"Ah, yes, your doodles. Must be nice to have time for a hobby," my mother says icily. I feel my stomach turn over and my fork clatters noisily to my plate. My mother ignores the noise and continues onward. "I've just been so busy organizing the Junior League here. We're having our annual New Year's ball coming up and it's been absolute chaos!" My mother grabs her chest as if in memory of the pain of the last months of planning. I try to keep my eyes from rolling. "We're raising money for the children's hospital. Ten thousand a plate and people just keep flaking out on us." She sighs dramatically and taps her perfectly manicured nails on her wine glass. It's bizarre seeing my mother have her nails done so well. For decades, our kitchen smelled like instant-dry nail polish as she tried to save money by doing it herself. I realize that she is now staring expectantly at Jax. "Jax, darling, do you think you will be able to make it this year?"
I look over in shock and surprise. Surely my mother isn't suggesting Jax can afford a ten-thousand-dollar donation to a charity? Then I realize I have no idea what Jax does for work. Probably just tags along at one of Lyle's six companies, I think bitterly.
"That would be lovely, Cassie," Jax replies formally. "I think I might be able to help you with several seats, actually, if I call some of my friends. It would be my honor and pleasure."
My jaw opens and a piece of pork falls out of it onto my plate. I wipe my chin hastily and see with relief that my mother hasn't noticed. "Sorry, Jax, what is it that you do?" This question comes out more forward than I want, but this is the most food I’ve been allowed to eat in months and I feel like my brain is returning to me.
Jax grins. "I own a technology company. We contract with the Department of Defense."
"Jax would tell you what projects they work on, but then he'd have to kill all of us," Lyle says, winking at me.
"Is that actually true?" I wonder out loud.
"Mostly," Jax says. "I could probably get away with just tying you up and torturing you." His eyes twinkle and his dimples reemerge. I drop my fork again at the possible double meaning. I blush and feel a wetness between my legs. I cross them hastily as if anyone at the table can see that I'm not wearing any panties. I pull the cardigan more tightly around my chest to cover up my nipples.
"Well, that would be quite an adventure!" My mother says, oblivious to the tension that has risen in this moment.
Lyle chews quietly and stares at the scene in front of him. He lowers his wine glass and clears his throat. "Are you bringing anyone home for Christmas this year, Jax?"
The abruptness of the question makes me wonder if Lyle senses the tension between me and Jax. "Just my usual, happy self," Jax replies drily.
My mother chimes in. "A handsome man like you? You must be beating women away from your front door!"
Jax grimaces and takes a long, deep drink of wine.
"Whatever happened to that nice girl you were dating a few months ago. What was her name? Ashley...Amber...Andi? Huh, I can't remember," Lyle says, staring daggers at Jax.
Jax doesn't answer. "Does it really matter the name, Dad? We're not together anymore. It's really not a problem."
My mother rubs her hands together. "You know, I'm sure I could set you up with someone from the club! There are so many lovely young women all looking to be with a man like you."
Jax smiles at me and I blush.
Lyle speaks again. "I'm only saying that it would be nice to see you settled down. And maybe if you had a child, that would tame your wild ways."
Jax's fork clatters to his plate. "I don't want kids," he says through gritted teeth. "I don't know how many times I have to say that to you, Dad, for you to finally drop-"
Just then, Ryan's cry rings out from the baby monitor. I know that it is just a brief, one-time ejaculation of sound (he cries out every night around this time), but I see it as an opportunity to excuse myself. I have cleaned my plate rapidly during the last few awkward minutes, and I know that my mother won’t have bothered with dessert. She hates sweets as a general rule because she thinks they cause obesity. "Well, I hate to eat and run," I say in what I hope is a convincing voice, pushing my chair back and standing up with the baby monitor in my hand as excuse.
"Oh, nonsense, you must be exhausted anyway," Lyle says nicely, standing up.
Jax rises as well. "I'm afraid I'm going to turn in early as well. Can I help with the dishes?"
My mother shakes her head, horrified. "Oh, of course not! We have help for that."
