“Whoa. Hey, guys,” Jackson says, pulling me to his side again. “Let’s let her walk in the door before we accost her.”
“Sorry, dear. We’re so excited.” Jean’s smile is glossy red from her lipstick.
“You both look great. I should’ve dressed better.” I gesture to my casual summer dress and flat shoes.
“Nonsense. Come in!” Jean gestures to us, and Jackson shoots me an apologetic look like he has no idea what has gotten into them.
Dinner is on the table, a curl of steam coming from a casserole dish.
“Looks like they played it safe and went with lasagna and garlic bread,” Jax murmurs into my ear. I lean into him as his sister, Julieann, rounds the corner.
She blinks at me and purses her lips, an expression of indecision on her pretty face. They’re obviously not identical twins, but she bears a striking resemblance to Jax with her dark hair and striking blue eyes.
“Jules, you remember Allie.”
I stiffen.
“I do.” She’s struggling to remain polite, or at least that’s how it seems to me.
Julieann has an almost gruff, masculine sort of energy, which doesn’t detract from her appeal. She’s always been that way—made of tougher stuff than most women I know. There’s not a diva part about her, but she manages to appear feminine. Especially today in a low-cut royal-blue top that makes her eyes bright, and fuchsia lipstick that’s as bold as her attitude.
“How are you?” she asks evenly.
“Better,” I answer, and let that one word stand for itself. When I first arrived in Ohio I was a wreck. My career was in shambles, my ex-boyfriend proved he was a traitor, and I had no one to lean on. The first two issues haven’t gone anywhere, but I have someone to lean on now and it’s Jax.
“I was about to pour myself a glass of wine. Can I get one for you?” she asks. The conversation feels strained, but I’m not going to balk.
“Please.”
“Jax?”
“I’ll grab myself a beer. Mini, take a seat at the table. Wherever Mom puts you.” Jax kisses me lightly and when he pulls away, I notice that Julieann notices and isn’t sure what to think of that, either.
* * *
—
Dinner was delicious if not painfully polite. There was one awkward moment when Jean and Joe mentioned they’d started watching America’s Sweetheart, waiting for my first full episode. I went from a casual walk-on to a main character, so by episode five, they brought me in in a big way by giving me my first sex scene. Mind you, this is network TV, so I wasn’t nude. But it was a hot and heavy make-out sesh with fellow actor Lex Brewster. He’s amazing. Also: gay. But a great kisser, so his boyfriend’s a lucky guy.
Anyway, the moment Jean realized she was talking about my on-screen love scene over dinner, her face went a bright shade of pink and Joe’s quickly followed. Not the crass sort, those two. Joe awkwardly changed the subject to ask Jax how the deck was going at my parents’ house. Jax answered in a purposefully long-winded way, with more details than any of us needed.
Now we’ve been told to “retire” to the TV room, where they’ll bring out dessert.
“I made a soufflé,” Jean promises. Joe offers to help, leaving Jax, Julieann, and me to await our dessert.
“Has she ever made a soufflé?” Julieann asks Jax under her breath.
“Not that I know of. I’m not sure I know what that is.”
“It’s a rich French egg dish that’s almost impossible to keep from falling flat in the oven,” I answer. We’re sitting side by side on the couch and he takes my hand, lifts it, and kisses my fingers.
“Hopefully it isn’t as bad as her attempt at our birthday cake,” he tells Julieann.
His sister watches him before subtly lifting one eyebrow. Jax dips his head in an almost imperceptible nod. They’re doing that weird telepathic twin thing where they don’t speak. I shift in my seat, wondering what conclusion they’ve come to about me.
“How long are you in Ohio, Allie?” Julieann asks.
“Not sure. Until my next audition or the next party I’m required to attend.”
“Rough life.”
Jax clears his throat and Julieann flashes him a dark look. “I’d love a coffee. Allie?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah, sure.”
“Jax.” Julieann tilts her head.
“Sure. I’ll take one.”
“You make the best coffee.” She grins and it’s pure Disney villainess.
Despite the banal topic, this seems to be a standoff of sorts. After a moment, Jax leans over and murmurs he’ll be right back. He follows with “Okay?” like I might beg him to stay in the room and protect me from his sister. I don’t. She doesn’t scare me.
Once he’s gone, Julieann leans back on the chair she’s sitting in and folds her hands on her lap like Dr. Evil.
“What are you doing with him, Allison? If you think you can come back here and play with his heart and then go home like nothing happened—”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist,” she warns. “I know him. I know how he felt about you and I know how wrecked he was when you two split.”
“He’s not twenty anymore, Jules. Neither of us is.”
“He’s a good guy. You’re contented with shallow pretty boys now, so why not stick with the Xavier McCormacks of the world? What could you possibly want with Jax?”
Shocked, my hackles rise and I’m either unable or unwilling to keep from defending myself. Typically, I’m good at being coy. Just not right now.
