36. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jackson
W hen I turn to Lisette, her face is scarlet. A quiet laugh erupts from me and the blush creeps onto her neck.
“I will make an orphan of your daughter if you’re laughing at me right now, Jackson Jones,” she bites out and I quickly shut up before she turns to me, a fierce look in her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”
A smile creeps onto my face. “I thought you didn’t care what she thought about you?”
“I never said I didn’t care if she heard me moaning with your tongue down my throat like a whore,” she whisper-shouts, hitting my bicep.
My smile disappears at her words. “Don’t call yourself that,” I tell her sternly. “She caught us kissing, not having an orgy, and if she had, you’re still not a whore. Do not let me hear you say that again.”
She rolls her eyes at me, cheeks still blushed. “ Do not let me hear you say that again, ” she mocks. “You’re such a dad.”
She glances over my shoulder, shaking her head at herself.
With a smile, I rest a light hand on her waist before leaning over to kiss the mortified look off her face. “It’s fine,” I reassure her. “She’s not going to bring it up. She just likes bugging me. She doesn’t think any less of you, sweetheart.”
“Stop touching me.” She shoves my arm away, completely ignoring my words. “And no more kisses. And do not call me sweetheart in front of her.”
A smirk grows on my face because earlier I had to drop the pet name altogether, but now I just can’t use it in front of my mother. A win is a win.
I cup her face in both hands and kiss her all over her face. She laughs as she tries to push me away, but I keep her in my grasp as I plant a handful of rapid kisses on her lips.
“Feel better?”
“ No ,” she whispers again, burying her flushed face in my chest.
With a low laugh, I cradle her head with one hand and wrap the other around her waist while she keeps her hands draped at her side. “You’re just as dramatic as Belle.”
I kiss the top of her head and she looks up at me with a glare.
“You’re so beautiful.” My voice deepens to a low whisper. I tuck a long hair behind her ear, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Her cheeks blush again and I never thought I’d see the day where nonchalant, carefree Lisette is flustered .
“Like what?”
“Like you like me,” she says in something close to disgust.
“That’s crazy. It’s almost like I already told you I love—”
“Shh.” She swiftly cuts me off while taking a step back and the disappointment seeps into me. I choose not to push her and take a step back to stop myself from kissing her again.
“I’ll meet you in there in a minute,” she mumbles and I nod in return as I slip back into the dining room, forcing a smile. “We should eat now,” I announce and my parents look up from their thankful turkeys to agree.
I head into the kitchen and when I hear light footsteps behind me, I know it’s my mom before she steps beside me to help serve the plates. “So,” she starts and I fight not to let out a sigh. I don’t bother asking why she didn’t use the bathroom she caught us in, knowing she went looking for us.
“She’s beautiful,” she comments and I know she isn’t talking about her granddaughter.
“Yeah, she is.” I keep my eyes on the pot of rice and gandules as I serve Belle’s plate.
“How long have you two been seeing each other?” She keeps her tone neutral.
“We’re not really together, Mom,” I tell her once again, honestly not knowing where I stand with Lisette.
She sets her plate down as she turns to me and leans against the counter. “So you’re just sneaking off to bathrooms with her?” She bites back a smile.
“Actually, yes.” I find myself confessing. “It’s complicated right now. Her life is complicated.”
I see the playfulness leave my mom’s face as she realizes I’m not just saying we’re not together to cover up the fact that we’re together.
“Yeah, it seems complicated,” she whispers now. “There are a lot of scars on her leg.”
I feel my face fall as I turn to her. “Do not do that,” I warn her.
She puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m not judging.”
“That look on your face says otherwise,” I whisper more harshly. “Do not look at her like that. You have no right to judge her.”
“I’m not judging,” she voices again. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. She’s beautiful.” She shrugs and I roll my eyes as I see where this is going.
“You disapprove.” I shake my head at her as I turn back to the food, stabbing at the pernil and plopping some onto Belle’s plate.
She shrugs again. “Why are you introducing her to the baby if it’s so complicated? You never bring women around her.”
