35. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lisette
J ackson is smiling like an idiot, but I’m not delusional enough to convince myself it’s my presence and not his parents that has him smiling like his entire day was made.
I do not want to be here. I didn’t even want to sleep here, but Sire is a fucking headache, so here I am, playing house with his best friend. I should sleep with Jackson just to piss him off.
I get that he’s worried. I get it, but his lack of faith in me hurts more than I’ll ever admit. I’m fine.
Another thing I don’t want to admit is that I’ve been great the two nights I’ve slept here. Not a single urge to run off and throw my life away for a small white pill.
It’s temporary , my cruel mind reminds me.
You always get an amazing week before it all comes crashing down. It’s like clockwork. Inevitable.
Images of Jackson’s arms around me holding his kid push my dark thoughts away. He looked so happy holding us. I felt so happy letting him hold us, but there the thoughts went again, snatching away the hope he gave me.
My head keeps telling me this will never work but every smile he puts on my face makes me think otherwise. Like maybe he’s right.
He’s not. You’ll tarnish them.
As I make it to the last step, my eyes land on his parents as Isabelle opens the door for them. My eyes land on the rings on both of their hands and I’m only reminded how different our lives are.
His parents are still married.
Me and my bio sisters have different sperm donors.
His parents are present.
Mine were absent addicts whom I haven’t spoken to since I was a teenager.
They seem happy.
I wanted to die at the ripe age of ten, just a few years before I started using drugs to cope.
“And who is this lovely peach?” Jackson’s mom’s eyes light up as she looks over at me.
I force a smile and suddenly grow uncomfortable with both of his parents watching me, eyes wide in surprise and suspicion.
“This is Lissy.” Isabelle beams. “I’m going to negotiate with Daddy that they get married.”
Her grandma’s face mirrors my shock. She hasn’t brought that up since she caught us kiss, but hearing her words still shakes me to the core.
Jackson’s mom looks behind me, and when I hear a set of footsteps, I know it’s her son she’s watching.
“What is this I’m hearing about getting married?” She raises her brows at Jackson. She looks over at me now, but she’s still struggling to shake the shock from her face. When her eyes scan down to the scars on my leg, her eyes widen before she looks up at me again.
Now I really don’t want to be here.
Jackson steps beside me, and since I’m still stuck in place at the end of his steps, he lightly pushes the small of my back, forcing me to walk with him. “Princess, we’re not negotiating that. Lissy is very smelly and I don’t like weddings,” Jackson teases lightly and his daughter laughs at his jab at me.
“But weddings are so pretty.” She begins to rant about one of the Disney princesses’ wedding as her dad introduces me to his parents.
“This is Lisette,” he says as he leans over to kiss his mom’s cheek while whispering in her ear. “Ignore your granddaughter.”
He forces a smile as he pulls away. “Lisette has been tutoring Belle and her plans fell through. She’s joining us for dinner.”
“And why does your kid think you’re marrying her?” Jackson’s mom says with something in her eyes I can’t quite decipher.
“Stop it,” Jackson mumbles. “She’s a friend . The friend I told you was joining us.”
She raises her brows like she’s unamused. Jackson hugs his dad next as his mom turns to me.
“Well, I’m Ivy. It’s nice to meet you, Lisette.” She leans in, and I wasn’t expecting a hug but find myself reciprocating it anyway.
“Hello,” Jackson’s dad starts, wrapping an arm around his wife while extending his hand to me. “I’m Jones. It’s nice meeting you, Lissy.”
I shake his hand before turning to Jackson, but he beats me to it. “Yes, I was named after him. My mom’s dad is Jackson. It’s really corny if you ask me, but just smile.” He forces a smile before his mom playfully shoves him away.
“We gave your name a lot of thought.”
“Did you though?” He teases her. “You just took it from the two important men in your life.”
His dad laughs at him and I feel my chest tighten as I watch their smiles like a happy family.
“Oh, and you’re just so creative, huh?” Ivy teases her son right back. “Where did you get Isabelle’s name from?”
