Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LAUREN
“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” I can barely get the words out past the huge lump in my throat, and the inside of my nose stings like it always does when I’m about to cry.
“You had feelings for me and you . . . what? Couldn’t handle thinking about a future for us because Audrey got pregnant, then you pawned me off on Josh because he was looking to settle down? ”
What he’s told me confirms my worst suspicions about why Josh wanted to get married so quickly—it wasn’t because he couldn’t live without me, it was because fucking Barb was hounding him to give her grandchildren.
The irony of her hating me and almost never seeing her grandchildren is not lost on me.
Hot tears are now cresting my lower lids and I wipe them away with my napkin.
“You were always the one that got away, Lauren.”
“I didn’t get away. You pushed me away.”
“Same difference.”
“No.” My voice reflects my certainty and my anger. “It’s not. The difference is enormous. It didn’t have to happen that way.”
“It did. You were too young. You were looking for forever, and I couldn’t offer you that.”
“That’s total bullshit, Jameson, and you know it.
Yeah, you found yourself in the position of having to help raise another kid, unexpectedly, just when you thought your sisters were grown and flown.
But if you’d wanted to, you could have made room for me in your life, in your family.
And you know what I would have done, if you’d let me? ”
“What?”
“I’d have adored Graham then, just like I do now. He’s a great kid, and he deserves to have all the people in his corner, not just you, Audrey, and Jules. But he can’t, because you push everyone away.”
Across the booth, he sits with that for a minute. “I don’t push everyone away. The people I love, I hold them close and protect them. Jules and Audrey? Those two are the best thing I ever did.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You sound like you’re eighty.
I’m not diminishing what you sacrificed to raise them.
” I think about what it must have been like to retire at the peak of his NHL career so he could be there for his sisters.
“You did a really great job. But also, you’re entitled to the life you want to have. You’re entitled to be happy too.”
He gets up and comes to my side of the booth, sliding in next to me. He puts one arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, using his other hand to wipe away the tears. I rest my head on his chest. He smells like oranges and cloves and wood—spicy and masculine.
I’m so mad that he made this decision for us five years ago without giving me a say. But also, I feel safe in his arms. It’s a confusing and conflicting place to be.
“I don’t think you understand. I never wanted to get married. I saw what marriage can do to a person, how it absolutely destroyed my father when my stepmom died.”
“I think you saw what grief can do to a person. But it doesn’t have to be like that, Jameson. Just because that’s how your dad handled his grief, it doesn’t mean you have to choose that path.”
“I’d convinced myself that I was happy being single,” he says. “But you make me realize that I could be so much happier.”
“You’re saying things that twenty-five-year-old me dreamed of hearing . . .” I sigh.
“But not thirty-year-old you?”
“Jameson, thirty-year-old me has two kids. And you just told me that you had a vasectomy because you never wanted kids.”
“First of all, they’re reversible. And second, I was pretty certain. But you and Ivy and Iris have made me see that differently too.”
I freeze, paralyzed by this admission. “I literally just figured out that you want more than a friends-with-benefits situation . . .” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. “Now you’re talking about marriage? And kids?”
He shrugs. “I’m saying that, for the first time in my life, I can picture that for myself. Even though I raised my sisters and have helped with Graham, I never pictured myself as a dad. There’s never been anyone else who I wanted to imagine a future with.”
“I’m starting to question whether you know the meaning of ‘take it slow,’ Jameson.
” I make a joke out of it because I’m still processing.
I didn’t think there was any way I would ever trust someone again after all the ways Josh lied to me, but Jameson is making me reconsider that . . . and it scares me.
“I’m taking it slow for your sake,” he says, pressing his lips to the top of my hair again. “I told you earlier, I’m not making the same mistake again. I’m not going anywhere—I’ll be here, waiting, until you’re ready.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with that? Because I don’t know how long it will take me to truly be ready to move on.”
“I can wait as long as you need.”
I hope he really means that, because I’m not sure what it would take for me to be ready to invite someone into my life in the way he’s describing. But if there’s anyone I can picture that with, it’s him.
“What the hell happened to your face?” Jules asks Jameson the minute we walk in the door. “You look even more hideous than normal.”
He rolls his eyes, then winces.
“Got in a little bit of an altercation last night with Lauren’s ex-boyfriend from high school.”
“At a wedding?” she says. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Not at the wedding,” he clarifies. “After.”
Apparently, sometime after I fell asleep in his arms last night, exhausted from even more orgasms, he snuck out of bed and met my brothers to go have “a little chat with our friend Justin.” I knew nothing about it until I woke up this morning and the outside corner of his eye was purple and swollen.
“And why was he fighting with your ex-boyfriend from high school?” Jules asks me, her voice teasing, because she obviously thinks he got jealous.
“I was righting some wrongs, and making sure it never happens again,” Jameson answers before I can say anything.
“Like I told you this morning, that situation had been handled at the wedding. I don’t need you going around trying to save me, you idiot.”
“It wasn’t finished, because he stupidly said you were going to regret it. Now it’s finished.”
“Looks like you got what you deserved for going behind Lauren’s back, though,” Jules says. “Want an ice pack?”
“He got a lucky punch in because he got loose when Lauren’s brothers were supposed to be holding him. Doesn’t matter, he’s never pulling that shit again.”
He glances over at me and I roll my eyes. I kind of love the way my brothers got along so well with him, but I’m not some helpless woman in need of defending, and I thought I’d made that clear at the wedding.
At least his bruised eye was an opening to a conversation about Justin’s past actions when we met my parents for breakfast this morning.
Dad was furious that I hadn’t told them when it happened, Mom was disappointed that I “didn’t trust them” enough to say something sooner.
