CHAPTER 14 JACKSON #2
“Is that a woman?” Penelope asks.
“Is that Delilah Stewart?” Adeline’s question is approximately sixteen octaves higher, shrieked at a volume that is earsplitting.
Delilah cuts a sharp look at me, waiting for instruction. I am frozen, immobile. Entirely unhelpful.
She rolls her eyes and straightens, clinging to her towel so hard her knuckles are white. Her wet hair paints rivers down her skin, tiny droplets of water tracing along her collarbones.
Delilah gives a wobbly smile. “I am both a woman and Delilah Stewart, yes. Um . . . hello.”
I flinch. Aiden’s stupid, smug face immediately fills the screen. “Something you want to share with the class, bud?”
A hand pushes his forehead out of the way and it’s Lucie, smiling like a maniac. “Hi, Delilah! Good to see you again.”
Delilah gives me a faintly pleading look. We have a brief conversation with our eyes.
What’s happening right now?
I don’t know.
What should we do?
I don’t know.
Are you going to say anything?
I don’t know.
Delilah huffs and moves closer so she’s fully in the screen. She stands behind my chair in her towel, smelling like my soap and warm skin. Fuck.
“There was something in the closet,” she explains. “At the other hotel.”
Lucie blinks. “Okay?”
“That’s why I’m here. In Jackson’s room. He’s letting me bunk with him.” Delilah gives me a good buddy pat on the shoulder. “So I don’t get killed by a raccoon and we can do our broadcasts.”
I nod in encouragement. “It’s a work thing,” I add. “A raccoon thing.”
There’s a flurry of activity on the other side of the phone as everyone jostles for position.
A whispered argument and words like move and let me see and Delilah Stewart float through the speaker.
Someone screeches, something heavy hits the ground, and someone that sounds like Aiden mutters a heartfelt fuck.
Adeline is the one who emerges victorious during the skirmish, securing the phone and flipping it around as she readjusts the angle.
She’s breathing heavily into the speaker, eyes wide. “I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start.” Maya lets out an excited squeal somewhere close by. “What are the sleeping arrangements like? I tried to zoom in on the background and it looks like you’re sharing a be—”
Heat climbs my cheeks. “I’m hanging up the phone now.”
“No,” she whines. “You can’t do this to us, Jackie. Why didn’t you say anything last night?”
The top of Penelope’s forehead appears. “Yeah. All you did was ask us boring questions.” She lowers her voice. “Did you do your homework? Have you taken your vitamins? Have you thought about life insurance and have you started saving in your 401(k)?”
Delilah snickers. “That’s actually a pretty good impression of you.”
I ignore her.
“You don’t have a 401(k). I’m hanging up now,” I repeat.
They scream in unison.
“What?” I sigh.
Penelope beams at me. “Love you.”
I roll my eyes. “Love you too.”
“What about me?” Adeline grumps.
“Yes, you as well.” I give her my full attention so she knows I mean it. My softhearted girl. A reluctant smile brightens her face.
“And me?” Aiden calls from somewhere in the background. “Do you love me, Jackson?”
“You are questionable.”
“You are also taken,” Lucie adds. Behind the girls, I see her slip her arms around Aiden’s waist. He presses a quick kiss to the side of her head. “Bye, Jackson. Bye, Delilah. Stay safe out there. We’ll be watching this afternoon.”
There’s a chorus of goodbyes and one last foreboding We’ll talk about this later from Adeline and then the screen goes dark. I flip it face down on the desk and pinch my nose.
“Well,” I say. “That went well.”
“I’m sensing some sarcasm, but I think it was fine. You weren’t the one in a towel.” Delilah returns to her suitcase and starts to root around inside. Like some sort of burrow-dwelling creature. “I like your sisters,” she says. “They seem like they’re having a good time with Aiden.”
Summoned by the chant of his name like an excessively demented version of Beetlejuice, my phone lights up next to my laptop with a text message from Aiden. You sly motherfucker.
What, I type back.
You said you didn’t like Delilah.
It’s a work situation, Aiden. And I never said I didn’t like her.
Me thinks you doth protest a whole hell of a lot.
I sigh and flip my phone over, my fingers itching with the urge to correct him. Explain. Justify my absolutely unhinged behavior. Because the truth is I could have found Delilah another hotel room. I just didn’t want to.
“Jackson,” Delilah says, still hovering over her damned suitcase, her wet hair hanging on either side of her face. I’m going to organize it for her. Just so I don’t have to endure her in a towel for longer than thirty seconds. So much skin. All of it, wet.
Delilah’s mouth twitches. “I asked you a question.”
“Could you repeat it?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She gives me a bemused look.
“Give me a bit to get all of this under control.” She gestures to her wet hair, then her towel-clad body.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek. “And then we can go meet Mark downstairs. I want to plan out our shots, then review the talking points for our broadcast.”
I blink at her. Hearing her talk about preparation and organization is almost worse than seeing her in a towel.
“What?” she asks.
I blow out a heavy breath. “I think I like you,” I say with a sigh. That’s what this off-balance feeling is, isn’t it? The way I can still feel her hand in mine. The way I want to feel it again. I scratch at my eyebrow. “I don’t really understand what’s going on with me.”
Delilah laughs. “You don’t have to sound so mad about it. I like you too, if that helps.”
My shoulders relax. “It does.”
The look on her face is tender. Understanding. “This wasn’t part of your plan, was it? Actually enjoying your time with me?”
I hesitate, then nod.
She bites her bottom lip. “You and your plans.”
She disappears into the bathroom, only to poke her head out again a second later.
“It was the thing about the talking points that did it for you, wasn’t it?”
I drag my hand over my mouth, watching her. Immediately, I think of her smiling on the other side of a dingy diner booth, a cherry red straw caught between her teeth.
“Among other things,” I admit.
“Such a weirdo,” she says again, but I see her face before she shuts the door to the bathroom.
She’s smiling.