I say my goodnight to the room and walk quickly up the stairs, hoping I can get into my bedroom before Jax catches up with me. I'm a mixture of embarrassed, humiliated, and guilty. Embarrassed that he’s seen me naked, humiliated that I didn't think to cover myself up more quickly, and guilty for wishing he’d crossed the room in three steps and had his way with me.
I am nearly to the top step when I hear Jax’s shoes coming up behind me. He must have been taking the steps two at a time. He alights on the landing at almost the same moment I do. I spin around and face him, the food in my body emboldening me. "Suddenly you're mister social?" I say scornfully.
Jax looks amused at my spunkiness. "I just wanted to apologize for walking in on you earlier. That room is usually the one I stay in when I come to visit. I wasn't expecting anyone to be in there."
I feel my cheeks burning. "Well, knock next time," I spit at him, turning away and walking over to the door of my room. I close it quickly behind me, turning the lock on the handle and feeling my heart race.
I can't help but want Jax to look at me again the way he had earlier. Hungry. Starving. Restless.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TESSA
The next morning, I go downstairs to find that my mother is reading the newspaper. Her cook is bustling around, shining the bottoms of the expensive-looking copper pots. "Good morning," I say to the cook, a rosy-cheeked, plump man in his sixties.
"Ms. Tessa," he says, smiling at me. "Can I make you some eggs?"
I beam, jiggling Ryan up and down in my arms. "Yes, please. Scrambled."
"Toast or strudel? I have a fresh apple one coming out of the oven in about five minutes."
"Well, I can't very well say no to that, can I?" I walk over to the table. My mother has not looked up once since I walked into the room.
She eyes me now, wearing the clothes that were folded and waiting for me up in my room when I returned last night. "Still in your airplane clothes, I see," she says with more than a hint of disdain.
"Mom, I had a little luggage mix-up and my wardrobe is a little limited right now. Plus, I figure we won’t be going anywhere for the week,” I say.
She folds the paper, sighing with irritation. "Fine." Then she turns her smile on for Ryan. "Now this is the grand baby I know and love. None of that crying nonsense from yesterday!" She reaches out and grabs his body. I am relieved to have his weight out of my arms. She bounces Ryan on her knee. He reaches out and tries to grab her steaming mug of coffee. I whip it out of his reach, nearly spilling it over the pristine, white tablecloth.
I pour myself my own coffee out of the French press that sits, silver and gleaming, in the middle of the table. "Plans today, Mother?"
She looks over at me. "Well, I do have a luncheon this afternoon that I was going to invite you to, but not if what you're wearing right now is any hint as to the rest of what you packed."
I feel relief cascade over my body. I obviously didn’t mean to pack this way, but if it saves me from going to a mind-numbing, ass-kissing society lunch with my mother then I consider my wardrobe a win. "Looks like I'm staying here, then," I say brightly, sipping my coffee. It’s the best tasting brew I've ever had in my life. Rich, full-bodied and somehow creamy even though I've added nothing to it. I suddenly see a rare opportunity to manipulate my mother in a way that benefits me. "Me and Ryan will just be here all day. He hates being away from me."
My mother is cooing at him when I say these words. She looks up hastily. "Nonsense! The reason I RSVP'd was specifically so I coul
d show off my grandson. Can't you send along some extra formula or something?"
I feel a rare win coming for me. If I’d suggested for her to go on an outing with the baby solo, she would have balked. This way it seems like her idea. Manipulation for my own benefit. I have a hard time feeling guilty about it considering how she usually treats me. "Well, if you think he'll be okay, I can probably find something to do around here. And then I can be here when Paul arrives." Paul had texted me overnight saying that his flight would land at around two o'clock California time. I haven’t replied to him. I'm still seething.
My mother beams. "Well, it's settled then. I can get Ryan into one of the cashmere outfits I bought just for this occasion, you can fill up his diaper bag for me, and we can be off for our day of fun!" My mother looks positively gleeful. I know that Ryan will be the model baby she expects him to always be. He’s had a full, restful night of sleep.
The cook brings over a steaming plate of perfectly whipped scrambled eggs and a golden-brown, crackling slice of apple strudel. "Orange juice?" he asks.