Jackson’s smile slowly fades and his mom’s eyes cut to Belle before she realizes an obvious mistake she made that I’m missing. I focus on Jackson again, but he simply forces a smile as he looks down at his daughter.
“Let’s take a picture with Abuela.”
Isabelle smiles up at them as she takes her dad’s phone. Refusing to get in a picture with Jackson’s parents, I quickly escape to the bathroom.
For safety measures, I hide out for a solid five minutes, which is a bad idea because with every minute that passes is another bad thought that enters my mind.
When I hear laughs filling the house, I assume the coast is clear, but can’t bring myself to go back out. I feel so out of place here.
The first night was okay. The first morning was better. Jackson is off from work and it felt so easy spending the entire day with him as his daughter was at school. Last night was great as we watched princess movies. Today we were too busy cooking for me to even take a second to think. I was genuinely immersed in the kitchen as Jackson showed me how to make his favorite Puerto Rican dishes.
But now… now I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb in my cheap dress. I’m almost positive his mom was in cashmere and the money isn’t the issue, I knew they had money, but it just adds to the fact that I don’t belong here.
I jump out of my thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door. “Lissy?”
I let out a breath at the sound of Jackson’s voice. “Yeah?”
He’s quiet before saying, “You okay?”
“Peachy.” I sink onto the toilet seat again, my shoulders slouching. I just want to crawl into bed. I hate all of those statistics for being right about depression rates spiking during the holidays, because my energy is suddenly drained, and I don’t have it in me to smile for these people.
The door knob rattles, but since it’s locked, he isn’t granted access.
“Can you open the door for me?” His voice is soft and I shake my head at myself as I rise to unlock the door.
A beat later, he enters. Closing the door behind him, he leans against it and focuses on me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Drop the pet name, Jackson.” My voice is so numb and the fear of an endless week of dark thoughts fill the pit of my stomach.
I needed more time. I needed a few more days of peace before the weight in my chest returned.
Pushing off the door, he closes the distance between us and gently tucks a hair behind my ear. “What’s the matter? You were just fine. What happened?”
I shake my head, growing annoyed with myself because he’s right, I was just fine. “Mood swings accompany depression.” I smile up at him bitterly. “It’s really the best of both worlds.”
He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile and I don’t appreciate the silence.
“Tell me what you need.”
I shake my head at him, but as I drop my head, his fingers find my chin as he lifts my gaze back to him.
He watches me with certainty and stability as he says, “Tell me what you need so I can help, Lisette. Don’t seclude yourself with your thoughts, it’s not going to make you feel better.”
No, it’s not, but I like torturing myself and sulking in the pain.
“I want to go home,” I whisper.
He watches me for a beat. “And do what?”
Get high.
I don’t answer him and he simply nods like he just read my mind. “This is probably very inappropriate, but will a kiss make you feel better?”
A smirk grows on my face and a part of me hates how quickly he can alter my mood. “Taking advantage of me while I’m unstable and vulnerable? In the headspace I’m in? Shame on you, Jackson like your grandpa, Jones like your dad.”
A laugh escapes him, and when his hand falls from my face, I try to hide my disappointment.
“You’re right.” He turns more serious. “That was inappropriate.”
I quickly shake my head. “I was kidding. I’m not unstable.”
“No?” He teases.
“Nope. Not vulnerable at all either.” I rise to my feet and he doesn’t move, keeping us inches apart.
A smile touches his lips as he tucks another strand behind my ear before cupping my face. “How about this,” he starts, voice low. “You promise to stay for the entire night and keep the inappropriate comments to a minimum, for my parents’ sake, and anytime you feel whatever you felt in here before I walked in, we can sneak away for one kiss.”
I should not be this excited at the possibility of the waves of my sadness hitting, but I suddenly want them tenfold if it means getting a feel-better kiss.
“That sounds fair.” I nod, realizing I would have agreed to anything he said if the ending of the deal was the same.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I agree and he leans in, planting a soft, tender kiss to my lips.
As his lips press against mine, it’s nothing like the hungry, rushed, wet kiss after the pool show. This one is slow and safe .
Before either of us can take this to the danger zone, he pulls away. “Better?”