I tried to explain that, at the time, I just wanted to move on and forget about it, but my dad was insistent that he didn’t want to have someone on his coaching staff who’d tried to attack a woman.
Jameson said that alone was worth the black eye.
“After all the fighting you’ve done on the ice, you should have been able to duck a little quicker,” I tease as Jules heads to the freezer for an ice pack even though Jameson didn’t say he wanted one. He looks like he needs it.
“What can I say? I’m getting slow in my old age.”
I almost joke that he was probably exhausted from all the sex but catch myself just in time. We’d agreed on the drive home that “taking it slow” meant we should probably keep this to ourselves for a bit while we figured out what a relationship would even look like between us.
“Where are the girls?” I ask Jules. Morgan said she was bringing them over in my car so they’d be here when I got back, but I think she just wanted to hang out with Jules and Audrey, and probably wanted someone for my girls to play with too.
“Downstairs with Morgan, Audrey, and Graham.”
“There’s a downstairs?” I ask.
“Yeah, we refinished the basement a few years ago. The front part is a walk-out and serves as my and Audrey’s office where we sometimes meet with clients and she does all her drafting.
The back half of it is a kids’ playroom—you should go check out the climbing wall I built Graham while I finish getting dinner together. You are staying for dinner, right?”
“Uhh . . .” My eyes meet Jameson’s and he’s clearly amused that I’m flustered by this invitation. It’s one thing to not tell his sisters about us, it’s another to try to pretend nothing’s going on while sharing a meal with them. “Sure, that sounds great. Thanks.”
I have no idea how we thought we’d be able to keep this a secret.
I’m sure Audrey, Jules, and Morgan were already speculating about us before we returned from the wedding, and before we even finish the meal, it’s clear they know exactly what’s up.
There are so many sideways glances being thrown around, even with Jameson and me at nearly opposite ends of the table.
I told myself it was better that we weren’t sitting next to each other, but after thirty-six hours alone with the man, I hate having him this far away.
And that’s probably what’s tipped them off—because every time I glance over at him, our eyes meet, which means he’s doing a whole lot of looking at me too.
But how could I not stare at him? He’s got Graham on one side of him, and Ivy on the other, and he’s handling them both like a pro—answering all of Graham’s questions, and guessing the animals as Ivy makes the relative sounds.
He’s . . . good with kids, supportive and sarcastic with his sisters, and incredibly patient with me. By all accounts, he’s perfect. For me, anyway.
His phone must start buzzing in his pocket because he takes it out and says, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” then rushes upstairs.
Audrey and Jules look at each other, then Audrey says, “Wow, it must be serious.”
But then the two of them and Morgan are staring at me. “So . . .” Jules says, then glances at Graham. “You’re s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g with my brother now?”
At my instantaneous, beet-red reaction, Morgan says, “Well, that’s a yes.”
“Guys.” The word is a hiss. “I cannot have this conversation right now.”
“Why not?” Audrey asks. “We’re happy about this development.”
“This is something for him to talk to you about, not me,” I say.
But, man, do I want to go out for drinks with the three of them and spill all my secrets.
It’s complicated by the fact that Jules and Audrey are related to him, though.
I can’t tell them about the amazing sex, or how much I liked the domineering side of him I saw in the car after that interaction with Justin.
But I could tell them about how careful he’s been with me, how committed he is to the idea of us, how he said that my girls and I have made him rethink marriage and kids. Knowing that he’d want to step into that role with my girls . . . my heart is melting just thinking about it.
“Man, I wish I was privy to that conversation,” Jules laughs.
I glance toward the stairs, thinking she must mean the one Jameson is having on the phone, but we can’t hear a sound. “What conversation?”
“The one you’re having in your head.”
“Yeah—” The laugh that escapes borders on hysterical. “—there’s a lot going on in there right now.”
“Want to have a girls’ night and talk about it?” Jules asks. “As long as Jameson is around to watch Graham, Audrey and I could come to your place one night this week after your girls go to bed. Maybe we can see if Paige is around too?”
“Sure,” I say as Jameson comes down the stairs behind me. “We’ll plan something.”
“What was that about?” Audrey asks him when he takes his seat at the table.
“I have to go to California tomorrow.” His jaw is tight, and I can sense his frustration.
“And there goes girls’ night.” Jules sighs, leaning back in her chair.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, looking around the table at the four of us.
Next to me, Iris starts asking to get down. I take her out of her booster seat so she can toddle around, and without needing to be asked, Jameson does the same for Ivy. The two of them run into the living room, and Graham follows.
“It means we were going to see if you could watch Graham one night so Audrey and I could go have a girls’ night at Lauren’s place.”
“I only plan on being gone for a night, or two nights, max. I’ll definitely be home in time for the charity game on Wednesday night,” he says, looking at me.
Thank goodness. The Rebels Charity game is a huge annual fundraiser for Boston’s largest homeless shelter, and Jameson is one of many former Rebels scheduled to play.
“And,” he says, turning to Jules, “I’m sure you can still have your girls’ night on Thursday or Friday. ”
Is it my imagination, or does he sound just a little jealous that I’ll be hanging out with his sisters one night this week instead of with him?
“How about I follow you home and help you get everything from this weekend unpacked from the car,” he says to me.
I’m about to tell him he doesn’t need to do that, since all I have is a carry-on suitcase.
And I’m more than capable of taking care of that and my kids.
But then I realize this is his way of spending a little more time with me before he has to fly out tomorrow.
So after Jules and Audrey assure us they don’t need help cleaning up from dinner, I head out to my SUV with my girls, and Jameson follows us home.