"No, thanks, I'm good with coffee," I reply.
My mother stands up from the table. "I need to go get us both ready to leave then!" Ryan claps his hands and giggles. I pinch his leg lightly and blow him a kiss.
When they are gone, I dive headfirst into my breakfast. It is beyond delicious. "This is the best breakfast I've ever had in my life- uh," I suddenly realize I have no idea what the cook's name is.
"Richard," he says. "You can call me Richard."
"Richard, thank you. Dinner was also delicious last night. I haven't eaten that well in a really, really long time."
Richard smiles at me as he scrubs the cast-iron skillet. "A mother should always be well fed if I have any say in the matter. You're here for the next week, right? You won't go hungry; I can promise you that."
I finish up my plate and look over at Richard guiltily. "Is there any way I could possibly-" Before the words are out of my mouth, Richard produces a second plate of eggs and more strudel.
"I had a good feeling you'd want more," he says.
I stammer out a thank you. As I pick up my fork once more, Jax appears in the kitchen. "Morning, Richard," he says with a smile. "Tessa." He has a wry smile on his face that makes me want to punch him and jump his bones at the same time. "Eggs benedict and dry toast please," Jax says to Richard. Newspaper pages crinkle as he lifts up the financial section.
I chew as quietly as I can and stare out the bay corner window that wraps around the dining nook. A man of about twenty is using a net to skim debris out of the swimming pool. My body is aching to get out into the sunshine for a quiet, baby-free day. I don't have a swimsuit, but I really just want to lay down at the pool.
I steal a glance at Jax, who is buried in the article he’s reading. I open my mouth to say something but my phone buzzes in my sweatpants pocket. I put down my fork, swallowing the bite of eggs quickly. I glance at my phone. It's Paul. I told him not to call me until he was standing on California tarmac. He never listens. "What?" I hear myself snap. It isn't like me to do this. I blame the food again for making me stand up for myself.
There is a loud noise in the background as Paul struggles to make his voice heard. I can't make out a word of what he is saying.
"Sorry, honey, I can't hear you!" I yell into the phone. I shove my finger in my ear absurdly as if the gentle sound of turning newsprint pages and the quiet simmer of poaching eggs on my end is the problem. I feel Jax's eyes on me as I stand up and walk to the other side of the kitchen. The noise on the phone dies down as Paul shuts a door.
"Hey, babe," Paul says. "How is...California?"
Alarms go off in my head. Paul has never, ever in our ten-year, on again, off again relationship called me 'babe.' "Um, fine," I reply. "My mother is being my mother, but she's taking Ryan to a luncheon for most of the day, so I'm just here finishing up breakfast."
"Alone?" he asks.
"Um, no, Jax is here. And Richard," I add. I glance behind me and see that Jax has been staring at my back. He doesn’t look away when I catch him doing it.
"Sorry you're trapped in the house with that asshole," Paul says to me. "And who the hell is Richard?"
"The cook," I reply. Paul doesn't respond for so long that I have to ask him if he is still there.
"Yeah, I'm here," he replies. "Um, listen Tessa, I have some bad news. I'm not going to be able to make it out to your parents' place."
At that moment I experience, simultaneously, two incredibly different emotions. One is anger and one is an inexplicable feeling of relief. Both are replaced at once by suspicion and intense confusion. "And why not?"
Paul pauses again. I suddenly realize the noise from earlier is loud music in the background of wherever he is. "Work," he replies simply. "They need some of us to stay over the holiday weekend and work."
I've always said that the best part of being a woman over the age of twenty is that I know when I'm being lied to. Normally I wouldn't confront Paul, but somehow having Jax eavesdropping is emboldening me. "Work, huh?"
I hear the music get louder; the squeak of a door comes over the phone. A woman's voice calls out. "Paul, come on! You're missing it!" Then she laughs. I hear the crinkling noise of soft fabric over the mouthpiece. He does a terrible job covering up the mouthpiece. "I'm on the phone with Tessa!" he hisses.
My heart is pounding and my vision is blurring. "PAUL!" I yell into the phone. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"
That gets his attention. "I'm - we're - out with work. It's a work lunch."
