Chapter 23
Reece
Jax dumps his armload on the counter, lifts the package with the body pillow from my uninjured shoulder, then reaches for the shoebox in my hand.
I jerk back. “I got this.”
“Don’t be stubborn. It’s our money.”
He yanks the box free with little resistance—my brace makes it impossible to maintain a firm grip, though I’m tempted to swing it at his head.
“First baby?” the associate asks with a knowing smile. She’s an older woman with gray hair pulled into a bun, purple glasses dangling from a pearl chain around her neck.
“Yup,” we reply in unison.
“You two are adorable.” She rings up the sneakers, the pregnancy pillow, and Jax’s impulse grabs. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you using a surrogate?”
A surrogate?
“Oh, no. We’re not—” I gesture between us. “We’re not together.”
“I have a boyfriend,” Jax volunteers needlessly. “But it’s not him.” He points at me, then cocks his head, reconsidering. “Though, technically, he is.”
“I’m not,” I protest.
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “We’re all together.”
I swat his hand away. “No, we’re not.”
“We are,” he counters. “Our mutual partner is pregnant with my boyfriend’s baby. Not this boyfriend.” He jerks his thumb in my direction. “Different guy. But we all live together. Sleep together. Do everything together.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, we don’t.”
A woman behind me tries to stifle a laugh but snorts instead, and I want to break Jackson’s kneecaps.
“We’re actually on our first date,” he continues to lie, as if I’m not standing right here, imagining ways to end him. “But we’ve been together for about five months.”
The woman’s gaze bounces between us, her smile frozen in place. “That’s…wonderful. How lovely.”
A muscle jumps beneath my eye. “Absolutely not. There’s nothing lovely about this.”
Jackson pats my arm in a placating gesture. “He’s working through some internalized issues.”
“No, I’m not.” I elbow him in the ribs. “Stop touching me.”
She gives me a wary glance. “Your total is $937.46.”
Are you kidding me? Almost a thousand dollars for baby shoes and clothes? Who spends that much on things the baby will outgrow in a few weeks?
Jackson doesn’t even blink as he taps his credit card against the reader. “Do you offer gift wrapping? It’s an apology gift.” He nods in my direction. “He flushed my engagement ring down the toilet in a fit of jealousy.”
Her eyes widen. “Um, we have reusable bags?” Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.
Given my size, all-black attire, tattoos, and piercings, plus Jackson’s low cap and unhinged behavior, she probably thinks we’re about to rob the place. Either that, or she fears we’ve just escaped from a mental hospital or prison.
I lean in close to Jackson. “You need to shut up before I cut out your tongue.”
“Ignore him.” He dismisses me with a wave. “Threats are his love language. Violence is how he expresses affection. He loves me—he took a bullet for me.”
The cashier scrambles to pack the items up, throws in some tissue paper, and sets them on the counter. I grab two in one hand and hurry away.
I push through the door, desperate for air and the monotony of the street noise. Anything is better than Jackson’s endless chatter. He has no filter, no boundaries, and everything is a joke.
“Where to next?” He sidles up beside me, swinging his bags, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We could go for coffee and dessert. Make this a proper date.”
I start walking. Fast. “This isn’t a date, and you don’t drink coffee.”
He jogs to catch up. “You do, though, and since I’m not home licking frosting off Ethan’s balls right now, it’s only fair you take me out for dessert.”
“Thanks for the visual, asshole.” I pick up my pace. “I don’t want to spend another minute with you. I want to get back to Aurora.”
“Viking.” His voice no longer carries a playful edge. His usual manic energy has dimmed, and his eyes have lost their teasing glint. “The plumber is still at the loft working on the toilet, and we need to talk. Choose a spot.”
I don’t argue for once. I just hope they recover the ring—preferably before I get home—so Aurora might let me stay. “Fine. There’s a coffee shop across the street.”
We walk in silence, place our orders, and find a small table in the corner of the café, away from others.
“Okay,” he begins. “I lied to you. We both know, at the time, I didn’t want you here. So, how do we move past this? Besides going on more dates together?” He smiles and takes a sip of sparkling water.
I draw a deep breath and try to explain. “I was pissed nobody told me. Why am I always the last one to find out everything? It felt deceptive—a total mindfuck.”
They call my name, and I head to the counter for my coffee. I return, remove the lid, and blow at the steam billowing from the top. “So, yeah, I tossed the ring, and she…” did not respond the way I thought she would.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t her telling me to go fuck myself and get an exorcism.
“She kicked you in the balls—metaphorically?” he finishes.
“Pretty much. And I was so mad at how right she was, I just kept running my mouth.”
He sucks air through his teeth with a hiss. “Yeah…been there, done that. You and I have a lot in common.”
“No.” My neck aches from all the head-shaking I’m doing. “I’ve heard you two argue. It’s not even close.”
“Dude—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Bro, you hold a grudge worse than anyone I know. You’re a hater for life.”
“I’m not your bro either.”
“Whatever. Are you going to talk or pick apart everything I say? Is that what got you into this mess?”
I sip my coffee, remembering I also punched the counter. Maybe I should shut up and listen. “Go on.” I raise my hand, signaling for him to continue.
“She didn’t deceive you. I covered all my bases—a domestic partnership agreement, a thirty-some-page marriage contract, vows. I made it as genuine and as binding as possible, then I spoiled her afterward. If anyone was deceitful here, it was me.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say in a flat tone. “Which is why I tossed your fake ring.”
He quirks a brow. “And how well did that work out for you?”
“I’m sitting here being tortured by you, aren’t I?”
He kicks his feet up onto the chair opposite him and leans back.
“Aurora and I were together for two years. I moved her in almost immediately, made promises I never kept. The whole time, she was probably waiting for a ring that never came because I was too wrapped up in my own bullshit. She doesn’t care the ring’s not a solid diamond.
To her, it’s a promise—everything she deserves, everything I owed her: loyalty, commitment, all my fucking love, my sobriety, financial stability, everything. She earned it.”
“Then at least give her a real ring.”
He points his bottle at me. “You give her a real ring if that’s your problem. Why does the tracker bother you anyway? Look what happened to your partner. Unless…” He narrows his eyes. “Are you planning to take her?”
“No,” I say without hesitation. “Aurora isn’t leaving you two. I’m not stupid—I don’t wanna wake up in the basement. The twins are psychotic. Dante cuts people up for fun, while Des watches with a Joker smile.”
“God, I love them,” he says wistfully, his shoulders slumping. “I want to see the basement.”
My lips curl into a slow smirk. “I’ll show you the basement.”
He perks up. “For real?”
I laugh. “No.”
“Why?” he whines.
I shrug and sip my coffee. “Ethan said no.”
His phone beeps, and he slips it from his jacket pocket. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters. “You good? Ready to go home?”