“You think it didn’t wreck me when we split? I was a mess. I didn’t date for a year afterward. What Jax and I had wasn’t easy to forget.” I stop short of telling her the rest. That when I returned here and found him in my parents’ house, not only wasn’t it easy to forget but it crashed into me in vivid full color.
Jax.
Us.
Everything.
And now that sex is in the mix—and after spending the last few nights together, I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk away unscathed this time, either.
“I don’t know how you were, no,” she answers. “I only know how he was. Angry and bitter. He didn’t wait a year, by the way. He didn’t wait long before he had sex with someone else.”
I gasp, unable to hide my shock. It wasn’t only rude, her comment; it stung like rubbing alcohol to a fresh cut.
“Jules.” Jax enters the room with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand, his tone lethal. “What the hell?”
“She should know,” she tells him. “She should know how you felt when you split.”
“That’s up to me to tell her.”
“You’re not going to tell her!” Jules bursts out of the chair, her fists balled.
With an outstretched arm, he offers her a cup of coffee, and after a silent debate she takes it. He hands mine down to me and I hold it, the liquid wobbling from the shake in my arms.
“We’re getting there,” he tells his sister. “And this is too far in for you to put a stop to, so you may as well quit trying.”
Julieann absorbs that news like a blow. Her shoulders roll forward and her eyes shut briefly before opening and landing on me. I don’t know why, but I’m hit with a sudden blast of compassion. She loves Jax and is trying to protect him.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” I tell her softly. “But you don’t understand where I’m coming from. Not really. Jax knows I’m going back to California like I know he’ll stay here. But we can’t let this time pass us by and not be with each other. Even if it doesn’t amount to more than feelings we can’t make last.”
Jax and I exchange glances, his mouth a grim line of acceptance.
With a sigh of defeat, Julieann sits down. She screws her eye
s up to her brother’s and mutters in defeat, “Okay.”
Jax doesn’t say anything verbally, but he must send her one of those telepathic messages because Julieann nods in response.
“Soufflé!” Jean announces, stepping into the room with a dessert that definitely collapsed in the oven.
“It’s chocolate,” Joe announces proudly, bowls and spoons in hand.
The tension in the room is so thick that Jean notices but mistakes it for something else. “You do eat chocolate, don’t you, Allie?”
“I love chocolate,” I bleat in support.
“What a relief.” She deposits the tray onto the coffee table in front of me.
Julieann sends me a look I can’t read. It’s either gratitude for being kind to her mother or suspicion over what I’m doing with her brother.
Could be both. It’s hard to say with her.
Chapter 21
Later that evening I’m in Jackson’s bed, my head on his shoulder. His arm’s linked around my neck while he idly plays with my hair. We came back here after dessert/coffee at his parents’ house. Believe it or not the remainder of the evening with his family wasn’t as awkward as the majority that preceded it. Julieann returned to her joking, casual self, and she and I attempted and succeeded at a mild-mannered conversation about shoes and purses.
Feeling brave, I asked her if she was seeing anyone, and she told me “not anymore.” I offered to set her up with one of the hunks in L.A. I frequently come across and then she laughed in that husky, likable way she has and quipped, “None of them could handle me.”
Thing is, she’s right.
“Do you know what Julieann needs?” Jax’s bedroom is dark, but I can make out his profile in the moonlight.
“I’m afraid to ask.” His low voice reverberates off my ribs where I’m pressed against him.
“A guy who’s not nice.” He grunts in what might be an amused laugh. “Hear me out. I’m not saying she needs a mean guy, but she could use a guy who’s not a gentleman. If she’s dating nice guys I bet she’s eating them for dinner.”
“And breakfast,” he confirms.
I knew it.
“She needs someone crazy confident. A guy who’s manly enough to bring out her feminine side.”
“Jules has a feminine side?”
“Of course she does. She’s a woman. A beautiful one. She hasn’t found anyone to challenge her yet, that’s all. I was kidding about setting her up with a Hollywood guy. For the most part they’re very fragile. Their egos are like eggshells. Or spun glass. Spun glass eggshells.”
I expect a laugh in response, but instead he asks, “What are you doing with me, Allie?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking that rhetorically or seriously.
“You mean because you’re not made of spun glass?”
He shifts on the bed, jostling me slightly. “You stated pretty plainly tonight that we won’t last. If I was spun glass that would’ve been the end of me.”
“Oh, that.” I bite my lip in consideration. “I guess we’ve never said that out loud. Talked about The End.”
“Why should we?” He fiddles with my hair again. He’s not conflicted or worried or wounded. Definitely not spun glass.
“Well…I didn’t know if we should define it, since you’ll probably want to call Kim again after I leave.”
His chuckle is light and I relax some. “Kim is actually very nice. And she wants me. Or she did before I left her in the parking lot after she invited me home with her.”
Cringe.
“Did you kiss her?” I can’t help myself.
“She kissed me.”
“Well, you let her,” I grumble.
“Like I said, she was nice and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But I couldn’t go home with her after seeing you so upset. How sad you were. How hurt you were.”
“Not my finest moment.”
