I head into the kitchen and pull out a workbook of letters and a pencil. Siggy not only supplied toys and games for Rosie but she also gave her these pre-Kindergarten workbooks that she loves. I’m so grateful for Siggy because I would’ve been out of my depths more than I could’ve predicted.
When I sit with Rosie, her eyes are full of excitement. She takes the pencil from my hand, making me so very thankful. She’s happy.
I stroke a lock of hair out of her eyes and try to take a second before I switch gears.
Her widow’s peak is the same as mine, as are her eyebrows and how gently they arch over her hazel eyes. I wonder if Nettie ever thought about me when she looked at her.
“What do I do first?” Rosie asks, opening the book.
“First, let’s trace the letter a. Can you do that?” I ask.
She bites down, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, and gets to work.
“This is an a,” she says, moving the pencil around the broken lines forming the letter. “Do I have an a in my name?”
“You don’t,” I tell her. “Your name is Penelope Rose Woods.”
A warmth pours over me as I think about Nettie naming Rosie’s first name is Penelope.
“Do you have an a?” Rosie asks.
“In Jacqueline.” I tap her on the nose, making her giggle. “My name is Jacqueline Penelope Thorpe.”
“Penelope like me!”
I grin. “Just like you.”
“And what about Boone?”
“He has an a in his last name,” I say because I don’t know his middle name.
“But what’s name? What’s his whole name?”
“Boone Mason. I’m not sure what his middle name is.”
“Oh.” She sticks her tongue out as she moves to the line of lowercase letters. “Why isn’t his name the same as your name?”
“Because we aren’t married.”
I make a face. It’s as though the universe is screwing with me.
“But why don’t me and you have the same last name?” she asks.
“Because we have different daddies.”
“Oh.”
I sit back in my chair and give up. I let the ball of anxiety add to itself.
What day will she realize that she will never know another Woods? Will she have that sense of not belonging anywhere like I did?
Is it my fault if she does?
That idea was planted into my head as a little girl, and it affected me more than I ever knew.
I craved wanting to belong. I was so envious of other people who could trace back their family history for generations and could walk into a basketball game and see five people from their family in the stands. “Oh, that’s my Grandma Smith,” someone could say.
I didn’t have a grandma, let alone a fellow Thorpe.
It’s why I left home with Shawn. I wanted to create a place I belonged, no matter how unhealthy it was.
I won’t let that happen to you, baby girl.
The doorbell sounds, ringing through the house, and Rosie’s eyes light up.
“Maybe it’s Wade!” she shrieks and starts to climb down the chair.
I laugh, helping her to the floor. “I don’t think it’s Wade.”
She lands and races to the foyer without missing a beat.
“We don’t answer the door without an adult,” I remind her.
She drops her hand quickly. “No touching.”
“No touching,” I repeat. “That’s right.”
I peer through the peephole and see Siggy.
“Hey,” I say, pulling it open.
“Iggy!” Rosie screeches. “Hi, Iggy!”
Siggy laughs. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you ready to go?”
She stands on the porch in a pair of jeans that are inherently trendier than anything I own and a navy-blue blouse with giant white flowers that makes her look effortlessly beautiful. A necklace with a light pink circle hangs on her tanned skin.
I blow out a breath. She’s a vision of put-togetherness, and I’m a hot mess.
“I forgot she was going with you today,” I tell her, grabbing Rosie before she makes a break for it. “I’m so sorry. Can you give me a second to get her shoes on her?”
“Of course. I’m in no hurry.”
“Thank you.”
Siggy steps inside as I hoist Rosie on my hip. I grab her shoes and carry them with us to the kitchen.
“Am I going with Iggy?” Rosie asks as I put her shoes on her feet.
“Do you want to?” I ask.
“Yes!”
Siggy ruffles her hair. “We’re going to Bellamy’s to play with Bree. Does that sound fun?”
“Yes!”
She climbs off the chair and takes Siggy’s hand. “I’m ready, Iggy.”
Siggy grins and looks at me. “I love that she calls me that.”
“It’s pretty cute.”
I follow them to the door.
“Can you go to the potty before we get in the car please, Rosie?” Siggy asks her.
“I don’t need to go potty, Iggy.” She furrows her little brow.
So serious. So, so cute.
“Why don’t you try?” I ask. “And we’ll wait right here.”
Siggy smiles at Rosie. “Yes, I’ll be right here. I promise.”
“Okay,” Rosie says, not amused but willing to participate to get it over with. “Wait for me!”
She runs down the hallway without a tantrum, thankfully.
“Are you doing okay, sweetheart?” Siggy asks me.
“Yeah. I’m great. Thanks. Are you okay?”
Siggy furrows a brow in a way that only a mother can do.
“You know you can reach out any time, right?” she asks. “If you need anything or want to grab coffee or want to go shopping. I can watch Rosie or go with you.” She winks. “I love shopping.”
“I appreciate that. I might take you up on it one day.”
