Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
THEN | JAX
Yeah, I could’ve asked my mom point-blank. But this? This is way better. Two birds. One Sisk.
I made sure to tell Ronny to stay inside, which was a damn good call, because the second she steps out of her building, every thought in my head just screeches to a halt.
It’s not some crazy fancy dress. I can tell. But on her? Wow. It’s black, tight in all the right places, and definitely a little too short for what my mother would call “respectable.” Her legs… fuck. Her legs. I’ve never seen her in anything like this. I realize I’m staring like a damn fool.
She gives me a look. “Really?”
I raise both hands in surrender. “Hey, if I’m guilty of anything, it’s having eyes.” I open the car door for her.
She rolls her eyes as she slides in. I shut the door behind her and circle around slowly, trying to get my damn heartbeat under control. Dinner’s going to be absolute hell. But right now? Worth every second.
I’m still thinking about the way the dress dipped low on her back when she turned when she suddenly says, “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
“They don’t bite.”
She scoffs. “You think I’m afraid of your parents?”
“I mean…”
“Please.” She snaps her seatbelt harshly. “I’m not scared of them. I’m scared of myself—sitting across some fancy candlelit table trying not to embarrass the shit out of myself while your mom serves dinner with tweezers.”
I laugh. “It’s not that serious. It’s just dinner.”
“With your family, Jax. That’s not dinner. That’s an event. There are probably courses.”
“There might be one or two—”
“Pitfire!”
I glance over at her, trying not to grin. “What, you think they’re gonna quiz you on which fork to use?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a rich person made me feel like I don’t belong just by existing.”
“My parents are lucky to have you as their guest.”
She stares out the window, arms crossed, lips pressed tight in a line.
“I asked you because I wanted you there,” I explain. “Not because I want to show you off. Not because of the thing I need you to ask. I mean—yes, that too. But mostly…”
She doesn’t look at me, just keeps staring out the window. “This isn’t an intro-to-the-parents dinner, Jax. This is… I don’t know. A business transaction.”
I can’t help it. I grin. “Oh really? Business?” I glance over at her. “So what’s the price of your time? And what am I getting out of this deal?”
She finally turns to me. “You’re getting information. I’m just hoping I don’t get indigestion.”
“Indigestion is a small price to pay for access to the St. Clair vault of secrets,” I shoot back. “And you’re getting to see me in my natural habitat. That’s worth something, right?”
“Your natural habitat is a graffiti-covered brick wall and a can of spray paint,” she says, but the cocky grin is still there. “This is a performance. You’re performing ‘good son’ and I’m performing ‘girlfriend who can use a fork.’”
“Hey, you can use a fork, I’ve seen you.”
She shifts in her seat, pulling the hem of her dress down a little, pointlessly. “Not eat french fries with a fork expert, though,” she says as she side-eyes me. “Some of us weren’t raised in a fancy restaurant, Jax. I actually use my fingers for food.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough.”
“Just… don’t leave me alone with your mom.”
“No promises.”
Her head snaps around. “Jax.”
I throw one hand up. “Kidding. I’ll be your human shield. You’ll be fine.”
She slumps back in her seat, muttering, “I should’ve stayed home and made ramen.”
I lean a little closer. “Now, do you normally eat ramen with your hands, or… do you just lick the bowl clean when you’re done?” I tease, letting my gaze drop to her mouth.
“Funny,” she says, but the corner of her mouth twitches.
She crosses her legs and the fabric of the dress pulls tight across her thigh, and my brain short-circuits. I have to force myself to look back at the road. Okay. Think about forks. Think about ramen. Think about anything but the way her legs look right now.
Ronny pulls into the long gravel driveway that leads up to the house. Tonight, we’re both getting answers, whether we like them or not.
* * *
I offer her my hand as we approach the door and she narrows her eyes at it like it’s a trick. “I’m not holding your hand like this is a date.”
“This only works if they think you’re my girlfriend,” I explain.
She keeps walking. I turn to face her fully, blocking her path to the door.
“Look—my parents aren’t going to talk if they think you’re just some girl I dragged along for fun.
But if they think you and I are… serious?
That’s when they’ll pay attention. That’s when my mom might actually let something slip. ”
“You’re insane.”
“Possibly,” I admit. “But I’m also right.”
She lets out a defeated sigh. And for a brief second… I notice everything. The little freckles across her nose, the way her lashes are long enough to cast a shadow, and those damn dimples that only show up when she’s trying not to smile. Yeah. I’m completely, totally screwed.
“I hate you, you know?”
I smirk, letting my gaze lower for just a second before meeting her eyes again. “You look beautiful.”
