Chapter 12
JULES
Iblinked against the sunlight, cutting through the curtains, squinting as I figured out where I was.
Carefully, I got up, trying my best to be quiet.
I tiptoed across the room, dodging scattered pieces of clothing on the floor.
I looked back at Chris sprawled out on the bed, hair a total mess, looking way too good for someone who was still sleeping.
What did I do?
Impulsive Jules hadn’t made an appearance in years. Almost a decade, actually. I was the dependable one, the one running checklists for everything. Mom of two, award-winning professional, and divorcee. And yet, last night…
Something about Chris had cracked through all of that, and I’d let myself feel for the first time in forever. Damn, it felt amazing. I’ve had good sex before, but it was next-level, soul-shattering, essence-leaving-your-body kind of sex. But now, reality was knocking loud and hard.
Welcome back, anxiety.
What does it mean? What happens when he wakes up?
My eyes found a clock on the nightstand.
Shit. It was almost time for my kids to wake up for school.
I’d never stayed out all night before. Would they notice I hadn’t been home?
I needed to get out before I went into full panic mode.
I scrambled to find my dress, slipping it on as quickly as I could.
Shoes. Shoes. Shoes.
Shit-fuck. Where did they go?
My mind was going a hundred miles an hour, but my body felt heavy as if resisting every step toward the door, a pull stronger than my freak-outs wanting to drag me back into bed, into those insane arms, so my skin would find home in the warmth of his.
Behind me, I hear movement. I froze as his groggy voice broke through the quiet.
“Morning…”
Caught halfway between staying and running, I turned to him, trying to keep my cool.
“Morning.”
His damn ocean-blue eyes had this way of settling my nerves, pulling me in when my brain was scrambling for me to leave. I stepped toward him, drawn by that magic pull, the memory of last night flooding my mind. The images came so hard that it made my thighs clench instinctively.
My fingertips could still feel the soft hair of his chest, tracing every line of all those tattoos.
I wondered what they meant. If they even meant anything.
In my daydreams, he’d had fewer. I was about to give in and let myself fall back into bed with him when—click.
I spun around in time to see Vanessa march in like she owned the place.
Her eyes locked on me with pure disdain.
“What are you doing here?” Chris seemed both surprised and irritated. And well, same.
She didn’t even blink. She bent down, picked up a piece of his clothing as it offended her, and then tossed it onto the bed.
“It’s almost eight. I assumed she’d be long gone by now.”
I stood there, torn between laughing at how absurd this was and wishing I could disappear. Chris looked at me, half-dressed, close to the door, and I saw that little light bulb go off. Yeah, he realized I was trying to sneak out.
“I’m sure five more minutes, and she would’ve been.” He muttered, brushing past Vanessa, completely naked, holding his clothes in one hand, and disappearing into the bathroom without a second look.
This motherfucker… Was that it?
My cheeks burned as I stared at the bathroom door.
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from yelling.
I should have known better than falling for some sweet talk from a Hollywood actor.
I wasn’t twenty anymore. I’d met enough of these types to know better.
And yet, here I was, letting myself believe it had actually meant something.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Vanessa turned to me with that smug little smirk. “Can I help you with anything else?”
I forced my fakest of smiles, because if the strength went anywhere else, it would go into finding new curse words to call out all her family members, descendants, and ancestors.
“Just looking for my shoes,” I said as I scanned the floor.
I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, but I wasn’t’ about to make this more embarrassing by leaving barefoot.
I tried to retrace our moves from last night to guess where the shoes might’ve ended up, but it took a lot to ignore the reactions my body had to those memories.
So instead, I decided to pace around every corner of the room, no thoughts allowed, even if it took a little longer.
After a few minutes, she reached into her bag, pulled out a document, a glossy magazine, a pen, and laid them on the table between us.
“Since you’re still here,” she began, “I think it would be best for all of us if you could sign this N.D.A.”
I stopped mid-search, staring at her, trying to piece together if this was real.
The mother fucking nerve. My anxiety was already at its limit, and she was throwing gasoline on the fire.
My eyes drifted to the heavy vase sitting on the dresser, and for a fleeting, beautiful moment, I imagined what it might look like shattered over her perfect, smug head.
