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“I’m going to be honest here. You’re in your early twenties, single, live in a rundown apartment, and make just enough to make ends meet. This is going to be tough.”
“Money won’t be an issue. You know that, Jax,” Jazzy said, before Mary could gather her thoughts.
Jackson smirked. “Yes, I know that you’ve wrapped my brother around your little finger, sis.”
Jazzy fluttered her eyelashes in exaggeration. “As is the duty of any wife.”
He shook his head and focused back on Mary. “Even with the Dettas backing you up financially, you’re still a single, twenty-one-year old. It would be different if you were married and could show a stable family life. Something a couple ready to adopt would be able to do. Do you have a partner, Mary?”
I wish.
Sadly, every potential prince she had kissed so far had turned out to be a frog, the latest being Josh. That had ended six months ago, right after the death and demise of her grandfather. Apparently, Josh had expected to land himself an heir. When that ship had crashed and burned, he’d sailed out of her life.
On the imaginary yacht he bought with your money.
Sometimes she hated her inner snark.
Her shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t.”
Jackson’s eyes spoke volumes of what he thought her chances were in court. “I’ll have my assistant mail you the contact info of your lawyer. You should call him and go over the specifics.”
Who was she kidding? No judge was going to trust a six-year-old that wasn’t of her blood to a single, twenty-one-year-old art teacher.
It was as if the corners of her world got darker and darker until she could hardly see the light anymore.
CHAPTER 4
MARY
She dashed out of Jackson’s office. Yes,dashed. Strode out like a bat out of hell. She needed air. Needed to be alone and gather her thoughts, all while trying not to throw up.
The image of Zoe, clutching Spidey, begging Mary to take them with her, was etched into her mind.
“But why can’t I go with you? I don’t want to stay here.”
“Please. I’ll be good. I will never eat too much cookie dough again.”
“Mary? Mary! Please don’t go. Please.”
On her way to the elevators, she almost bumped into Hector. Great. There he was; the object of her fantasies, in all his bulky, growly glory, and she looked like crap.
One look at her blotched face—she wasn’t a pretty crier—and he frowned. “What the fuck happened to you?”
He was always so eloquent. Today she wasn’t in the mood to scold him about another f-bomb; she felt like cursing herself. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get any words past the enormous lump in her throat.
She shot past him and took the stairs. Jazzy called after her, but she ignored her.
Her cousin caught up with her two floors down. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going downstairs.”
“I can see that. But why are you taking the stairs?” Jazzy sounded more curious than annoyed.
“I like taking the steps. It’s great cardio.” It was also a slower way to get back home to her empty apartment.
“We’re on the twenty-sixth floor. That’s a lot of steps.”
“I just need time to think. I’ll take the elevator when I’ve found a solution to my problem.”