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All I can do is lie low, be invisible and work on my relationship with Aurora. Right now, I’m the enemy. She won’t speak to me unless necessary, and I didn’t do myself any favors with thatspousal privilegecomment.
I miss the days when she was affectionate toward me, when she needed me, when I was the one who made her smile.
Jesus, I’m being overdramatic.
I didn’t get where I am by not being able to shut off my emotions, but the switch short-circuited when I met Aurora, flickering between fuck this and fuck that.
And now, I’m in a car with two of the Rossi boys.
While we cram in the back, Dante drives, and Desmond faces the back seat, telling Aurora all about our new place.
One brother, Dante, is quiet, while the other loves to talk. Not just talk—he animatedly gestures with his hands, and Aurora giggles. She’s smitten with Ethan’s family.
“We only had one property available in the Fashion District. Pretty cool, though. Used to be an old factory loft. It’s on the top floor, with a massive rooftop terrace.” He extends his arms in emphasis. “And it has a gallery studio... I think that’s what it’s called.”
He peers over at his brother, and Dante nods in agreement.
Aurora cocks her head, her brow pinched, her voice brimming with curiosity. “A gallery studio?”
“Yeah, a room of windows with natural lighting and a workspace. Hard to explain, but it’d be perfect for you. We could get some of those giant-ass mirrors if you’d like.” Again, he talks with his hands.
My eyes gravitate to Jackson, and we share a glance full of suspicion. No way Ethan’s family justhappenedto have the perfect studio space in the Fashion District.
“There are four bedrooms that used to be offices,” Desmond continues. “The living area is so huge, you could play hockey inside, but the layout is strange. The galley kitchen is tiny, and we have yet to remodel.”
Probably because they recently bought it. I bet they’d remodel if Aurora asked.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She gives him a warm smile. “Only Jax cooks, and we’ll be out of your hair shortly.”
I have a feeling we won’t be leaving anytime soon, not if Ethan and his family have anything to say about it.
46
ETHAN
“Ilovethis place.It’s phenomenal. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect studio. It’s better than Paulo’s. Well, it could be. It’s more of a blank canvas...”
In nothing but a towel, I sit on the bed, damp skin burning hot against the cool air of my bedroom, and listen to Aurora rattle on about the loft. The weight I've carried over the past few days feels lighter, the irritable snake in my gut less venomous.
This week, we’re on the road, heading toward the East Coast. We have a game in Ohio, another in Montreal, and then two in New York.
All I think about is getting to New York.
“Please don’t say that too loud. I don’t need Jax buying more property.”
I might own that loft, at least on paper, but I don’t mention it. My family will spoil her either way. They’ve waited my entire life for this opportunity.
“He won’t. He hates New York. But your nephews are so sweet.”
She draws out the last word, and I can envision her pouty lips as does. Her excitement makes me chuckle, and I lie back and stare at the ceiling like a goddamn lovesick teenager.
“They said they’ll move my clothes tomorrow,” she continues. “And they have a warehouse. They’re going to search for some big mirrors. They aresocute, too. They have your dimples.”
“Wait. Who?” I have no clue who she’s talking about, but they better be family. “I don’t have any siblings, baby girl.”
My father didn’t have any children with his wife before he went to prison, which I learned from Google. She divorced him and remarried shortly after his incarceration.
Thank fuck my mother didn’t have any other children. One was too much for her.