I look at the kitchen clock. "Work lunch? It's 10 AM your time. Who the fuck is that you were talking to?" Tears are stinging my eyes and I can feel the hot burn of Jax's gaze through my back. I hate causing a scene, but here I am doing just that in front of two near-strangers. One of whom I have imagined naked more times that I want to admit. One of whom I’ve seen naked, in real life.
"I - Tessa, listen, when you get back, we have some things we need to talk about -"
I interrupt him. "When I get back? When I get back? You mean when I come home with our son?" My body is shaking, and my full stomach is emboldening me. "You know what, Paul? Fuck off." I hang up the phone.
I stand facing the wall of the kitchen, hearing the scraping of metal utensils against a plate, Richard's heavy footsteps, and then the dull thud of china being placed upon the tablecloth. Jax's breakfast is served. I keep waiting for more tears to sting at my eyes, but they never come. I turn around and walk back to the table, sitting down and placing my cloth napkin back over my lap. The newspaper is closed on the table and Jax is chewing his breakfast slowly. "Everything okay?" he asks, not looking at me.
I take a deep breath. "Paul isn't going to be able to make it out this week after all," I reply as evenly as I can. "Work commitment." I keep hearing that woman's voice in my head. I try to identify it. It sort of sounds like his assistant, but not really. I'm probably being paranoid. No. I know that isn't true. But what proof do I have other than that phone call and Paul's general behavior?
"Mm," Jax mumbles. "Too bad." I see something like contempt flash across his face.
I set my fork down. "I'm sorry, do you have something to say?"
Jax holds up his hands in defense. "No, of course not." I go back to eating, angrily spearing a piece of egg onto my fork and shoving it into my mouth. Jax speaks anyway. "It's just that-well. I'm not really surprised that he isn't coming."
I nearly choke. I swallow some of my now-lukewarm coffee to clear my throat. "Is there something else you'd care to share with the class?" I ask him.
He opens his mouth to speak but my mother has returned, Ryan in tow. We both look over at her. "Ta-dah!" she announces. I gape. She and Ryan are wearing coordinating outfits. She has on a cashmere twinset of a pale baby blue with a khaki pencil skirt. My baby is wearing a miniature version of that same sweater with khaki pants and brown, lace-up shoes. He would look like an old man were it not for the matching cashmere bonnet th
at is tied under his chin. "So, what do you think?" she asks, twirling around. Ryan looks confused but not unhappy.
"It's...great," I reply. "You look great, Mother. Both of you."
I can tell that Jax is attempting to hold back a smile. "Cassie, you are simply radiant. Those harpies at the club won't know what hit them when you two show up."
My mother positively and predictably glows at this compliment. Flattery will get a person everywhere when it comes to my mother. "Well, we need to hit the road."
"Wait, you need the diaper bag and his food," I say.
My mother holds up her hand to stop me from standing. "I had Susan gather everything up. Don't worry, we’ll be fine."
I shrug. "Well, have fun. You have my cell number if anything goes wrong?"
My mother waves away my concerns. "I raised you just fine, Tessa, don't be silly. Enjoy your day and we will enjoy ours." She taps Ryan's nose with her pointer finger and he laughs. I stand up and kiss him on the head, a white-hot knife of guilt slicing through me as I remember that his father won't be coming after all. "You have fun, Tubbs," I say to him, using the nickname I’d invented to describe his delicious rolls.
My mother turns to face Jax. "Won't you come with me and the baby and leave Tessa here to whatever she plans on doing today? Assuming you change first, of course." My mother's eyes flick disapprovingly toward Jax’s tattoos.
For some reason, I feel my stomach swoop in disappointment at this proposition. I hastily look over at Jax, his dark hair piled on top of his head and his muscles bulging out through his grey t-shirt.
"I have work to do, Cassie," he says, his words sending a jolt of excitement through me once again.
My mother looks crushed. "Really? Over the holiday and everything?" she asks him.
He nods solemnly. "An entrepreneur's work is never done."
She nods back and pinches his cheek in a motherly way. "Like father like son."
Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance Page 8