Chapter 24
JACQUELINE
Ibasked in the early autumn sunlight, still in bed but alone now, with only the faint imprint of Jesse’s presence still lingering.
It was closing in on late morning, practically noon, which meant that I’d slept later than I ever had in my adult life, but hooking up with someone new for the first time since my college days had been amazing—better than I’d thought and much easier than I had anticipated.
Jesse is to thank for that, I thought. There had been no awkwardness or clinical dissection of whether or not I should be doing it. It’d just happened. Naturally. I stared up at the ceiling with a slow, disbelieving smile spreading on my lips. God. Jesse.
Although I’d given him grief earlier for having this exact same thought, I also couldn’t really believe how good it had been to hook up with a friend. In my case, however, I knew that it wasn’t so good with just any friend.
Thomas had been one too, after all, but Jesse being exactly who and what he was had made the experience something to remember. I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned softly into it, willing my heart, body, and mind to calm down about him.
It was time to get up and get on with it. If I stayed in bed much longer, I was going to start replaying things in dangerous detail, and I had exactly zero interest in getting caught up right now.
I am an adult, not a teenager. I do not lie around in bed all day, thinking about a man. Up. Up. Up. Come on.
It still took a few beats before I managed to force my lazy ass out of bed, but I pulled on an oversized sleep shirt and a pair of pajama pants, then shuffled to the kitchen, trying not to pay too much attention to the delicious aches that spread through me with every movement.
Halfway through making another cup of coffee, since the one Jesse and I had made at the crack of dawn had long since gone cold, the buzzer rang and I sighed. The only thing that convinced me to answer it was the fact that it might be him.
I had no idea where he’d gone or when, but I also hadn’t checked my phone yet to see if he’d left a message. At least there hadn’t been a fucking note.
Honestly, it had been a bit of a relief to wake up alone after my nap. I’d needed some time to collect myself, and while I wondered where he’d gone off to, I was rather confident he wouldn’t disappear again.
Another flutter started up in my belly just thinking about how attentive he’d been, how verbal, and into it. Yeah, he’s not going to be gone long.
When the buzzer rang again, it gave me a bit of a start and I finally went over to hit the button. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for Jacqueline?”
I frowned. “I haven’t ordered anything.”
There was only a brief pause. “No, ma’am. This is from someone called Jesse. It’s already paid for.”
Both of my eyebrows shot up, but I buzzed him in, my curiosity officially piqued. When I opened the door a minute later, I was handed a bag that smelled like heaven, fresh coffee and something buttery and sweet.
“Thank you,” I murmured to the delivery guy. “Sorry about the confusion.”
“No problem, ma’am.” He tipped his cap at me and then he was gone.
I shut the door and carried the brown paper bag to my kitchen counter, setting it down and eagerly peeking inside.
Coffee, a selection of pastries, and a cup of fruit salad stared back at me.
Written on a note tucked neatly on top of it all was a message from him, but not in that same elegant script as before.
Assuming that he’d instructed the cafe to write the note, I smiled when I read it, a welcome change.
Jacque,
Eat. Hydrate. Enjoy.
—J
I laughed and shook my head, finally ambling back to my room to fetch my phone, and shot off a quick text.
Me: Where did you go?
The reply came almost immediately.
Jesse: I had some quick business to take care of. Try not to miss me too much.
Jesse: I’ll be back later. I owe you a day.
He owed me a day? What does that even mean?
Still, a warmth settled in my chest at the knowledge that he truly intended on returning. He hadn’t hit it and quit it, or whatever that saying was.
“He really is dangerous, isn’t he?” I murmured to myself before taking a sip of coffee. “Charming, gorgeous, funny, and great in bed. The most lethal of all combinations.”
Lethal or not, however, he was proving to be surprisingly thoughtful too.
I set my phone down and drank the coffee while eating a pastry.
After, I forced myself into the shower, taking a little more care than usual to shave properly.
Once that was done, I dressed and convinced myself I could be productive while I waited for him to come back.
I even opened my laptop, stared at a document, and typed half a sentence before my concentration started drifting. The fact of it was that I’d ended up having a fantastic night despite Thomas’s surprise appearance.
Obviously, I hadn’t forgotten about that little tidbit. Nor had I forgotten the question he’d asked me, but I was choosing to ignore it for now. Jesse had thoroughly distracted me—and then some.
When my phone rang, I grabbed for it, assuming it’d be him, but instead, my mom’s face smiled up at me from the screen. I answered immediately, tucking the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I pushed the laptop away.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. “How are you?”
“Hi, darling,” she greeted happily. “I’m well. Just glad to hear your voice. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a complete lie. “I’ve just been busy.”
“I’m hoping that means you’ve been going out, exploring, and enjoying your new city?”
“I have.” I smiled as I turned to look out at the street below. “I’ve been having a wonderful time, actually.”
“That’s great news. I was worried you’d bury yourself in work and forget that the outside world even existed.”
“Never,” I said dryly but sent my laptop a guilty glance. “I do work hard. I can’t deny that, but I’ve struck a balance, I think.”
“Good,” she said gently. “Are you happy, Jacque?”
The question caught me off guard, but as I stared at the cars crawling along the street below, I found myself smiling again. “Yes, I am. Or at least, I think I could be.”
“That sounds like a maybe.”
“It’s a work in progress,” I admitted. “Progress is, however, being made, so that’s good, right?”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Is anyone helping with that progress, then?”
I let out a soft, surprised breath that she’d guessed it so fast. My gaze drifted back to the bedroom as I thought about the progress I’d made only in the last fourteen hours or so. “Actually, yes. I met someone. It’s nothing serious, but it’s good.”
