in their tracks with our entrance. Jackson towered with a busted lip and a scowl on his face, tugging behind him the young runaway bride with a desperate look on her face. Blasting past the startled hostess, he weaved through the tables. At the back, he pushed open a door and shoved me into the small bathroom before locking the door behind him.
I decided I would rather pee on my dress than have this man help me with my skirt.
“So, do we take this off first or what?” he asked in a matter of fact voice, as he studied my dress.
“I don’t have my button hook.”
“What’s a button hook?”
“I need it to take off my dress.”
“So, you want me to hold your skirts while you sit down?”
I shook my head, my shame complete.
“Turn around,” he said. I felt him start to lift layers and layers of organza. “Jesus. Are you actually underneath all of this?”
“Jackson,” I wailed.
He was standing behind me and had my entire skirt pulled up above my waist. “Your modesty is safe with me. I can’t see past all of this fluff.”
We shuffled over to the toilet where I managed to sit down.
And I sat.
We both waited.
I thought my bladder was going to burst but still, I could not pee.
“I thought you said you had to go.”
“I can’t do it with you here.”
We waited some more.
He started to talk. “The training exercise I hated the most was the box.”
“What is the box?”
“They lock you in a wooden box that is so small you can only kneel with your head bent. Your hands are cuffed behind your back, and you’re blindfolded. It is disgustingly hot. The soundtrack that they play at full volume is death rock, dogs barking or my personal favorite, babies crying. The first time I did the box I was in there for 20 hours without relief. I pissed myself at least six times.”
I started to pee.
“Who are these people? Why would they do that to you?”
“It trains us to mentally withstand the pressure of captivity.”
“And you really peed yourself?”
“My friend, Chris, did worse things to himself in his box.”
I started to laugh. “This story isn’t true. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“It’s true. But if you ever tell Chris I told you that, he'd kill me.”
His story impacted me on so many levels. Jackson always knew what to say to make me feel better. It gave me a glimpse of how horrible his job must be, and it intrigued me that he had a friend. I only knew Jackson in my world. I couldn’t imagine him in his.
“Feel better?”
I nodded. He watched me while I washed my hands. My complexion looked translucent. My hair was artfully pinned up. I looked impossibly young. Behind me loomed Jackson’s massive frame. I drank in his black suit, messy hair and cut lip. We were so mismatched in appearances it wasn’t even funny.
“I left because it was so good I couldn’t resist.”
He opened the door and grabbed my hand. We started walking through the restaurant, and we were halfway through the place when I realized that he was talking about the sex we had. I stumbled, and his hand tightened on mine.
He looked back at me, amused. “Just got that?”
Back in the truck, I looked over at this man who mesmerized me on so many levels. I didn’t even know which way was up.
He didn’t ask to come up to the loft. He just parked the truck, got out and led me up the stairs. Chloe almost lost her mind when she saw Jackson. She leaped into his arms. I watched her entire body tremble while she whined and licked his face. Despite the fact that he was wearing a suit, he laughed and cuddled her close to his chest.
I found my bag, my keys, the button hook and my phone on the island along with a note from Beth, “Hope you’re okay. Text me when you get home.”
I looked around the loft. Matt was nowhere in sight.
“Can you help me get out of this dress?”
Without looking back to see if he was following me, I swished up the stairs to my bedroom. He appeared behind me, and without speaking, he took the buttonhook from my hand and opened all the buttons until the heavy material was sliding off my body.
“Oh, thank God,” I breathed, stepping over the pool of white that piled at my feet. “That feels so good.”
I turned and looked over my shoulder. Jackson’s eyes were raking down my body. I blushed when I realized that I was standing there in only a white lace bustier and matching panties.
The hunger in his expression was evident.
“Jackson,” I started.
He turned to walk out of my bedroom. “Come downstairs when you're done. We need to talk.”
I changed into soft, stretchy clothes and pulled all the pins out of my hair. I washed my face and then sat down on my bed. I just needed to catch my breath mentally. Jackson’s reaction to everything was different than what I had imagined. I wasn’t sure why I had been afraid to tell him in the first place.
Not that it changed anything. He openly admitted, after hearing the news, that he didn’t want kids. So, I would be raising this child alone, but at least I was doing so with honesty. I had almost married Matt. Beth had been right. It would have been a colossal mistake to not only marry Matt but to start our marriage with such a big secret between us.
I sighed. Since Matt’s accident, I felt like I had been some actor in a really dramatic show. I had only been a supporting character in my own life, and I hadn’t been honest with anyone, including myself. Today’s scene at the wedding had been extremely humiliating, but at least my secrets were out in the open. I had nothing to hide anymore. Now I could plan my future.
I woke up curled on the end of my bed, on top of the covers. Someone had come in and covered me with a fuzzy throw. My mouth was parched, and I was ravenous. I sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost 8 PM. I had slept the entire day away. I sighed. Jackson was probably long gone and who knows where Matt was.
I wandered downstairs and chugged a glass of water. At the island, I scrolled through my phone. 47 texts and counting. Nothing like a little drama to heat up your social life. Beth said that Matt and Julie were both blowing up her phone. She had lost her earring but then found it. Did I want to go for coffee tomorrow? Matt wrote me a series of texts that had so many expletives, that it was safe to say that he was still in the venting stage. And Julie sent me a text that simply said, “You betraying bitch.”
“You hungry?” a voice said from behind me.
I screamed and spun around. Jackson wore a mild expression.
I held my hand to my beating heart. “Do they train you to sneak up on people?”
“Yes.”
“Figures.”
“Did you have a good sleep?”
“You should’ve woken me.”
“You needed the sleep.”
“What did you do?”
“Worked out. Made some calls. Talked to Matt.”
My mouth dropped open. “He called you?”
Jackson dug through the fridge. “Want a sandwich? ”
“Did Matt call you?”
“He was here.”
My mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“I’m surprised we didn’t wake you.”
What happened?”
“We had words.”
“What kind of words?”
“He wanted to talk to you.”
I pondered that statement for a moment. I imagined Matt charging in here, all fired up, and Jackson stopped him from coming near me.
“You could’ve woken me. I owe him an explanation.”
“He needs to dial it down a notch before he talks to you.”
“He was upset?”
“Yup.”
“At me?”
“At us.”
I sat and watched as he started making my sandwich. “I think he gets a pass on being upset.”
He shrugged. “Matt is entitled to his feelings. He’s no longer allowed to take those feelings out on you.”
And that is why this situation was so complicated. I’m bad at standing up for myself. People tend to steamroll me. And I let them. I don’t like it, but I have trouble managing that. It was intoxicating when Jackson planted himself between me and everything bad in this world. He naturally protects. That is who he is. But somehow my heart translates that into he is protecting me because he cares about me. Which I’m pretty sure is the figment part of my imagination.
He slid my sandwich in front of me, along with raw cut veggies.
“You’re not eating?” I picked up the sandwich.
“Already ate.”
He leaned against the counter in his famous pose of crossed legs and arms folded across his chest. Relaxed yet closed off. Which was the epitome of Jackson. Easy going, yet unobtainable on so many levels.
His voice was calm. “What do you want to do?”
“About what?”
“You’re having my baby. We should talk.”