Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I smooth my dress nervously, a navy blue wrap that I bought years ago and barely wear. The restaurant is nicer than our usual haunts—white tablecloths, soft lighting, and actual cloth napkins. Reeves looks handsome in his button-down shirt, his dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.
"Twenty-eight dollars for chicken parm?" Reeves mutters, scanning the menu. "That's highway robbery."
"We deserve a nice night out," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Besides, we just got that money for the cat."
"Don't remind me." Reeves scowls. "That cat is eating us out of house and home. Why did you even start feeding him Fancy Feast?"
"Liam loves him." I fiddle with my water glass. "When's the last time we did something romantic like this?"
The waiter approaches, and I order two appetizers—bruschetta and grilled calamari, and breaded lemon chicken. My stomach's in knots.
"I'll have the chicken parm," Reeves says, handing back the menu with a sigh.
Once we're alone, I take a deep breath. "What if I told you we could make another fifty thousand? And you wouldn't have to lift a finger."
Reeves freezes, his eyes narrowing as he processes my words. His entire body goes rigid, the muscles in his jaw tightening visibly beneath his dark beard.
The candlelight catches the tension in his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the dangerous glint that appears in those nearly black eyes. His large hands stop midway to his water glass, hovering there like he's forgotten what he was doing.
I've seen this expression before—it's the same one he wore when the bank called about our third late mortgage payment, or when the doctor first mentioned Liam's hearing issues. It's Reeves calculating, weighing options, trying to decide how to proceed.
The silence between us stretches uncomfortably across the pristine white tablecloth, making the ambient restaurant chatter seem suddenly too loud, too intrusive on our private moment. "This is about Caine, isn't it?"
"He made an offer—"
"What does he want now? To fuck you for fifty grand?" His voice rises. "Is that what this is? Some Indecent Proposal bullshit?"
"Keep your voice down," I hiss, glancing at nearby tables. "It's not that."
The harshness of his words hangs in the air, a palpable weight pressing down on the fragile truce we've maintained throughout dinner. "Pretty Woman, then? You want to be his whore?"
The question is a barb, laced with hurt and disbelief, and it cuts deeper than I care to admit. My heart pounds in my chest, the rhythm erratic and panicked, as I struggle to find a response that doesn't further ignite the fire of his resentment.
I look at Reeves, really look at him, taking in the lines of exhaustion etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights spent worrying about our future.
I see the man I fell in love with, the one with dreams as big as the sky and a laugh that could light up the darkest room. But that man is buried under layers of stress and fear, a casualty of our financial problems and the relentless pressure to keep our family afloat.
"No, Reeves," I say softly, reaching across the table to grab his hand.
"It's not like that. You know me better than that.
" His hand is cold, and I can feel the tension vibrating through him.
"Caine sees something in me, and he's willing to pay for it.
He's really into photography, and he says I would make a good model.
He wants to take pictures of me at his place, in his studio. It's a transaction, that's all."
Reeves pulls his hand away, the rejection stinging more than I expect. "A transaction," he echoes, his voice hollow. "Fifty grand to take pictures of my wife. It's... it's obscene."
I nod, acknowledging the truth in his words. "He wants to photograph me. That's it."
"Photograph you." Reeves’s laugh is bitter. "Naked, I assume?"
I nod, unable to meet his eyes.
"Of course." He drains his wine glass. "And you want to do it, don't you?"
"It's fifty thousand dollars, Reeves.”
“And this excites you…,” he says, not so much a question, but a statement.
“No,” I straight out lie.
He blows out a huge breath — the poor man is speechless.
"I know it's a lot to take in," I tell him. "But think about what that money could do for us. For Liam. For the pool hall." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "It's about taking control of our lives, about making a choice that could change everything for us."
He's silent, his gaze fixed on the half-eaten meal in front of him.
I can see the cogs turning in his mind, the internal battle raging behind those dark eyes.
"And what happens after the photos?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What is he doing with the photos? What happens when he wants more? "
"We set boundaries," I reply, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "We make it clear that this is a one-time thing. Nothing more."
Reeves scoffs, the sound bitter and devoid of humor. "Boundaries. Right." He shakes his head, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You really think we can set boundaries with a man like Caine Hall?"
I want to argue, to reassure him that we can handle Caine, that we can maintain control over this situation. But the truth is, I'm not sure of anything anymore. All I know is that we're drowning, and Caine's offer is the only lifeline in sight.
"I don't know, Reeves," I admit, my voice barely louder than the clinking of silverware around us. "But I do know that we need to make a decision. Together."
He looks up at me then, his eyes searching mine for something—assurance, forgiveness, understanding. I hold his gaze, letting him see the determination mixed with the fear that's become my constant companion.
"Alright," he says finally, the resolve in his voice cutting through the uncertainty. "Let's talk to this bastard and see what he's really offering. But I'm warning you, Jenna, if he so much as steps over the line—"
"He won't," I interrupt, the conviction in my voice surprising even me. "Because I won't let him. We won't let him."
"And I want to be there… at the photo shoot. There's no fucking way I'm leaving him alone with you."
I swallow hard. "Sure… I will bring that up with him. I'm sure it won't be a problem.”
