Page 102

Jackson

Two Months Later . . .

“I did something,” I confess, whispering from fear. Maybe it’s also the hour, just past midnight. Or maybe because I know I should have talked to my wife beforehand. We’d just gotten back from an extended honeymoon in the Maldives when the opportunity presented itself.

Call me weak, but I couldn’t resist. She was a thing of beauty, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to have her. But Marlow’s going to kill me. We said no secrets. She’s my wife and I should have talked to her first. That would have been the right thing to do.

It’s too late.

I did it.

Now I must face the consequences of my actions.

Marlow doesn’t move a millimeter and I can’t hear her breathing either. I nudge her. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” she snarks.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

She shuffles onto her side to face me. “Sorry, I guess my husband making a confession in the dead of night that starts with ‘I did something’ kind of freaks me out.”

I chuckle and slip down the mattress, rolling to my side to face her. “Sorry.” Laughter aside, I gulp, and just tell her, ripping it off like a Band-Aid. “I bought a house.”

“What?” Her body bolts upright, and she looks down on me. “What do you mean, you bought a house, Jackson?”

I’m debating if I should stay lying down tucked under the covers or sit up and face the wrath of Marlow. I stay under the covers. “It’s a good investment and a good transition?—”

“Transition to what?”

“Transition into the next stage in life.”

“Jackson,” she huffs and falls back on the mattress. “You make it sound like we’re heading into retirement when I just turned thirty, like three weeks ago.”

“Right, but we’ve talked about kids, for instance.

Where would they go? Sure, they can have the office, but then where will we go?

I know you don’t want me at the office all the time, so I need a place to work at home.

You need a place where you can get stuff done without always being at the gallery. ”

I know I’m about to get a barrage of reasons for why this is a terrible idea and how I should’ve never done this without asking. And she’d be right on all of those rationales. But she’s for the here and now, our present life. I am planning for our future.

Before she has a chance to say anything, I continue, “I know you like this apartment, and we haven’t even lived here that long together, but?—”

“I just moved from the other one, and now you want me to move to a new place. When do we get to settle?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s what this place will be for us. It’s a place with six bedrooms, an open kitchen, nice living room space, and a game room or it could be a screening room for your dad’s films. And wait till you see the primary bathroom.”

“What if I hate the bathroom?”

“Then we remodel. I don’t care if we tear it all out. I know you’re going to love this place if you just keep an open mind.” I hear her taking a deep breath, a sign I’ve learned that this means she’s not giving in. But she is giving me a chance. And that’s all I need.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep an open mind if you let me change anything I want.”

“Done deal. I already knew you’d change everything.”

“Huh.” She snuggles closer. I wrap my arm around her, holding her to me. A few breaths pass before she asks, “Where is it?”

Finally, she’s on the hook. This is the best part and what I’ve been dying to share with her. “You know how you always say it’s amazing that Natalie and Tatum live next door to each other, and how awesome it would be to live next to your best friend?”

Shoving off my chest, she hovers over me. “You did not?”

For a second, I can’t tell if that’s a good reaction or bad, so I say it slowly while nodding to help break the news, “I did .”

The lights drifting in through the windows is enough to see her eyes go wide. She tackles me into a hug. “I can’t believe you bought the house next to Cammie and Cade.”

Oh, shit . . . wrong best friends as new neighbors. “Wait.”

She pushes up again, but in her happiness, she dips to kiss me, and then asks, “What?”

“I, uh . . .” Shit, I don’t know how to fix this. Maybe I should go to Brooklyn and see if the neighbors will sell their house to me.

She swats me and then falls in a giggling mess to the bed next to me. “I’m kidding, St. James.” But then she pops up so fast that her hair falls from that twisted little fabric. “But you better mean Tealey and Rad.”

“Oh, God, I can breathe.” I puff out a harsh breath. She’s still laughing when I say, “I was really thinking I screwed up. So much so that I was already planning a trip to Brooklyn to buy the neighbor’s house.”

“How?” She’s suddenly not joking at all.

“I’d probably call a car. The subway would take too long?—”

“No, Jackson. I mean, how would you afford both?”

Caressing my cheek, I say, “ We. It’s our money.”

“Half my trust went toward Art for the Community, and the other eight million went into a nest egg for our family. You own this apartment. You now own a house in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the city.”

“I also own a building in Staten Island, a farm outside Nashville, and a lake house in Austin.”

“I. Hm . . .” Lying down, she tucks her hands under her cheek. “I think we need to talk about finances soon. Yours specifically since you already know about mine.”

“I’m an open book. All you have to do is ask me. But to save you some trouble. I’ve made some really good investments, and the settlement from Morgenstern wasn’t too shabby either.”

She leans over and kisses me. “You know, it’s not money that impresses me.”

I watch, entranced by the sight of her tongue sliding over her bottom lip. “Oh, yeah? What impresses you, baby?”

She reaches under the covers and rubs her hand along my length. “Really big . . .”

“Yes?” I swallow hard, wanting to kiss her so badly and start round two for the night. “Go on. Tell me what impresses you.”

Taking hold of me, she says, “Closets. Tell me about the closet space at the new house. Talk about a turn-on.”

“Mmm.” I roll on top of her, wedging her legs apart with my knee, and settle in exactly where I want to be. When her arms come around me, I say, “I’d rather show you because I promise you, I never disappoint.”

Six Months Later . . .

“You do not disappoint, Jackson St. James.”

Hate to brag, but I’m so tempted to say I told you so. I don’t because I’m a grown man who can control himself.

She walks to the drawers under the backlit, glass front cabinets and opens them. On the third one, she stops and stares down at the contents. When she glances back at me over her shoulder, a mischievous grin arises. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“How many pairs of underwear are in here?”

I sit down in the chair and swivel. “Enough for me to have my way every night for the next two months.”

“You bought me sixty pairs of Agent Provocateur underwear?”

“Technically, I bought them for me to rip right off your fucking sexy body. There’s also a gift card so you can go buy anything you like in there.”

She laughs, picking up the card. Looking at me again, she says, “You know you didn’t have to do this. I’m perfectly fine buying my own panties to let you rip off me.”

“I wanted to. I keep my promises.”

Coming over to me, she sits on my lap and wraps around me. She kisses me and then says, “You certainly do. How’d I get so lucky?”

Running my hand over the scruff of my chin, I reply, “I think it was beer from a keg.”

“I remember champagne.” She kisses me again, and says, “Doesn’t matter how we got here. Only matters that we’re here.”

I caress her cheek and look into her eyes, still seeing her like it’s the first time and stealing my breath away. But now, it’s not her beauty that mesmerizes me. It’s how big she loves. She loves me with everything. The same way I love her, with my entire being and soul.

We used to take it day by day, but that’s not how we operate anymore. We’re two people who have made the commitment to be together and to be present, open, and honest in each other’s lives. Always. “I want to have kids with you, Marlow.”

She leans forward, taking a good look at me. “Right here in this closet?”

“No, well , maybe, but in life. I’m ready. What do you think?”

Reaching down, she digs through her handbag and then comes back up to settle on my lap again. Handing me a white stick, she points at two little pink lines. Kissing me, she then says, “I think we’re just getting started.”

Turn the page to read chapters from Never Got Over You , which are part of the New York Love Stories Series, and will introduce you to these awesome characters.