Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Cozy Intervention
Marigold Belmore
I hit Jameson’s back with my fists.
“Put me down!” I whisper-yell, not wanting to draw more attention to myself.
My face is flaming at the thought that everyone in the newsroom is watching me. I refuse to lift my head to check.
“I warned you and you didn’t listen,” Jameson replies. His amused tone makes me hit him harder. Which is pointless, because the man is a wall of muscle.
He walks through the newsroom door and into the hall. I hear a laugh and my face burns hotter.
“This is embarrassing and ridiculous. Put. Me. Down,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
He pauses. “If I do, are you going to walk with me back to your dorm?”
“Yes.” I agree to get him to let me down. I can work from my desk in my room if I need to. Whatever it takes to stop this nonsense.
He sets me on my feet, and my vision swims. I grab his forearms and wait for it to feel like I’m on the ground and not the deck of a swaying ship.
“When the world stops spinning, I’m going to kill you.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think you’re capable of killing a butterfly right now, Goldie.”
I blink a few times, and once I feel more stable, I jerk away from him.
“You’d be surprised at the strength that immense anger provides.”
He shakes his head. “Do you ever run out of spite?”
I smile sweetly at him. “No, I buy mine in bulk.”
A laugh huffs out of him. He gestures to the front door of the building.
“Come on, you can murder me after you rest.”
“I don’t get why Paisley called you,” I grumble as I follow him out of the building and into the cool afternoon air. “I told her I was fine.”
“And because she’s a good friend, she didn’t believe you. Just like I don’t.”
“You consider yourself a good friend?” The words come out without thinking. He’s done so much for me recently, but the past still stings. Plus, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I’m a little more snappy than is probably warranted.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jameson gives me an unbothered smile.
“It’s all right, I know you haven’t slept enough. That’s what we’re going to remedy.”
I study him as we walk through the quad. The sun brightens his complexion, but there are unmistakable shadows beneath his eyes.
“When’s the last time you slept?” I question.
“I sleep,” he replies. “Just not well.”
I frown. “Haven’t you heard that you’re supposed to take care of yourself first? Like putting your oxygen mask on before you help the person next to you if a plane is going down.”
“I don’t think I’d follow that rule.”
“Jameson!” I scold. “You can’t be serious. Of course you would put yours on first.”
He glances at me, his mouth ticked up in one of his signature barely there smiles.
“Depends on who’s in the seat next to me.”
I shake my head to show my incredulity, but inside, my heart is being tugged toward him.
He’s always been the selfless type. That’s what made him taking the internship hurt so much.
It was so out of character it shocked me.
Then again, the kiss changed things. But if that’s true, why hasn’t he given up taking care of me?
“How about we make a deal?” he suggests. “You go home and eat and sleep, and I’ll do the same.”
“How will I know you’re holding up your end of the bargain?”
I don’t know why I’m considering this deal. Maybe it’s because deep down I know if Jameson and I were on a plane while it was crashing, he’d turn to check if I was okay before even thinking of himself. Or maybe it’s just because I’m getting too tired to fight.
“Nash will say if I did, and Paisley can say if you did,” he says.
“Paisley isn’t my roommate. Why would she know if I’ve slept?”
His smile turns wry. “Because she’s on her way to your place right now to take care of you.”
I run a hand over my face and sigh.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“No, you don’t want anyone to take care of you.”
“Semantics,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “You love semantics.”
I scrunch my nose up and don’t reply, because he’s right.
I do love diving into the meaning of words and how they relate to one another.
I could spend hours dissecting the combination of context and tone within one sentence in a book.
It’s one of those things that comes naturally to me.
Sometimes I wonder if it stems from how often I did it growing up.
My parents never said what they meant, so I had to learn to pick up on cues and piece the puzzle together.
“My mom texted me,” I blurt out as my building comes into view.
Jameson is quiet for a moment.
“Is that what upset you? Paisley said she found you crying.”
“I changed my mind.” I cross my arms. “I’m going to kill Paisley, then you.”
He laughs a little and bumps into my shoulder lightly.
“Come on, Goldie, she was only trying to help. She’s worried about you.”
I shake my head. Everyone is overreacting about how I’m doing, but if a few hours of rest helps ease their minds, then I can manage that. It’ll put me severely behind—again—but oh well.
“So, what did she say?” Jameson presses as we walk up to the lobby doors.
He holds open the door and I walk through.
“Told me ‘good job’ about the paper.”
“I’m guessing she did that in a way that made you feel worse, not better?”
I nod. We walk to the elevators and I press the up button. I don’t say anything more, since I don’t want to admit I told her about cutting him off.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know that’s hard on you.”
I shrug. “It is what it is. Some people have moms who celebrate them and support them. Others don’t.”
We step onto the elevator. Jameson’s expression is lined with concern.
“You’re allowed to be upset, Goldie. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.”
I look down at my oxfords. I do get upset; I just prefer to do so in private. To let everything out in the form of words in a manuscript.
“Thanks, but I really am okay. I’m used to it by now. I was just tired—that’s why it got to me more.”
“I won’t press you about it,” Jameson says softly. “But you know you can talk to me if you need to.”
I swallow down the emotions rising in my throat. He’s trying so hard to go back to the way things were, but we can’t. Not after the kiss. I don’t have the energy to fight him, though, so I just nod.
We’re quiet as the elevator stops on my floor, and stay that way as Jameson walks me to my door. He passes off my messenger bag to me, and it’s then that I realize he carried it all the way here.
“Thanks.” My voice is small.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll let your friends take it from here. Nash told me to tell Paisley her dream man says hi, but I don’t think I want to face the wrath of two feisty women today.”
I laugh. “Smart choice. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Jameson dips his chin. “Tomorrow.”
He turns and walks away. I can’t help but think of his text from earlier, the Anne of Green Gables quote. If only that could be true.
I unlock the door and head inside, then freeze just inside the doorway. All of my roommates, plus Paisley, are in the living room. It looks like they’ve turned the entire place into a blanket fort complete with twinkle lights. The curtains are closed, so the room is dark.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I slide off my shoes and drop my bag next to them.
“This is an intervention,” Jasmine says while crossing her arms.
“A cozy one!” Saylor adds with a smile.
“You’re going to come in here and eat pasta while we watch Emma, and then you’re going to sleep,” Paisley commands.
I blink back fresh tears. All of my friends came together to do this … for me?
I slowly make my way into the living room.
“Pajamas first,” Jasmine orders, pointing to my room.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a laugh.
Once I’m changed and seated on the pallet they made, Paisley drops a weighted blanket on my lap, then sets a take-out box on top. When I open it and see my favorite dish in there, my heart skips.
“Did Jameson tell you about this?” I ask.
Paisley shoots me a meaningful look.
“He placed the order and told me what else to get you.”
“Emma and the blanket fort were our idea, though!” Saylor chimes in.
I stare down at the food, my throat tight.
Jameson is making it far too difficult to stay mad at him. And I need to hold onto my anger—it’s the only thing protecting me from being really devastated when he breaks my heart again, but worse.