I nod twice, not trusting my voice to come out strong enough.
“Good.” Without another word, he takes my hand, guiding me to the dining room. “Found her,” Jackson announces and Isabelle turns to us with a smile.
“Finally. Now we can start.” She turns back to the table, and across from her are Jackson’s parents, who, I don’t fail to notice, look down at our clasped hands before sharing a look.
I feel my face heat in embarrassment and I’m not sure why, but I suddenly care a great deal what they think about me. My eyes land on the table, and in front of each of them are cookies along with piping bags of frosting.
“Turkey cookie decorating contest,” Jackson explains. “Isabelle takes holiday games seriously, so for all of our sakes, please color the damn cookie and stick to the color palette. Do not mix them to make more colors, that’s cheating and will result in a very early bedtime for her because we’re not doing tantrums today.”
I stifle a laugh at how tired he sounds and I’m intrigued to see what else she planned for today.
Remember when I said I was intrigued? Un trigue me. I’m not interested in another turkey-themed activity.
Being that Isabelle is the only child in the house, we’re all stuck entertaining her. Pinning the feather on the turkey, making turkey paper headbands, turkey bowling with turkey- looking cups that we made, and a pumpkin for a ball. We’re not even eating turkey today because she refuses to allow her dad to cook the poor thing .
I love the kid, but she’s driving me mad.
“Why don’t you have any thankful feathers on your turkey?” Isabelle glances at my bald bird that’s supposed to have a feather for everything I’m thankful for, but mine is empty because I’m drawing a blank. I don’t have anything I’m thankful for.
I know that sounds ungrateful, but I don’t have anything in my life going on.
Her grandparent’s turkeys are too far across the table for me to read, but they’re full.
Isabelle’s thankful turkey reads: Daddy, abuela, grandpa, KC, new house, new school! ballet, baking, my balising scils.
I feel my brows furrow at her last feather and lean closer. “What’s this one?” I point at it. I helped her with the spelling, but don’t recognize the last feather.
“My balancing skills. They’re really important in gymnastics.”
I smile at her as I take a new feather. “Let’s try spelling that one again.” I hand her a pencil instead of a marker so she can make mistakes. “Sound it out.”
She does and I correct her.
“Ba lanc ing. Not ba lis ing. Do you hear the difference? Ba-la- ah .”
“There’s an A in there?” Her face scrunches as if I’m the one who’s wrong.
“Mhm.” I sound it out for her again, and after another try and some help, she spells it right. “So smart. You should add your brain to your thankful turkey.” I kiss her head before helping her spell skills. “Perfect.”
She smiles as she takes a new feather and writes Mommy.
She steals a glance at me, biting back a smile as she glues her thankful feather to her turkey. “We’re going to negotiate the wedding,” she whispers. “Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re too smelly for Dad.”
I break into a laugh, and instead of bringing her hopes down, I take a feather and do the same, writing, My baby Belle with a heart.
Her brows furrow and I bite back a smile.
“That’s not how you spell big girl,” she remarks and I break into another laugh.
Her grandma distracts her as she asks about her upcoming ballet classes. They have their conversation in Spanish and it surprises me how fluent Belle is.
My smile fades as I turn back to my one-haired turkey. Stealing a glance at Jackson, his says: My daughter, my parents, our new home, my health, my job, my sanity.
I stifle a laugh at his last one, knowing these turkey activities are driving him crazy too. It’s cute, but it’s getting to the point where we need to stop.
Jackson steals a glance at me, and as he takes another feather and bites back a smile, he looks just like his daughter. Or rather she looks like him.
He finishes writing and I look over at his thankful feather.
Lisette’s kisses.
I bite my cheek not to smile as he takes the glue and sticks the feather downside up so no one at the table can see what he wrote.
He grabs another feather, writing, Lisette shirtless .
I bite back a laugh as he glues that one downside up again.
The next feather says, Lisette’s smile, and I break. My smile beams as he glues that thankful feather right side up.
“So cheesy,” I mumble with an eye roll, but who am I kidding? Suddenly, I love cheesy.
