12. Jinx
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jinx
The past two weeks have been a whirlwind, and it’s not just because I’m clandestinely involved with three different men, like someone straight out of a steamy romance novel. No, there’s a deeper, more profound shift happening within me—both physically and emotionally.
Each morning, I wake up with a tight, uncomfortable knot twisting in my stomach, and it’s not just the typical jitters. I’ve become adept at masking it, though.
I brush my teeth twice before breakfast, trying to erase the bitter, lingering taste of nausea. My day is punctuated by the rhythmic chewing of mint gum, and I keep ginger candies stashed in every pocket for quick relief.
The intimacy, though?
It’s nothing short of extraordinary.
Utterly addictive, even.
But I can’t deceive myself; it’s evolved into something much deeper. I find myself observing the guys as they go about their day-to-day activities.
I laugh genuinely at Thomas’s painfully bad jokes, listen intently as Rowan passionately describes his vision of opening a sports camp for kids, and watch Bruno sit quietly at the kitchen counter, his face illuminated by his phone as he grins at a sweet text from his grandmother.
I’ve developed real feelings for them. Intense feelings. And that realization is utterly terrifying.
I’ve never excelled at emotional commitments. Always the free spirit, I’ve been someone who drifts with the wind’s whims. Yet here I am, ensnared in something far more complex than I ever anticipated. And now, there’s a small, significant secret growing within me.
I gently lay a hand on my still-flat stomach and let out a long breath.
I have no idea how I’m going to navigate this.
It’s a rare slow morning, so we’re all cleaning up the house together. The sun streams through the windows, casting warm patches of light on the hardwood floors.
Rowan grabs a broom, but instead of sweeping, he grips it like a hockey stick, taking aim at a dust ball and whacking it across the room like a puck. Thomas, with a mischievous glitter in his eyes, seizes the opportunity and launches himself at Rowan, tackling him onto the couch.
Laughter erupts as they tumble onto the floor, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and playful shouts echoing throughout the room.
I shake my head, a chuckle escaping my lips, but my focus drifts away from their antics. My gaze shifts to Bruno, who steps out of the room with his phone pressed tightly to his ear.
He’s usually not one for long phone calls, so whoever’s on the other end must be significant.
Thomas and Rowan continue their mock wrestling, hurling playful insults at each other, but their voices fade into the background. My attention is stolen by Bruno’s changing expression—his lips flatten into a tight line, and his dark brows knit together in a serious frown.
My stomach twists with unease. When he finally reenters the room, he rubs the back of his neck, then lightly taps Rowan on the back of the head to break up their scuffle.
“My grandma called,” he announces, his voice carrying a hint of something I can’t quite place.
“Oh yeah?” I reply, tilting my head in curiosity.
“She reminded me I have dinner with her tonight.”
My mind drifts back to our previous conversation about her, and how important she is for Bruno—how important family is for him…
Later in the day, I’m in my room, surrounded by a mountain of laundry, folding each piece with care while the guys are at practice.
The atmosphere is tranquil, with the mellow strum of an acoustic guitar drifting through my playlist, and the room is infused with the soothing, floral scent of my lavender detergent.
I’m halfway through folding one of Rowan’s oversized hoodies, the fabric wrinkled and well-worn, when I hear the front door creak open and shut with a thud.
Footsteps, steady and familiar, echo down the hallway, and a moment later, Bruno appears, leaning casually against my doorframe, his eyes warm and intent as he watches me.
“Hey, you’re home early,” I remark, setting the hoodie aside on the growing pile of neatly folded clothes.
He offers a nonchalant shrug, his shoulders rising and falling with ease. “Coach ended practice early. Gave the team a breather after the last game.”
His voice carries a hint of relief, the kind that comes after a hard-fought match.
With a few long strides, he crosses the room, his presence filling the space, and presses a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. I melt into it, feeling the gentle pressure and savoring the comforting warmth that spreads through me.
His lips have the familiar taste of coffee, with an undercurrent of something uniquely his—a taste I’ve come to crave. When he finally pulls away, I feel the urge to lean back in, unwilling to break the connection.
Instead, he gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my skin lightly. “So… about my grandma,” he begins, his voice quieter now, tinged with a hint of nervousness.
I stiffen slightly, a reflex more than a reaction. He notices, his eyes flickering with understanding, but he doesn’t mention it.
“She wants to meet you. How about you tag along with me?” His words hang in the air, carrying both expectation and hope.
