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I need a few more days. I want a few more days of perfection, then I’ll tell her the truth. All of it and fingers crossed, she’s either really fucking forgiving, or pregnant.

Both would be ideal.

She is starting to remember things. Little things at the moment. Details about what happened at the party, about how there were other people here when she fell in the pool. I explained that they were the agents showing us around the place, but I don’t think she bought it. Not completely. She looked puzzled and asked why I didn’t mention them before, and I didn’t have a good answer.

Right now, as I take a call from her mom, she’s napping in the next room.

“Can’t you go wake her up, Jackson? I really want to talk tomy little girl. We’re not really going to have any reception for the next few days while we’re on safari and I’d like to hear her voice.”

I shake my head. “She’s had a killer migraine and just fell asleep. I really don’t want to disturb her, you know?”

“No.” My stepmom hesitates for a moment, then says more firmly, “No, you’re right, Jackson. Thank you for looking out for her. You’ve always been a good big brother, you know that? I trust you completely. And you know I love you like you are my own son. It’s good to hear your voice, anyway, and you’ll let her know I called, won’t you?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Your dad wants to have a word. I think it’s something to do with work. I’ve told him that this is our second honeymoon and I want him to relax, but you know what he’s like.”

I force a laugh. “Yeah. It’s fine. Put him on. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

A second later, my dad comes on. His voice is lowered, which means he’s probably moved away wanting to keep his own secrets. And right now, I’m hardly in a position to judge. “I had a phone call from Harson,” he says.

“So did I.”

“Yeah. He wants to meet with you, ASAP. I know you’re taking a break, but this is kind of important. You need to take this deal with him,” My dad clicks his tongue the way he does when he’s having to deliver bad news. “Things are bad, Jackson. They’re foreclosing on the Oakland house. Our home Jackson. Just sign with Harson. Hell, he’ll even fly you and Mina up to New York he said. He said he offered and you turned him down. Don’t do this Jackson, don’t do this to your family. Tell me you’ll call him back and accept.”

“I’m going to take his deal, Dad. But on my terms, not his.”

“That’s not how Harson works,” he grunts, and at the same time I hear the floorboard creak. I glance across to see Mina walking in, rubbing her eyes, looking confused. “He likes to bethe big dog, you know that. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. We’re going out into some areas with only sat phone service for a few days, I won’t be able to relax unless you tell me you’ll do the right thing Jackson.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I mutter, and press to end the call before I say something that triggers Mina’s memories.

“Who…who was that?” she asks.

“No one. Football stuff. You okay? You were so fucking cute sleeping. I watched you for a long-time baby.”

“I slept okay. I…I think I remembered something else. Was I going to a fashion show or something? Some sort of contest? I remembered something about Marie Clare but maybe it was a dream? I’m not a fashion designer, so…”

“Yes, you are,” I tell her, walking the tightrope. “You’ve always been interested in that, ever since I’ve known you. I was going to surprise you, but I’ve booked us a private jet.”

“Really?” She does this little cute as fuck bunny hop. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one, baby. Some of your outfits you designed got a bit torn up in a mix up with your suitcase, and you were upset, but I had them brought here so we could get them fixed, then head for New York and chase your dreams.”

“You did all that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” I tell her, and I mean it. I’d do fucking anything. Anything except tell her the truth, apparently. “You go pack us a bag baby. And, bring along a few things for another fashion show. One for Daddy.”

Ten

Mina-

This. Is.Amazing.

It hardly even feels like we’re flying, the ride is so smooth. There’s a pilot up front, but honestly it’s so private back here I could dance around naked and nobody would know any different. I’d be tempted to do so, too, if not for the fact that I’m trying to get these clothes fixed.

“How did they get ripped likethis?” I ask as I draw out a dress from the case, frowning at the destroyed zipper and seam. I laugh, because otherwise I’d be crying over the amount of work that clearly went into it.