Page 26

Confession: The only person I’m afraid of is my father.
I wishedBirdie and Hen didn’t have to work a regular eight-to-five schedule, but they did, so I got ready for the press conference on my own. (Aside from the video call I made to Charlotte to confirm my blue dress was appropriate. She said it was.)
I had just finished curling my hair when the doorbell rang.
That had to be Jonas. Fifteen minutes early. Nervous flutters kicked in, and I wished he wasn’t so damn punctual so I had more time to make my home, and myself, more presentable.
Why did I feel nervous to have him see my home? See me? Probably just because this press conference was such a big deal. I was projecting on him for no reason.
I hurriedly finished applying my mascara, then went to let him in. I swung open the door and my jaw dropped. “Jonas. You...”
He looked down at his suit, which fit him better than a suit should fit an accountant. It had to be expensive and tailored. “Is it too flashy?”
I shook my head, stepping back so he could come inside. “You look great.” The dark blue material complimented his naturally tanned skin, and his chocolate-brown eyes seemed to dance with mystery.
“Good.” He smoothed his hands over the lapels. “I know this is important to you. And my mom. She’s so excited to be doing dialysis at home.”
Right. This wasn’t for me. It was for his mom.Get it through your stinking head, Mara.
“Do you want a cocktail?” I asked. “Maybe a martini to take the edge off?”
“I’ll have one after it all goes well,” he said.
“A nightcap it is.” I smiled. “Let me grab my purse from my room and I’ll be right back.”
I left him standing in my living room and walked down the hallway to my room. The blanket was messy on the bed, and I had to pull it aside to find my Chanel bag. It was one of the first splurges I’d made when I started doing well.
When I came into the living room, I saw him looking at a photo I had framed on the wall over my plushy recliner where I did a lot of my writing.
“Who is this?” he asked, noticing me.
My cheeks instantly warmed. “Me.” It was the only childhood photo I had of myself. My parents hadn’t taken many, and I hadn’t thought to grab the few there were before I left the house. This one had been tucked into my favorite book as a bookmark. “My therapist said I should hang it there to talk to my inner child.”
I instantly knew I’d said too much at the confused look on his face. Of course Jonas didn’t know what inner child work was. He’d had a great childhood that didn’t require hours that turned into years of therapy.
“My therapist says it’s supposed to help heal things that happened to me when I was younger,” I explained. “And if I can re-parent myself, I’ll be able to accept what I deserve more easily.”
Jonas nodded, stepping back from the picture. “I think I’ve heard of that.”
“Ready to go?” I asked, eager to have him away from the photo. Away from the feelings that were still so raw and vulnerable, even a decade and a half later.
“I am.” He followed me out of the house, waiting beside me as I locked the front door. He walked with me to Bertha, my pride and joy. Her white paint gleamed as if even she were showing off for the night.
I hit the unlock button on my key fob, and we both climbed in.
Jonas laughed as he looked over the dash through the windshield. “I feel like a big man in your truck.”
I laughed with him. “That or a golden retriever in the passenger seat.”
“Hey,” he said, humor in his eyes.
With a smile, I tapped directions to Charlotte’s PR office into my phone, then turned on the vehicle and pulled out of my driveway. We had a forty-five-minute drive, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell we would talk about for that long, not to mention the drive back.
“How did Tess and Derek meet?” I decided to ask. At least then I could maybe pick up an idea or two for a story.
“It’s kind of cute but super embarrassing,” he said. “Perfectly describes Tess the Mess.”
“Okay, I have to hear this,” I said, already smiling.