“It was jarring to hear you say you were happy to see me.”
“I was. Am,” I correct. I rest my head on Jax’s chest and sigh. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed someone who knows me after the people in my life turned on me. Then there you were. Like some sort of…fate.”
It’s too big of a word. Too dangerous of a word. But I went with it because it feels right. True.
He palms my hair and rubs my scalp with his fingertips.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I whisper. Unable to let the conversation go, I add, “So, should we plan on going until we don’t go any longer?”
“Or until you find someone else you want more than me,” he answers.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue that it would never happen. I’ve never wanted anyone more than Jax. We didn’t work out for a couple of lame reasons—not the least of which is how many states on the map lie between the two we live in.
“Don’t say that,” I warn rather than promise. It’s an ugly thought, us being far apart again.
“We’re not the same as we used to be,” he says in the dark.
“But we’re more than friendly.”
“Way more,” he agrees.
I’m not sure what we’ve decided but I don’t care. Not about anything apart from what we have—no matter how long it lasts.
* * *
—
“You’re sure about this?” I ask Jackson for the eighth time as we pull to the curb on the edge of the street. We’re at Vent, a coffeehouse, under the guise of a double date thanks (or no thanks) to my agent. The outcome remains to be seen.
“Mini.” He throws the truck into park and gives me an impatient look. “We’re already here. What do you want to do? Turn around and leave?”
“Kind of?” I scrunch my face.
“Okay.” He begins to reverse and I stop him.
“Wait. No. Let’s get it over with. I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”
He doesn’t look at me when a smile slides over his face, but I can guess he knew I was going to change my mind.
Meredith called yesterday talking ninety miles a minute thanks to too much espresso and her excitement over “this fab idea” she had. I guess one of her friends from OSU—my agent is an alum—owns this lovely establishment.
Mer had this idea to plant a professional photographer and make sure we had a really juicy “Jax and Nina moment” to share with the public. I was hesitant, but then she reminded me that she’s actively looking for my next role, and that most likely Xavier isn’t going to be the key to landing that next role, so I agreed. Only then did she pepper me with her other idea: a reconciliation of sorts between Xavier and me. I didn’t have a chance to argue before she signed off with a “love you, mean it, bye!” I still haven’t digested that part of the conversation.
“Thanks, Jax.”
“You’re welcome, sweets.” My date winks and then opens the door for me. I feel a zip of energy at the wink and the gesture. The coffeehouse is absolutely gorgeous. Exposed brick walls and metal overhead lights are interspersed with wooden benches both rough and smooth with age. Plush couches and chairs are huddled on one side in front of a stage where there’s a stool and a microphone stand, but no one is performing yet. Soft piped-in music plays from unseen speakers.
“Are they here?” I ask of the other couple who’s supposed to join us.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Jax’s hand warms my lower back. “Let’s grab a coffee.”
We order—a frothy, sugary concoction for me, a regular coffee with steamed milk for him, and then we step to the side to wait for our drinks. The place is fairly full, with people taking up the couches and most of the seats near the stage. There are a few open tables with chairs beside the coffee bar and toward the back. Likely no one wants those seats, since they won’t be able to see the stage. Perfect for Jax and me since we’re supposed
to be hiding out, or so my agent says is my “motivation” for this role. She wanted cozy and to her credit, cozy is exactly what this evening feels like.
“I wonder if that’s the photographer,” I whisper to Jax as a young guy with piercings and tattoos walks in carrying a small canvas bag.
“Why don’t you not worry about it?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious.” With our coffee cups, he points to one of the three unoccupied tables in the back. I sit on the padded bench, complete with cushy pillows.
“We’re on a date.” He moves to the bench next to me and sits, handing me my coffee. “So act like it.”
I feel almost shy (odd, after all we’ve done together) snuggling him in public, maybe because of his reaction after the picnic kiss. But this is different—back then we hadn’t been together. Now we’ve been together over and over. He’s not unsure anymore. I tip my chin and kiss him. He returns it, lingering for a second.
His phone buzzes at the same time, and he lifts it to his ear. “Yeah. To the left of the door.” Then he pockets the phone. “They’re here.”
“Cool,” I say, but I’m nervous for some reason. Meeting someone new, maybe? Or meeting a reporter. That could be it.
The door swings aside and a woman with long dark brown hair walks in. She’s wearing a slim skirt and silk blouse, her heels high and expensive, her lips full and lush. She spots us and then turns to say something to the guy with her. The guy, I know. Barrett Fox, former bad boy/currently tamed ex-NFL player. His hair is coppery and his smile hints that he’s up to no good. Which means the beautiful woman at his side is Catarina.
“Hey, Burke.” She addresses Jax and he stands to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Kitty Cat. Meet the Nina Lockhart, known better in this town as Allison Murphy.”
“Hi.” I offer a hand and Catarina sizes me up.
“Nina or Allison? Which do you prefer? I prefer Catarina but these two bozos call me Kitty Cat and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Her smile is stiff and all-business.
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