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This is my first trip without Emily. She’s the organized and outgoing one. Ricky’s a tremendous help, but he’s not my assistant, and we’re still getting to know each other.
After the second time I fumbled to find my ID, phone, and boarding pass, he took everything from me to check in himself. At our destination, he grabbed all my bags, including my carry-on and backpack, threw them over his shoulder, and led me out of the airport by my hand.
He never once complained or made me feel inadequate. He even let me sleep on him.
He’s a take-charge kind of guy.
When we arrive at the Tribeca loft, our home for the next month, I’m exhausted and nauseated. Apparently, the baby doesn’t enjoy flying.
Ricky assists the driver in bringing the bags up, insisting I rest in the locked vehicle until he returns for me. I know he must be tired too.
Once we’re inside, I apologize for being a pain in the ass.
His brows furrow tightly. “I was deployed in the military as a medic. I can handle your anxiety.”
That has me giggling. I must be sleepy. “Did you just compare me to war?”
He turns toward the kitchen. “Never had anyone drool on me in battle.”
I laugh even harder. “I did not drool on you!”
The loft is boutique-style, with exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling arched windows, modern amenities, and three bedrooms. Odd, since we usually stay in a hotel or a studio. Then I remember Jackson is part of the picture now, and this is likely his or his team’s doing.
Ricky comes back with a package of sliced apples. “Eat so you’re not sick.” Then, he inspects the entire place before settling for the bedroom opposite mine.
Despite longing to collapse into bed, I sit against the headboard, eat the apples, and scroll through my messages.
Ethan: I miss you already. Text me when you get settled. No matter the time.
Me: Miss you too. We’re here.
Next, I skim through Jackson’s essay of texts, shaking my head at the difference between the two. I can’t even keep up with everything Jax wrote. I’d be worried if I didn’t know he was on a flight with Ethan.
Jax: I miss you already.
Jax: I need you.
Jax: I love you.
Jax: Returning home to you felt like my world had finally come together.
Jax: I’m fucking proud of you. You deserve it. You don’t deserve to deal with my baggage. I’ll work on that.
Jax: I want to be with you. You make it all worth it.
Jax: You’re more than worth it.
Jax: I sound obsessive, but I’m legit sick over you leaving.
Me: I love you. Everything will be okay. Call me when you get up.
Me: And you are obsessive! But I can’t wait to see you.
Something nags at my brain, but I’m too tired to think. I know I shouldn’t get sucked into his orbit. I know this is moving too fast, but Jackson’s a freight train. There’s no stopping him.
I rub my eyes and drop my phone on the nightstand.
A shrill noise slices through the stillness. I swear, I fell asleep minutes ago. My heavy eyelids wage a fierce battle against the grip of sleep while my mind works to separate dream from reality.