Chapter Twelve #2
“Jesse’s downstairs, and Knox had to finish something up in the office, so I’m alone.”
Bailey started to drive past the coffee shop, then pulled into the drive through behind an enormous truck. Might as well make the lie true. “So, spill.”
“It was hard,” Chloe confessed. “But we talked it through, and I think we’re in a good place.”
“They’re both on board with your decision?”
“Yeah, they are. They’re being really supportive. But…”
“But?” Bailey prompted.
“I can tell they’re struggling with it, especially Jesse.”
Bailey inched her car forward as the line moved. “With the decision to terminate?”
“No, I just think he’s just having a hard time getting a handle on all of it.”
“Well, it’s a lot.”
“I know. I think it might help him to talk to someone. Knox, too, but I’m less worried about him.”
“Therapy is always a good idea,” Bailey said. “Just make sure you find someone who’s pro-choice.”
“I was thinking more like someone who’s been through the process with their partner.”
There was a long pause before Bailey said, “Are you talking about Nash?”
“I know it’s not a completely parallel experience,” Chloe continued. “But you said he was great when you went through this.”
“He was,” Bailey said remembering. “But I thought you hated Nash.”
“He’s okay,” Chloe said, and had Bailey blinking in shock. “And I really think talking to someone who’s been there, done that, would help Jesse work through his feelings about it.”
There was a pause, then, “Would you ask him?”
“I… Yeah, if you want me to.”
“Are you sure? If it would be weird for you—”
“It wouldn’t,” Bailey assured her. But I accidentally masturbated myself to screaming orgasm in front of him last night and then fell asleep, and I was hoping to avoid him for, you know, ever. “Of course I’ll ask.
The blast of a horn behind jerked her out of her thoughts to see that the cars in front of her had moved up in the line. She lifted a hand in an acknowledging wave to the car behind her and eased forward.
“Thanks, Bails.”
“No problem. Um, how much do you want me to tell him?”
“Whatever you think he needs to know, I guess? I mean, I’m not ashamed.”
Good, Bailey thought.
“But I don’t want to be the poster girl for abortion in Braxton, either, so tell him to keep it zipped.”
“If he breathes a word, I will personally cut his dick off.”
“You don’t have to go that far,” Chloe said with a laugh. “But I think a solid kick in the balls would be appropriate.”
“Not as violent, but an acceptable alternative.”
“Okay, then. Can you talk to Nash first, see if he’s okay with it, before I talk to the guys?”
“Sure, but I probably won’t talk to him until after work,” Bailey warned.
“That’s fine. Jesse’s got material coming today for a new project and Knox is in meetings, so I won’t see them until late, anyway.”
“I’ll call you after I talk to him, then.”
“Thanks for this, Bails.”
“No problem.” The cars in front of her moved again, putting Bailey at the drive through window. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
And ending the call, Bailey lowered her window and ordered the largest, strongest cup of coffee she could.
* * * *
The day was long and almost hectically busy, for which Bailey was grateful. Not only did it mean her business was thriving, but it also left her little time to think about the things she didn’t want to think about.
She’d much rather be dealing with other people’s hair drama than her own suddenly messy life.
After the last satisfied client sailed out the door and the two stylists tasked with closing cleanup were sweeping and mopping, their cheerful chatter echoing in the nearly empty space, she sat down at the computer to handle the daily accounting.
It went quickly, unfortunately, and with no cash payments made during the day, she had no reason to go by the bank. Which meant there was nothing else to do but tell her stylists goodbye, get dutifully into her car, and head for home.
His car was in the drive when she got there, quashing any hopes she’d had for a reprieve. And when she walked in the front door, he was there, beer in hand and sprawled on the couch that was now back in its usual spot, her mattress nowhere to be seen.
“What happened to my bed?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.
“I moved it back upstairs,” he told her, thumbing the remote to pause whatever he was watching.
“Why?” she began, then paused. She could hear something, a low, quiet hum that had hope singing in her heart. But more, she could feel something.
Cool air.
“Oh, my God.” She dropped her purse with a thump, a gleeful grin spreading across her face. “They fixed it.”
“Finished about an hour ago,” he confirmed. “It’s still a little warm in here, but it’s working.”
“It’s glorious,” she enthused, hurrying over to the vent on the floor in front of the window. She stood over it, shivering with delight when her bare legs popped out in goosebumps. “Oh, thank God. I don’t think I could’ve taken another night.”
“Me, neither,” he drawled, and she froze.
He was smiling, just a slight curve of his mouth, his eyes dancing with humor, and a quick surge of relief weakened her knees.
He wasn’t going to make it a thing, and she should be grateful for that. So the twinge of disappointment that followed quickly on the heels of the relief confused her.
Shaking it off, she smirked. “Ha, ha.”
His smile deepened, making the dimple pop. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Jerk.”
“Hey, would a jerk have hauled your mattress upstairs all by himself?”
“The two things are not mutually exclusive.” The idea of him alone in her bedroom had nerves leaping in her belly. “You could’ve waited for me.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t too hard. It only took forty-five minutes.”
She wanted to say ha, ha again, but he probably wasn’t kidding. “Well, thanks.”
He lifted his beer in salute. “Anything for a friend.”
She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect segue. “Well, in that case, I have a favor to ask.”
He paused mid-sip, then slowly lowered the bottle. “Okay.”
“It’s not for me,” she explained, and since her legs were starting to get sincerely cold—joy! rapture!—left the vent to sit across from him. “It’s for Chloe.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think Chloe’s my friend. At least, that’s the impression I got.”
“Okay, then a favor for an acquaintance.”
Still watching her, nodded. “Okay.”
“She’s pregnant.” He waited, calmly watching, and she went on. “She’s terminating on Monday, in Ann Arbor.”
“Does she need a ride? Money?”
She shook her head. “No, Jesse and Knox are going with her, and they’ve got it covered.”
“Then what?”
“They’re kind having kind of a hard time with this. The boyfriends. Jesse in particular, but Knox, too.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “They don’t want her to terminate?”
“No, they’re fully supportive,” she assured him, and some of the tension in his body eased. “But they’re struggling with how to do that, exactly. And, well, this kind of thing can bring up some complicated emotions.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it can.”
“Chloe thought you might be able to help.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Me?”
“You’ve been there,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?” she asked when he trailed off.
“Chloe hates my guts.”
The bald statement made her grin. “She doesn’t hate them, but she would like to punch you in them. Repeatedly.”
“I’ve gotten that impression,” he said drily.
“But however much she loathes you—”
“Loathe. Good word.”
“—she loves Jesse and Knox,” she continued.
“She must, if she’s willing to ask me for help.”