Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Franky
It was going to be hard to stay away from Jason.
Not that I had to stay away from him. After all, we were both adults and any time we spent together could be done in an adult fashion (not that kind of adult). Jason had every right to be involved, which was the only reason I had agreed to meet with him in Adeline’s childhood bedroom.
Only now, I wasn’t so sure. For a start, there was a bed. Expected for a bedroom, but not helpful when I needed to be looking at Jason as the father of my child and nothing else.
Not as sexy.
Not as attractive.
Not as possessed of amazing forearms and even more stellar thighs.
We should meet for coffee—well, coffee for him and tea for me—in a public place or at a doctor’s office for my first major appointment.
The initial one tomorrow was a confirmation of pregnancy with my GP, but I would have to see a gynecologist in a couple of months for a more complete checkup.
Jason could come with me. If he wanted to.
Where was he? I couldn’t hang around here for much longer. It looked suspicious.
The door opened, and in he came, but he didn’t look too pleased about it.
“What’s happened?”
He closed the door behind him and blew out a breath. “Conor.”
“Is everything okay?”
“He’s suspicious of us. Or why we’re talking to each other.”
“Okay.” Conor was the least of my problems.
Jason took a seat on the bed beside me, still visibly on edge. “And my dad’s a jerk.”
Ah, that made more sense. “Generally or specifically?”
“Generally. But tonight he sent a picture of his family, so specifically, I guess.”
“Can I see?”
He opened his phone and handed it to me.
“They’re cute. How well do you know them?”
“Theo knows them better, but now that I’m back in Chicago, I’ve been hanging out with them more. I would just rather not see my father.”
“Must be tough. But the boys are probably so proud to have a famous hockey player for a brother. Well, two. And nephews as well, though it must be odd for them to be uncles to nephews so much older than them.” The Kershaw family tree was complicated.
“You remember what it was like when you first met Theo.”
“I just wanted him to like me.”
“Your little brothers want that as well.” I rubbed his arm, his strong, unyielding bicep. “How about your dad’s wife? Do you get along with her?”
“She made a pass at me once at a Christmas cocktail party.”
I took another look at the photo. “Slutty nurse seems eminently suitable.”
His shoulders started to shake.
“Jason?”
He turned, his mouth stretched in a grin. “You’re funnier than you look, Doc.”
“Better than looking funny, I suppose. So, tell me why this bothers you so much?”
“I dunno. I feel like he’s shoving his new, improved family in our faces. He fucked over Theo, left my mom on the hook for raising me and Sean, and he’s probably planning his exit strategy from this lot.”
“If that’s the case, then your duty is to your brothers. You know that nothing he does has to affect you.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
I took a breath. “It took me a while to figure it out. My mom married my dad because she thought being the wife of a pro-athlete would be glamorous and her road to fame. She wanted to be a WAG, maybe even launch her own reality show. But she married an alcoholic, and her daughters—one of her daughters—didn’t match the image she wanted to project.
I wasn’t pretty or girly or into make-up.
I liked ugly, slimy things like slugs and snails, and I wore glasses and was allergic to everything. ”
He blinked. “You were? Are you still?”
“I’ve grown out of most allergies, but I still have an issue with nuts. I carry an EpiPen with me at all times. Two, actually.”
“And that’s okay during pregnancy?”
I smiled. “Yes, it is.”
I could see him filing that information away. Jason Isner was becoming easier to read. “Good. Go on.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that our parents have an impact, especially when we’re younger, but eventually we have to let go of the resentments.
I know that’s easier said than done, especially when you feel wronged by someone.
But your life is good, Jason. You have a great family, an amazing career, a child on the way.
The one blot on it is your father. Don’t let that dull the shine of the rest.”
“Such wisdom.”
“It’s what Wednesday would tell you. Well, she’d probably recommend some macabre revenge plot first.”
He pulled at one of my braids. “You look cute. Sexy, too.”
“Jason.”
“What? Don’t pretend you weren’t feeling up my chef’s arm in the guise of comforting me.”
This guy was unbelievable.
And unfortunately correct.
“So what if I was? I can kill two birds, comfort with a quick feel-up. I’m multi-talented.”
“Yeah, you are.” He stroked my cheek. “And you’re so freakin’ hot in your slutty librarian glasses. And that mouth—Christ, the things I want to do to that mouth.”
My pulse was unsafely high, myocardial infarction-levels of peril. Slutty librarian glasses? Was that a thing?
“L-like what?”
“Like this.”
He didn’t hesitate in touching his lips to mine. It was as if he’d been waiting for an invitation. For me to drop that last brick in the wall and let him in.
I had wanted him to kiss me in that Detroit hotel room. Earlier than that, actually, at Tilly’s birthday party. I didn’t believe in manifesting things, but my body language was clearly reflecting my desires.
His lips tugged at mine, then a slight pause to give me a moment to resist—not a chance of that happening!
—before he took control. The kiss was divine, stars bursting, thunder rolling, and then he gave my braid another tug.
That should not have been sexy, but his mouth on mine and everything about him was overwhelming and arousing.
Plus, we were on a bed, of which he took full advantage.
I should not have agreed to meet him here. But this kiss was so good, as was the weight of him over my body. Then he raised the sensual stakes as his hand wandered under my pleated skirt and foraged a while.
He drew back. “These tights are pissing me off.”
“That’s the idea.” The break in the proceedings came with a cold rush of common sense. I sat up, pushing his hand away. “I’m not making out with you in your niece’s bedroom at a Halloween party.”
“News flash: you just did. Plus, I’m upset and sex would make me feel better.”
Graduated to sex rather quickly, there. “I won’t be having sex with you ever again.”
The saddest sentence ever uttered.
He snorted. “Got what you wanted, huh?”
“Jason, we’re not in a relationship. At least, not that way. Messing about with each other is just confusing.”
“So I can have sex with anyone else?”
“Of course.” I despised that idea with the hatred Tesla held for Edison. But I wasn’t prepared to give in here, so it was unfair to ask him to be celibate. “We’re not a couple. You can do whatever you want, and so can I.”
“So you’re going to have sex with someone else?”
Feeling miserable at the notion, I still needed to chase this to its logical, feminist conclusion. “If I want to.”
He stood and paced for a few seconds before facing me, hands on hips. “But if we want sex, then why not with each other?”
“Because, Jason,” I started, feeling like I was explaining to my students that the deadline for the paper was 5pm, not the morning after, “that’s what couples do, and we are not a couple. Are you worried that I’ll be bothered by you with someone else? I won’t.”
Liar, liar, braids on fire.
“No?”
“Like I said. Not a couple.”
His incredulity was a living thing, showcased in flashing eyes and a mouth that clearly wanted to bite my head off, or dare I hope, kiss me again. Angrily.
“This is bullshit. Was the sex not good?”
“Of course it was. It’s like pizza. Even bad pizza is decent.”
“What the fuck has pizza got to do with it?”
“Just the analogy with pizza is apt. Even bad sex is decent because you’re getting some.”
He stared at me, his eyes cold and hard. “I have no idea if you thought it was good or not.”
I stood and placed my hands on his chest, not one of my better ideas. But I was committed to my principles now and apparently, touching him would help get my point across.
“It was good, Jason. And it had the desired result. A baby. Now I’m giving you permission to return to normal programming.”
Though it made me ill. Better to draw the line now before we became too close.
“So speaks the professor, the woman of logic,” he said bitterly, before walking out.