She glares. “Don’t.”
“I’m just saying—it’s convincing.”
She starts to turn away from me, and I catch her hand to stop her. Her fingers twitch in mine but she doesn’t pull away.
“This only works,” I remind her, “if they believe we’re together. Can you do that?”
Her eyes meet mine. I think she might actually turn around and leave, but she doesn’t. She just stands there, her hand still in mine. “I’ll do my best.”
I open the door.
Dad’s already there, waiting in the entryway like he’s been briefed on a diplomatic arrival. He steps forward first and extends his hand toward Sisk.
“A pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, warm, polished, all bedside manner. “I’m Dr. St. Clair. You can call me Daniel, of course.”
Sisk takes his hand—awkward but polite. “Thank you for having me. It’s… beautiful here.”
I can’t believe my father is actually doing this. He’s here. My father is actually here. Home. For dinner. It’s a fucking miracle.
“I apologize in advance,” he adds, giving her a charming smile. “If we don’t quite know how to behave. This is the first time Jax has ever brought a girlfriend home.”
Here we go.
“We honestly couldn’t believe it when he said he wanted to introduce someone,” he goes on, laying it on thick. “He’s always been… well, reserved.”
Sisk glances at me. I look away, staring at a fucking painting on the wall like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Reserved. That’s one word for it.
“I had a thoracoscopic procedure scheduled tonight,” Dad continues. “Minimally invasive, pleural effusion. Had two residents lined up to observe. But when Anne mentioned this dinner… had to cancel.”
Sisk flushes, a deep pink creeping up her neck. “Oh, you really didn’t have to cancel for me—”
“Jax said he was bringing a girl to dinner and I figured—well, either the sun finally rose in the west or she’s something special.” He says with a grin. “Absolutely had to.” Then he laughs at himself. “Oh, listen to me babbling. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”
“Water, please,” Sisk answers.
I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I don’t know whether to be grateful or furious that he’s trying this hard.
Sisk exhales. Her shoulders slump like she’s been holding something in since she stepped through the door. “I think I need a minute, Jax.”
“Let’s go to my room,” I say quickly. “Dinner’s not ready yet.”
She follows me upstairs, her footsteps hesitant on the stairs.
I open the door and let her step inside first. She sinks onto the edge of my bed, smoothing her hands over her dress.
A small smile plays at her lips, and I have no idea what it means.
I sit beside her, close but not touching.
The silence feels loaded, but not uncomfortable.
Two minutes later. Knock knock. The door opens a second later, and my dad steps in, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small linen napkin in the other like he’s some kind of butler.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says smoothly, eyes darting between us. “Thought I’d bring this up, in case you didn’t want to come back down just yet.”
Sisk straightens like she’s been caught doing something illicit. “Thank you, Dr. St. Clair.”
He smiles. “Daniel.”
“Daniel,” she corrects softly, taking the glass with both hands. He nods once, steps back into the hallway, and gently closes the door behind him.
Sisk exhales, clutching the glass like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating away and out the window.
We’re left in silence and I realize—this might actually work.
“Look,” I say, moving an inch closer. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this going down…”
She turns to me, her eyes guarded like a fortress.
“But what you said, back at the restaurant—that you’re not the kind of girl I’d introduce to my family…”
She looks away.
“That’s not true,” I go on. “You are, Sisk.”
She blinks.
“And they’re gonna love you. I mean, my dad’s already ready to write you into the will. Did you see his face?”
She gives me a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. “Jax…”
“I know this isn’t real,” I say, closing the distance between us. “But they think it is. And… I guess I’m glad they do.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Did you plan all this? Just to prove a point?”
“No. Not really.” I hesitate. “But I’m glad I got the chance.”
I lean in, closing the space between us a tad more. She doesn’t move away. “I know you’re going to the Formal with Ivan. I know you’re leaving soon. And I won’t get to…”
I reach out, brushing her hair behind her ear. Somehow, I always seem to end up doing that. “I just needed you to know. You are the kind of girl I’d bring home. You’re the only one I ever have. And…” I pause, forcing the words out. “You’re the only girl I want to take seriously.”
Her eyes search mine—like she doesn’t trust what she’s hearing, like part of her wants to, and the other part wants to bolt.
But she doesn’t run; she leans in, and I kiss her.
It’s slow, at first as if we’re testing the ice, making sure it won’t crack under our weight.
Then her fingers find my hair and I stop caring about anything but this.
“Dinner’s ready!”
The voice echoes up the stairs ruining everything.
We pull back, lips still inches apart.
I bite back a curse.