“Add something to yours before you awaken The Holiday Monster,” Jackson whispers as he nods to his daughter, his eyes slightly widened.
I force a laugh, but as I try to think of something I’m thankful for, a weight settles in my chest as I’m reminded I’m not thankful for anything I come up with. Not truly at least because deep down, I don’t want to be here, fighting for happiness each day, forcing a smile.
A hand squeezes mine and I see Jackson watching me in my peripheral, but I keep my eyes on my one-haired turkey.
“Come help me get more paper,” Jackson says loud enough for the table to hear as he pulls me to my feet.
As soon as we turn the corner, he pulls me into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“That look in your eyes is killing me, Lisette.” He sounds like he’s in pain, and I shake my head in response.
“This is what I meant, Jackson. My problems tarnishing you and your day. This is what you are signing up for.”
He shakes his head at me and almost looks tired of my words. “Do you want your feel-better kiss or not?” He brushes me off.
Not being stubborn enough to say no, I climb on my tippy toes, planting my hand on his chest to steady myself.
He closes the rest of the distance, bringing his lips to mine, his hands on my waist. This kiss is harder, like he’s punishing me for my words as he takes my bottom lip between his teeth.
A moan escapes me and he squeezes my waist in warning.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he hushes against my lips before his mouth covers mine again, gentle this time. My tongue runs along his bottom lip and he’s quick to open his mouth for me, capturing my tongue with his.
Pressing me against the door harder, one hand travels to my ass, riding my dress up as he squeezes. It’s a battle to keep quiet but I do as I lift a leg to wrap around him, forcing him closer. When I feel the bulge in his pants, I shamelessly grind against him, one hand traveling up the front of his shirt while the other tugs at his hair.
Suddenly, the door behind me is pushed open, but with my weight against it, it closes. “Oh.”
I quickly pull away, dropping my leg from around him at the sound of his mother’s voice. Jackson buries his face in my neck.
“Sorry.”
“One second.”
We both say at the same time and I shut my eyes in defeat, silently cursing myself.
“Jackson?” his mom questions.
“Yeah, one second, Mom.”
I look over at him and his eyes are on the door. A few seconds pass before his shoulders sag. “She’s not leaving.”
My brows furrow. “I’m not going out there,” I whisper.
“I’m telling you,” he starts again. “She’s not leaving.” He lets out a sigh as he slowly moves his hand from under my dress and politely fixes it.
When he opens the door, I step behind him, my face on fire.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he tells his mom in a hushed voice as we step out of the bathroom. I keep my eyes low and try my best to hide behind him as he steps around his mother.
“Like you lied?” his mom counters.
“I didn’t. We are friends, we just—” he cuts himself off and it sounds like his mom is waiting for him to finish, but he doesn’t. Instead, a sigh takes the stead of his words.
“I hope you’re not this friendly with all of your friends.” She sounds like she wants to laugh and I never wanted to die more than I do right now. She totally heard me.
“Are we really going to do the whole Embarrass Jackson Thing right now? Really?”
There’s a beat of silence before she says, “Lissy, dear, are you spending the night?”
“ Mom,” he warns and he too sounds embarrassed. “What does that have to do with anything or concern you?”
“I’m not spending the night,” I tell Jackson’s back since I still can’t bring myself to step around him. Either way, neither of them seem to be listening.
“Don’t be rude, Jackson. I’m only asking so I know if I need to pack her some food.”
“She’s eating here and I told you that. You asked because you’re a noisy, meddling mother and—stop doing that.” He takes a step away from her. He bumps into me, but quickly brings his hand behind himself and catches me.
“You had some lipstick on your face.”
Please, God, let me die now. I’ll get on my knees and beg.
“She’s not even wearing lipstick. Deja el relajo, por favor . ” His perfect Spanish pulls a smirk onto my lips. I knew he was half Puerto Rican, and with his mom’s thick accent it’s clear he speaks Spanish with her often, but I haven’t heard him speak their native language and his accent is hot.
“You were right, happy? I lied. She’s not my friend. Enough .”
I hear her finally walking off with a laugh and I silently pray to God to take me out.