I hold back a sigh as I take note of how she didn’t answer me. “I technically didn’t introduce her to Isabelle. She met her years ago through Sire, she’s his sister.”
My mom nods as she puts something together in her head. “So she was Belle’s tutor first… yet you still got involved?”
I don’t answer her.
“I’m just confused because you don’t get involved with people in her life. Not even that amazing ballet teacher of hers, who I honestly think you need to marry.”
My eyes narrow as I remember my daughter also telling me that. “Did you put that idea in Belle’s head?”
From the guilty look on her face, I know she did.
“Mom, stop talking about things like that around her. You put Mia in her head as a potential mother figure and she doesn’t need to think about that, not with her teachers .” I keep my voice more hushed now.
A somber look crosses her eyes, and I look back at the plate of food.
“I’m sorry, and I’m sorry I brought up the name thing earlier. I really didn’t know where you got her name from.”
“It’s fine,” I brush her off.
“I’m guessing Skye picked out her name?” she whispers so low I can just barely hear her voice.
I wait for that feeling in my chest to hit after hearing her name, like it’s caving in on me but it never comes. Glancing over my shoulder, Belle is too distracted showing my dad how to take a Polaroid to hear us.
“Yeah… she did.”
A small smile grows on my mom’s face. “Has she asked about her again?”
I nod in return. “Just once.”
She has a look on her face that tells me she has a hundred questions. “What did you tell her?”
I let out a tired breath as I run a hand down my face. “I didn’t.” I shrug. “She said she doesn’t have a mom. Lisette was there and told her she has a tummy mommy like everyone else does, but that she didn’t need a second one.”
When I see my mom’s face change before me, I wish I didn’t say that because I know I just opened a whole other can of worms.
“Was that her way of telling you she doesn’t want to be a stepmother to my granddaughter? Because Isa was just writing Mommy on her feather , so what does she plan on doing here?” She sounds so damn defensive and I quickly give her a look to calm down.
“That’s not what she meant,” I reassure her.
“Well.” My mom thankfully moves on. “I know you’re against it, but I think you should tell Belle about Skye.”
“No.”
“Jackson—”
“No, Mom. No .” I feel myself getting upset and quickly rein it in. Taking a calming breath, I try again. “She’s five. ”
“She’s old enough if she’s asking about her, Jackson. She deserves to at least see a picture of her mom and I think you should reach out to Skye.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I snap, setting the plate down.
“She’s her daughter.”
“She’s my daughter.” I look between her eyes, my anger growing. “There is no reaching out to her. She lost that right when she left.”
A sympathetic look crosses her face but when she reaches to touch me, I take a step back.
“Jackson, everyone makes mistakes. You need to—”
“I don’t need to do anything.” I force myself to keep my voice low.
“She deserves to see her kid,” she says, her tone picking up strength.
“She doesn’t deserve shit.”
Her entire face morphs as if I just hit her. “Do not curse at me, Jackson Jones.”
“We’re not telling Belle anything until I want to, and we’re not reaching out to Skye. If you go against my wishes, you won’t be seeing her anymore.”
“ Excuse me ?” she nearly shouts. “You’re going to keep my grandbaby from me?” My mom keeps her fierce eyes on me and beside her, my dad steps in.
“What’s happening?”
“She’s my baby,” I ignore him, keeping my gaze on my mom. “And that’s final. Respect my boundaries.”
“Respect your mother,” my dad counters.
I open my mouth to reply, but he puts a hand up, quickly shutting me up like he used to do when I was a kid, and like muscle memory, I don’t say a word.
My mom stares at me for two beats before walking into the dining room and kissing the top of Isabelle’s head. “Happy Thanksgiving, beba. You be good for Daddy, okay?”
“Mom,” I let out a defeated breath as I walk over to them.
“Are you leaving before dinner?” Belle looks up at her as she walks over to grab her bag.
“Mom, don’t be like that.”
She ignores me as she walks for the door.
“Honey, wait up.” My dad tries to catch up to her fast pace.
“Ma, just—” I don’t get to finish my sentence as the front door shuts.