“You do that.” She opens the door, and they step outside. “I’ll have her back this evening. Or you and Boone can come over for dinner. I’ll whip something up.”
I lean against the door. “I’ll ask him. He should be home soon.” I glance at my watch and realize he’s already late.
“Tell Jaxi goodbye,” Siggy tells Rosie.
“Bye. Love you,” Rosie says, waving over her shoulder.
I smile. “Have fun, Rosie. I love you.”
The words flow out of my mouth. I love you.
A lump forms in my throat.
Siggy straps Rosie in, gives me a wave, and pulls down the driveway. I’m about to close the door when another car pulls to the curb.
A man in a sharp white polo shirt and black dress pants gets out. He takes out a folder and a notepad before heading up the sidewalk.
“I’m a little late,” he says, giving me a bright smile. “I’m Danny Coutcher, if it wasn’t obvious.”
No. No, it wasn’t.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“I’m supposed to meet with Boone Mason this afternoon.” He stops. “Am I at the wrong house?”
He looks around for the house number. I should have sympathy for him, but I’m too distracted to laugh about it.
“No, you’re at the right place,” I say.
A guy is coming by at six.
“He mentioned someone was coming but not until six. He’s not home yet,” I tell him. “I’m Jaxi. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Oh. Shit. That’s right. I had it in my head that I was supposed to be here at four, but he said he was getting home at four, didn’t he?”
I nod. “I think you’re very early.”
He takes a deep breath. “I tell you what. I’ll go grab a sandwich and kill some time, then be back around six.” He rummages around his folder and pulls out a brochure. He hands it to me. “Give this to him in case he wants to take a look at it before I get back. Or you can look at if you’re the partner that he wanted to look at it too.”
A ball of
lead coalesces in my stomach.
I take the pamphlet from Danny.
Savannah’s Premiere Apartment Rentals is printed in bold red font along the top of the front page.
I just want to go over a plan I have and see what you think.
My knees wobble, my legs turn to jelly, as everything snaps together in one big, sad puzzle.
This doesn’t mean anything. It could be a coincidence.
Danny is speaking, but I can’t focus. All I can do is hear my own words in my head and the sound of blood racing through my body.
You’re fine. The shoe dropped. Now you can go on.
This is a good thing. It’s a hurdle, and now you can jump it and leave it behind.
“Does that work for you?” Danny asks, probably for the second or third time.
“Um, let me ask you something,” I say, forcing a swallow. “Boone was going to show these to me and see what I thought. They look great. Do you have anything available now?”
I fight back tears and hope that he doesn’t hear the way my voice threatens to break.
“Anything available?” he asks, lifting a brow. “As in, a unit? To rent?”
I nod.
He shifts his weight. “Yes. We have a few units vacant.”
“I’d like one,” I say in a rush. “Boone was looking for me. Do you have a two-bedroom?”
I keep the words short. I focus on the transaction part of the conversation and not the idea of packing up our things.
Of Boone not wanting us here.
But that has to be it. There’s really no other explanation for this. And if I call and ask him and he has to admit his plans—that he needs some space—that will make it awkward.
I’m sure he was going to come home and play it off somehow. He wouldn’t be cruel. But it’s different now that I know. I’d have to play dumb and pretend I didn’t see what was really happening, and I’m not stupid.
I won’t pretend to be.
Danny presses his lips together. “Off the top of my head, I think we have a couple of two bedrooms. One might not be in that building,” he says, pointing at the brochure I’m holding like a live grenade. “But I can call Sheila, my assistant, and ask.”
“No, that’s fine. The building is irrelevant. What’s the price?”
His forehead wrinkles. “Twelve-hundred a month.”
I almost drop the pamphlet.
I can afford that—for a while, at least. The Kapowskis wouldn’t allow me to refund the advance for nannying, saying I’d need it for Rosie. And I have a little money from selling my car.
I have to live somewhere until I can find a job or relocate completely. This will work.
“Can I just do a couple of months? Three, at most.”
He scratches his head. “We don’t do that. But, since you’re a friend of Anjelica’s, I can make an exception.”
Who is Anjelica?
“I’ll take it,” I say quickly. “One of them. I don’t care. Three months.”
“Okay. Um, sounds good. Come down tomorrow and we’ll go over the rental application. The address is on my card that’s tucked inside the brochure.” He motions toward my hand. “You’ll tell Boone I was here?”
I nod. “Thanks for coming by. We appreciate it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I don’t wait for him to turn around. I don’t say goodbye.
Instead, I bolt inside before the tears stream down my face.
Twenty-Two
Boone
I turn off my car.
I open the door to climb out but stop to reach back into the console to grab my phone.
Jaxi didn’t answer any of my calls on the way here. I know she was okay a couple of hours ago because Mom was here. But why is she not answering now?
An unread text message pops on the screen as I shut the door.
Danny: I got my schedule mixed up. I apologize. However, I dropped off a couple of brochures with Jaxi. She’s going to come by the office tomorrow to sign some papers. Glad I could help you out.