“I’m sure you have no interest in selling the story of yet another meaningless hookup, but I would appreciate it if you could sign it.”
Meaningless. Hookup.
I let out a dry, humorless laugh as I found one of my shoes peeking out from under the bed. I grabbed it, my mind racing between making a scene or walking out as gracefully as I could.
Chris stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel slung low around his hips. Apparently, Vanessa wasn’t done humiliating me, so she added.
“I see… I’ll understand if you think compensation is in order.”
I turned to Chris, my gaze cutting through the room to meet his. Seriously? That was it. I took a step toward the bitch, fists clenched, but stopped myself before I did something stupid.
Instead, I spat out, “Go suck a dick.”
I heard Chris stifle a laugh behind me. Then, he finally stepped forward.
“Vanessa, seriously, what are you doing?” He might as well have stayed silent if that was all he had to say.
Completely unfazed, she gave him a blank look.
“I’m making sure your… guest is fairly compensated for signing this simple N.D.A.” Without hesitation, she took out some cash and placed it on top of the document as if sealing a transaction.
“She doesn’t need to sign anything,” Chris said, though his voice lacked the force I’d silently hoped for. I felt a flicker of disappointment. I was not sure what exactly I’d been expecting from him. Honestly, I was too tired to stress about his fuckboy attitude.
At least the orgasms were phenomenal. So, you know, not a total loss.
But Vanessa wasn’t done. “We need to be careful. We’ve worked too hard on the launch of your engagement. We don’t want infidelity rumors to start that soon, do we?”
No, no, no, no, no. The word hit me like a slap, knocking the air out of my lungs.
“Engagement?” It came out before I could stop it, almost a whisper.
The ice queen looked at me with fake concern.
“Oh,” she said. “You didn’t hear the good news?
” I could barely breathe as I stepped closer to the table.
My gaze landed on the magazine she had so conveniently placed on the side of the N.D.A.
There, right on the cover, was a photo of Chris and some picture-perfect blonde in the park, locked in a kiss.
The headline: “It’s Official! Chris Jones and Anna DeMarcus are Engaged! ”
Chris rushed to explain. “It’s a PR thing. I’m not really engaged. I barely know Anna…”
Vanessa, like a professional hitman, went straight for the jugular.
“Oh, I was really hoping things were becoming real after she spent that entire weekend at your apartment.”
I couldn’t take my eyes away from the magazine, my mind struggling to keep up with everything.
Maybe old me would have jumped into bed with a hot actor without a second thought, and I was glad to see a little of that reckless, carefree side of me surging again, but I would never be the girl who stays in the middle of someone else’s relationship.
How could this keep getting worse by the second? He lied about everything? Even the whole dreaming-about-us story? I’m guessing being a pathological liar was part of the Hollywood package.
“Shut up!” Chris finally snapped at the woman.
Why was I still standing here? I forced my feet to move, going towards the table. Vanessa’s face lit up in satisfaction. She was clearly expecting me to take the cash, sign the papers, and disappear from her sight.
I reached for the pen, my hands surprisingly steady despite the rage inside me.
I didn’t look at her. I signed my name across the document in silence, then slammed the pen back down.
The money? Untouched. My first instinct was to grab it all and shove it down the bitch’s throat.
But I kept my dignity intact and walked toward the door.
“What are you doing?” I could feel Chris’ panic in his voice. “It’s not real. I’m not really marrying the woman.” He said while following me.
Behind me, Vanessa chimed in with that insufferable, sugary tone.
“You really should. She is a-do-ra-ble.”
I reached the door in time to turn around and see him cut her a sharp look.
“One more word, and I swear…” he said, and she gave him an innocent look and made a locking motion across her lips with her fingers, pretending to zip them shut.
Chris quickly caught up with me and called out. “You only have one shoe.”
I was still looking straight at Vanessa. I lifted my hand and gave her the middle finger. If the universe were fair, she would trip over a rock later and go full faceplant onto the asphalt.
Then my eyes met Chris’. For a fleeting moment, I caught something.
A flicker of regret, maybe even an apology.
It was that same softness I’d seen in him last night.
But whatever that glimpse was, it wasn’t enough.
Because right behind it was the shallow, PR-controlled world he’d built for himself.
A world I had no business being a part of.
I turned and stepped out.
Goodbye, Chris.