“Oh?”
I smiled to myself. “He’s a lot, but I like him.”
“A lot good or a lot of trouble?”
I chuckled. “Both, probably.”
“That sounds about right for you,” she teased. “I suppose I wouldn’t know him, but what’s he like? What’s his name?”
My grip on the phone tightened slightly. “Do you remember Jesse Westwood? We met him at the Roderick Estate months ago, before I moved.”
As soon as I mentioned his name, she got really, really quiet and I immediately regretted opening my mouth, but the cat was out of the bag now anyhow. “Mom?”
I could practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighed. “Is that really who you’re seeing? Of all the people in the world, you choose a Westwood?”
I winced. “I know, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m serious,” she pressed, cutting over me with her voice tightening so much that it put me on edge as well. “I’ve made my peace with what happened, but some of those people are not to be trusted.”
“You mean how the family treated you differently after you were adopted?” I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain that always came with those particular memories even of my own childhood. “Yes, Mom. I know.”
“They didn’t just treat us differently, darling. I didn’t fit their idea of what a Westwood should be and neither did you.”
“I know, Mom, but Jesse isn’t like that.”
“You’ve been there for two minutes, Jacqueline. It’s impossible to know what he’s really like so fast.”
“He’s not like your uncles and their families. The Chicago Westwoods just aren’t the same. They’ve been nothing but nice so far.”
“Nice doesn’t mean anything,” she retorted. “Not with them. Those people will hurt you, given the chance.”
Sighing, I stared out at the skyline again and watched my faint reflection in the glass for a beat before I shook my head. “You haven’t even met them, Mom.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Jacque, listen to me,” she said gently. “All the Westwoods care about is legacy, reputation, and image. If you don’t fit their mold, you’re out. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be. Save yourself the heartache. Trust me.”
I swallowed hard, an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest as her words sank in, but she wasn’t even done yet. “Blood is thicker than water is practically their motto and even then, sometimes, that’s not enough.”
“Mom—”
“No, Jacque. Listen to me. I’m trying to protect you.
My dad’s brothers turned him into the black sheep of the family, a laughingstock, over something neither he nor my mother could control.
They struggled to conceive. So what? They still had a baby.
Me. And you know how dearly they loved us all, but the rest of the Westwood clan?
They never accepted me or you. It won’t be any different now. ”
I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to argue because this wasn’t just an opinion for her.
It was history, her lived experience that had shaped the way she’d moved through the world all her life.
But still. “You’ve spent a bit of time with Jesse and his brother, Will.
Did they really strike you as the same kind of vindictive assholes as the other cousins? ”
“They always seem different at first,” she said quietly. “I’ll admit that both Jesse and Will were friendly enough, but it was Eliza who invited us in, darling. Not them. Don’t forget that.”
I glanced back at the kitchen, toward the stupidly thoughtful breakfast Jesse had sent and the little note attached to it. Honestly, he didn’t strike me as the type to shun anyone, but surely not for something like that.
“I just—” I started, but then stopped. What am I even trying to prove?
That the man I’d known for all of five minutes was somehow the exception to a decades-long family dynamic? That seemed awfully convenient.
“I’ll be careful,” I said finally. Neither of us would win this argument until Jesse himself proved one of us right and the other wrong. Until then, this was the only thing I could offer to ease her mind. “I promise, I will be careful.”
Mom was quiet for another beat before she sighed again.
“That’s all I’m asking. Just watch your back and don’t get too involved.
I know how tempting it is to get caught up in them, the riches, and the glamour, and the charm.
But bear in mind that they’ll always keep you at arm’s length.
You’re not one of them and they’ll never let you forget it. ”
At those words, I felt ice slowly seeping through my veins. We wrapped up the call not long after, the conversation drifting back to safer territory, but the ease I’d felt earlier never quite returned.
All the Westwoods care about is legacy. If you don’t fit their mold, you’re out.
The sentiment echoed through my mind a few times, but I wasn’t blind to the fact that Jesse Westwood was hardly the poster child for fitting a mold. The man practically tripped over his own chaos on a daily basis.
He was reckless, impulsive, and completely unfiltered. Definitely not the polished, calculating figure my mom was describing.
Yet…
He now worked for W&S under his brother. Even if it sounded like he’d had a pretty good thing going for himself in Miami. He’d dragged me into a fake relationship because that same brother had asked and the only explanation he’d offered was that his family needed this.
On the other hand, it was also true that he’d run here all the way from the museum last night—in the rain, no less—to check on me. Part of my brain tried reasoning he’d only done it to get in my pants, but I knew that wasn’t true.
When he’d arrived, he’d come simply because of Thomas and his concern for me after the altercation.
As I thought of the look on Thomas’s face when he’d seen me, my stomach twisted.
It had been such a relief to see Jesse after that.
To know that he’d seen it go down and had cared enough to come after me.
Surely, that had to mean that he wasn’t like the rest. I pressed my lips together, shaking my head and deciding I was absolutely not thinking about that today.
Grabbing the last bit of croissant still sitting on my plate on the coffee table, I took a bite, but where it’d been perfect and fluffy before, it tasted like nothing now.
Is she right? The question burst through from the back of the mind. Surely not. She can’t be. Not about the Jesse I’ve been getting to know.
And yet, I knew I had to keep my eyes a little further open from now on. Jesse might seem like the exception, but the rule existed for a reason, and despite the evidence to the contrary, I couldn’t fool myself into believing that he wasn’t like the rest of them at all.