I let out a breathless laugh, trying to mask the flutter of nerves. “Bruno, I—” I start, but he cuts me off gently.
“She already knows you’re living with us,” he adds quickly, a small, almost shy smile playing at the edges of his lips. “She’s curious about you. Thought maybe you’d wanna come.”
I hesitate, not out of reluctance but because I sense the significance this holds for him. This invitation is more than just dinner; it’s a step deeper into his world.
But despite the swirl of emotions, I find myself nodding, the decision settling easily in my chest.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice steady and sure. “I’d like that.”
One thing at a time. “Just a warning,” I tease, folding the last of the fresh-smelling laundry into a neat stack, “I might not be able to eat much tonight. Still haven’t been feeling great.”
Bruno frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “You should really get checked out,” he says, his voice carrying a gentle insistence.
I halt, my fingers pausing mid-fold for just a second as my heart skips a beat. He doesn’t know , I remind myself, trying to calm the sudden rush of anxiety. He just thinks it’s a stubborn stomach bug.
“I will,” I say quickly, plastering a smile on my face as I force my hands to resume their task. “I’ve just been busy.”
Bruno crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps stretching the fabric of his T-shirt, and gives me that skeptical, broody look that always makes me squirm.
“Jinx,” he says, his tone a mix of teasing and concern
I huff, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine, I’ll make an appointment. Happy?” I retort, hoping to deflect his worry.
He wants to smile but holds it back, the lines of his lips cracking into a muted laugh, the seriousness not quite lifting from his eyes. “Good,” he replies, a hint of relief dulling his tone.
For now, I push the thoughts aside and focus on preparing for dinner with his grandmother, letting the comforting routine of the evening distract me from the uncertainties ahead.
I spend the next couple of hours preparing, aware that tonight I’ll be under intense scrutiny.
Bruno’s grandmother, the sole surviving member of his family, holds an important place in his heart. He insists she’s sweet, but I know how crucial a good first impression can be.
I slip into a comfortable white sweater dress that hugs my curves in just the right places without being too tight. It stops just above my knees, perfectly balancing elegance and my personal style.
I pair it with black suede knee-high boots that complement the dress and sheer pantyhose.
For jewelry, I opt for simplicity: silver accents adorned with real opals, my birthstone, that catch the light subtly. My nails, painted a rich dark wine red, match the newly dyed deep burgundy of my hair; one of my more subdued shades.
Descending the stairs, I spot Bruno in the living room, fiddling with the clasp of his watch. When he finally glances up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly, unable to conceal his admiration.
“Wow,” he exhales, rising to his feet, his dark eyes tracing every detail of my outfit.
I smile nervously, giving a playful spin to showcase the ensemble. “Think I’ll pass Grandma’s inspection?”
His tongue flicks out to dampen his lips, and I can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers appreciatively on my legs. “She might just love you more than me.”
From the couch, Thomas releases a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn. Now I’m a little jealous.”
Rowan, with a protective stance and arms crossed, adds, “You’d better treat our girl right tonight, Bru.”
Bruno grins, his arm snaking around my waist as he gently pulls me toward the door. “Don’t worry, boys. She’s in good hands.”
We drive through the city, the lights fading away behind us as we roll through grassy plains and rugged forests. Bruno drums his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, stealing a glance in my direction.
“You’re nervous,” he observes, breaking the silence.
“Of course I’m nervous,” I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. “I’ve never met a guy’s family before.”
His eyebrows arch in surprise. “Never?”
I shake my head, feeling the weight of my admission. “Never gotten this serious with anyone before.”
The words linger in the air between us, heavier than I anticipated. I rub my palms over my dress, trying to dispel the anxious energy.
“It’s weird, I guess. I don’t really know how to do this.”
Bruno’s hand shifts to rest on my thigh, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “You’re gonna do great.”
I turn to him, drawn in by the warmth radiating from his deep brown eyes. It’s a comfort that seeps into my bones, unraveling the knot of nerves in my stomach, if only slightly.
We turn into a narrow driveway, the tires crunching on the gravel, leading up to a quaint, old-fashioned house. The porch light casts a welcoming glow against the dusky sky, reminiscent of my Grandma Lily’s home, the sole sanctuary of safety in my family.
Bruno catches the change in my expression. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, drawing in a deep breath to steady myself. “Yeah.” Then, a grin breaks across my face as I add, “Let’s do this.”