Page 68

Perchedon the edge of the infinity pool, I dip my toes into the sparkling water. The afternoon is as perfect as ever, with sunbeams dancing on the rippling surface and the melody of the waves whispering through the cool air.
It’s not sunny inside my head, however.
I’m overwhelmed. I woke up this morning with texts from Ethan, Jackson, and my agent—nothing from Emily. We fly out in three days. I don’t know if I’ll have an assistant or friend to accompany me.
My agent wants me to call her. I’m sure she knows I’m pregnant by now, given the videos circulating. I can’t continue to avoid her, avoid the heartache of losing my dream.
I let out a long, dramatic exhale. I thought about Ethan’s suggestion until my brain hurt. A relationship with hockey star Jackson O’Reilly would undoubtedly benefit my career. My mental health is yet to be determined.
Jax called last night, excited to talk. I didn’t mention Ethan’s plan. There’s nofakedating for Jackson. I have to accept the idea ofusbefore I bring it to his attention. And he didn’t ask about my call with Ethan, content with talking about nothing, which was a pleasant distraction, because I can’t get Ethan’s conflicting words out of my head.
“You’re young and beautiful. A committed relationship isn’t in the cards.” Whatever. His choice. Not that I wantanything romantic with him, but that stung.
Emerging from the water, I walk to the ledge and rest against the glass barrier. I inhale the salty air and gaze out at the ocean, finding peace in the rhythm of the waves colliding with the cliffs.
I understand the rationality behind Ethan’s plan. I’m okay with it, as long as we go at my pace and Jackson knows everything is over if he returns to drinking.
Fake or not, it’s over.
What distresses me the most is feeling as if I’m nothing more than an escort again, at least in Ethan’s eyes. He wants me to date a man for publicity, to save myself from negative gossip. It’s essentially the same as escorting, simply a different currency.
Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be to Ethan—a woman who benefits from dating high-profile men.
But this is Jackson, my first love. He’ll dive in headfirst, or I should say, heart first. When he wants something, nothing can stop him. This penthouse. The bodyguard. I’ll be spoiled, with little financial concerns.
Another positive is that we’re attracted to each other—I mean, Jackson is fucking hot, there’s no denying that. The giant red flag is his volatile behavior, and I won’t know if I’ve made a colossal mistake until it’s too late.
“Wow.”
Startled, I spin around.
Jackson’s gaze drags over me slowly, a crooked smile curving his lips. “I could get used to this view.”
I’m in a white bikini. He’s dressed in black ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and his beloved unlaced black motorcycle boots. My dark hair is up in a messy bun while his sandy hair is flawlessly tousled. We couldn’t be any more opposite.
It’s also highly annoying he’s effortlessly attractive, even with the abrasion on his cheek and the bruising along his eyebrow—maybe more so.
“You’re early.” I can’t hide the excitement in my tone, and once again, everything in me wants to jump into his arms. “I was getting lonely here.”
A wide grin brightens his green eyes. “I was in a hurry to get home.”
He takes a tentative step forward, his gaze fixed on my slightly rounded stomach. He extends his hand as if to touch me but hesitates.
“You can touch.” I grab his wrist and place his palm on my baby bump.
His hand almost encompasses my entire belly.
“I think you’re a little bigger than last time I saw you.” His callused palm caresses my stomach. “Damn, that’s weird.”
“Sorry,” I mumble and step back, my heart heavy with disappointment.
He shakes his head, brow furrowed in a scowl and returns his hand. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Not at all. When do I get to feel him move?”
A nervous giggle comes over me. “Not for a while—a month or more.”
Even this innocent touch fuels a forbidden longing. I try to tell myself it’s only loneliness. But then, he slides his hand to the small of my back and pulls me in for a hug, and all my problems scatter.
His musky cologne fills my senses, and my eyes squeeze shut as my head falls to his chest and my arms wrap around his waist.