My feet stumble, and I stop walking. A sinking feeling fills my stomach.
Me: She’s signing papers for what?
Danny: An apartment. I thought Anjelica said it was an apartment complex so I came prepared to discuss that. You probably thought I was crazy asking to meet with you over an apartment rental.
I look up at the house. Oh, fuck.
My phone buzzes with another text. I squeeze it in my hands as I jog toward the house.
Bouncing up the steps three at a time, I try to rationalize why Jaxi would be signing papers for an apartment.
It makes no sense.
None.
My stomach churns as I open the door, threatening to spill the contents of my lunch onto the tile.
“Jaxi!” I shout. My voice echoes. “Are you here?”
I peek in the kitchen.
No luck.
“Jaxi!” I shout again.
My heart pounds as I walk down the hallway and into our room.
She’s sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap, staring at the door.
At me.
Her eyes are dry but red and puffy. The lashes that slay me are clumped together.
A chill runs down my spine as I take her in.
What the fuck happened here today?
“Are you okay?” I ask slowly. “Because I feel like I missed something huge.”
She nods. I think she tries to speak, but the words get stuck in her throat.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I walk to the bed and sit beside her. “Talk to me, Jax.”
She stares at the doorway. It’s a refusal to look at me. A slight sigh escapes her lips, but other than that, she doesn’t move.
My brain screams at me to take action—to do something. To shake her, kiss her, scream at her. To do anything that will stop the volatility burning inside me.
“I need you to talk,” I say. “Is it Rosie? Isn’t she with Mom?”
She nods. “Rosie is fine.”
Her voice is weak. Pained. But also utterly controlled.
“Then what’s not fine?” I ask.
“I don’t want this to be awkward,” she says.
“It’s too late for that.”
She licks her lips. “I was thinking today that it’s probably the best for Rosie if she and I get our own place for a while.”
“No.”
My quick and immediate answer takes her by surprise.
Her eyes go wide, and finally, she looks at me. “What?”
“You are not moving out of here.”
Her brows pull together.
“Why on earth would you think it would be a good idea?” I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone. “Danny called me. He told me that you’re signing papers for an apartment tomorrow.”
Despite my best efforts not to be, I’m pissed.
She forces a swallow but stands her ground.
“I am,” she says.
It feels like a challenge. It sure as hell sounds like one too.
I spring to my feet, the mattress bouncing with the change in weight. I pace the room and try to wrap my head around what is going on.
“How could you do this and not ask me?” I face her with my arms out to the sides. “Did you ever stop and think that you should ask me what I want?”
She stands too. “I’m giving you what you want.”
I chuckle angrily. “You think moving out of here and taking Rosie with you is giving me what I want?”
“Yes. I do.” Her tone hardens to match mine. “I think you’re entirely too nice to ask me for what you want.”
What? What is she talking about?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. “What do you think I want?”
Her gaze sinks into mine. It’s cool and borderline icy, but I can still see my Jaxi in there—the warm and generous woman I know. Who has obviously been burned and is clearly scared.
“You’re not going to lay t
his on me and then not talk to me about it,” I warn her. “That’s not how this gets played.”
“I’m not playing.”
I snort. “I’m glad because I sure as fuck am not.”
She blows out a breath and walks to the other side of the room. It’s as though she knows that the space between us hurts more than anything.
“What caused this?” I ask. “What caused you to lose your mind and think I want you to leave?”
“You did, Boone. And it’s fine. I’m grateful to you and always will be for helping me through this—”
“You …” I say, pointing a finger at her, “are too fucking much.”
She whips around. The feistiness in her eyes melts into a pool of watery golds.
My lungs strain to bring in any oxygen. My chest threatens to crack open and bleed right in front of her. I want them here. With me. I don’t want them to leave.
Maybe ever.
She nods, causing the bun on top of her head to wobble.
Her lip quivers. “I am too much,” she says in almost a whisper. “I know that.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s true either way. I am a lot. I know that. And it’s not fair what I’ve done to you.”
My shoulders fall. “Please explain because I didn’t know you did anything to me.”
She looks shamed. Guilted. The way she looks at me with those big eyes full of unshed tears makes me think that maybe she did something to be sorry for.
“What did you do?” I ask. “Did something happen?”
She laughs, but the sound is muted, like her mouth is full of cotton.
“Jaxi?”
“Like usual, I tried my best but seem to screw it all up.”
“What did you screw up?” I ask, my voice rising.
“This. Me. You. Rosie, if I don’t watch it.” Tears stream down her face. “I wanted this to work with you. I wanted it to so badly. But every day when I wake up in this house, I feel like Cinderella just waiting on everything to change back.”
She paces around the room.
“This isn’t real, Boone.”
“The hell it’s not.”
She laughs in a sad, hollow way. “It’s too good to be real. It’s … It’s an apparition, a trick of the mind. And even if it is real,” she says, cutting off the objection on the tip of my tongue, “it’s going to end. This is going to get more complicated. Do you know what I talked to Rosie about today?”
Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) Page 19