Reeves nods, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.
And as we sit there, hands clasped across the table, I can't help but wonder if we might be making a huge mistake by even considering this, if the potential rewards are worth the risks. But as I look into Reeves’s eyes, I know that we're in this together, bound by love and desperation and the desire to give our son the life he deserves.
"At least we might be able to afford dessert now," Reeves says, his attempt at a joke falling flat in the heavy silence.
I manage a small smile, squeezing his hand in silent agreement. "Yeah," I whisper, the word tasting like a promise, like hope. "At least there's that."
He's quiet for a long moment, jaw working. "I'm sick of this guy thinking he can buy whatever he wants. Buy my wife."
"It's just photos," I whisper, though my mind flashes to the storage room, Caine's hands on me. The guilt burns my throat.
When dessert arrives—lemon tartufo for me, tiramisu for him—we eat in contemplative silence. The sweetness tastes like victory, like possibility.
I stir my lemon tea, watching Anna and Lola devour their cookies with the kind of enthusiasm only three-year-olds can muster.
My sister Julie drones on about their upcoming trip to the Turks and Caicos, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her chai latte cup.
We don't see each other often, and it's not because we're too busy. It's because I can't stand her.
"The girls are so excited about swimming with dolphins," Julie beams. "David booked us the presidential suite."
I nod, forcing a smile. The cafe's warm lighting and exposed brick walls usually comfort me, but today they feel suffocating. My sister's life is a highlight reel of perfect moments, while mine...
She loves to gloat about her perfect life, about all her family's travels, knowing very well that Reeves and I can't afford to go anywhere. She spends money like it grows on trees; only the best for Julie. Yet… has she ever offered to help us, knowing we're struggling?
Nope.
I know my choices and my financial issues are not her problems, but still… If she offered, I wouldn't accept, of course, but I'd love to see her be kind and not so self-centred for once.
"Jenna, are you even listening?" Julie's perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow.
"Sorry, just tired." I wrap my hands around my cup, seeking warmth. "The pool hall's been busy."
Julie's lips purse. "You know, if you'd finished your studies like I suggested..."
I tune her out, thinking of Dad instead. He would've known exactly what to say right now, how to make me feel better with just a gentle smile and a squeeze of my hand. He never played favorites, but I know it killed Julie that he and I had a special bond.
The twins giggle over something on their mom’s phone, reminding me of how Julie and I used to be close before Dad died. Before she became... this.
My mind drifts to Caine again, like it often does, at the most random times. I love the way he looks at me like I'm something precious, not a project to fix. Julie would lose her mind if she knew about him, about this photo session proposal. She'd probably call our mother.
Perhaps that's where this intense attraction comes from—Caine is like my late dad in so many ways, just as sweet and patient. And he's also hot as hell.
"Earth to Jenna!" Julie snaps her fingers. "I asked if you're coming to Mom's birthday dinner next month. She's rented out that new French place downtown."
I think of the mounting bills at home, of Reeves’s worried frown. Of Caine's offer that could solve everything.
"I'll have to check our schedule," I mumble, knowing full well Julie won't offer to help with the cost.
Some things never change.
"Hey, so I was at the tracks with Robert and some of his clients last week," she starts. "And I saw Reeves there."
Oh shit.
I don't say a word. I don't want to give my sister the satisfaction.
But this news concerns me. Everyone knows Reeves likes the horses a little too much.
And betting on games. And high-stakes poker, too.
He's a good poker player, but still… We discussed this, and he promised to quit. Well, apparently, he hasn't.
"I know you guys are struggling, and I'm sure Reeves’s ways are not helping." She shakes her head in disapproval.
"I'm sure it's fine," I tell her. "It's his way of blowing off a little steam."
"Well, he was there alone," she points out. "That's not a good sign."
I blow out a long breath and take a sip of my tea. She's really starting to annoy me — this is why we barely see each other. And I hate the fact that she might be right.
"Well, at least he wasn't with some bimbo," she quips. "I've always said that man is too charming for his own good."
I don't like what she's insinuating. I bet she'd love it if Reeves cheated on me — it would confirm all her past accusations, delivered in the forms of subtle wisecracks. Deep down, I know she's jealous because I snagged a gorgeous six-foot-three Adonis who turns heads when he walks into a room.
And she's with Robert, a neurotic nerd who insists on perfect order in his house. But the man is good with numbers and makes boatloads of money, so there's that.
I shake my head and silently scold myself. I'm being so despicable —what the fuck is wrong with me? I probably need therapy — this sibling rivalry has turned me into a cruel bitch — Robert is a sweetheart, and sometimes I think he's too good for my pretentious sister.
"Anyway, I certainly wouldn't want your life, Jenna," she goes on. "That husband of yours is an unpredictable man."
I smile at her words. If anyone is being unpredictable these days, it's me, not Reeves. If anyone's cheating, it's me.
"It's exhausting, that's for sure." I smile, and reach into my oversized purse for the fun grab bags I prepared for the girls — they love them because they always contain fruit gummies — and their mean mom and dad don't let them have much candy.
Candy. Delicious, sweet, forbidden, cavity-causing candy. That's what cool aunts are for.