Page 92

Marlow

“Rad needs your help.” The door closes, and Jackson walks in. His gaze darts from me to Cammie on the couch, and then to Tealey, who’s frozen to the spot in the hall. “Oh, shit.”

A few seconds of silence beat between us as the four of us are caught in a staring standoff. Tealey finally says, “What does Rad need help with?”

“Carburetor. His car . . . buretor .”

“Huh?” I ask, setting my mug on the coffee table when I get up. I walk to greet him, still wondering what he’s talking about. “Why would Rad need my help with his car.” I lift and kiss him. His clothes are cold from the outside, but there’s a slight dampness to the front of his shirt.

The man knows how to wear a suit, but I can’t even resist him in workout clothes, sweaty, and acting shady. I whisper, “What is wrong with you?”

He grabs me and kisses me hard.

“Hi. We’re still here,” Cammie says.

I’m released—boneless and breathless—as he starts down the hall. “Hi, ladies.”

Tealey took my spot, a front row seat to the kissing scene, and says, “What’s gotten into him?”

Licking my lips, I taste the light saltiness lingering on my lips. “I have no idea. I’ll be right back.” They go back to chatting, and I even hear them giggling before I open the door to the bedroom and sneak inside.

The sound of water running leads me to the bathroom. Being murdered in the shower is still a fear of mine after my dad screened a horror movie when I was eight in a brief stage of his life when he was determined to introduce me to the classics.

I’ve not had an apartment with a shower that required a curtain since. I need to see the murderer coming through the glass. Assuming everyone has that same fear, I knock and then enter. “Jackson?”

“Yes?” I peek to see his sculpted physique covered in suds water as it runs over his muscles.

“What was that about?”

He dips his head under the water and rinses before cracking the glass door open. “I can’t tell you until they’re gone. I don’t want to ruin the plan.”

“What plan?”

Tapping my nose, leaving it wet, he says, “I promise to tell you later, but it’s all good news. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

So it involves Rad and Tealey, but that’s as far as I get in my deductions before he closes the door again. I have no patience, especially for good secrets. But this time, I’ll trust him and try not to think about it.

It’s only been an hour, and I can’t stop staring at Tealey. The secret that I’m not even privy to yet is burning a hole in my pocket. Okay, the yoga pants I’m wearing today don’t have pockets. But if they did, they’d be on fire.

Natalie asks, “Has anyone finished seasoning the chicken?”

Cammie, Tealey, and I are lined up on the other side of the peninsula, each with a whole chicken on a roasting rack in front of us. Natalie adds, “We’re all done. This is fun.”

Cammie says, “This is such a great idea. I like to cook, but I wasn’t sure about roasting a whole chicken. Especially if it’s just Cade and me.”

“I’ve tried cooking one before, but it was a guessing game for me and was so dry that it was almost inedible. Rad was a good sport and never complained.”

I’m the last to wash my hands and am still drying them when I add, “Thanks, Natalie, for coming over.” I can’t say cleaning, patting dry, and seasoning a raw chicken has been a great pleasure, but I have enjoyed the bottle of wine she brought.

She claims it makes cooking so much better.

And I get time with my girlfriends. With so much going on in our lives right now, it’s good to spend time with them again.

She replies, “It’s so much simpler than it seems as well.” Lowering her voice, she asks, “I thought you wanted to surprise Jackson?”

“I did. I thought he’d be hanging out with Rad longer today. There is no keeping a secret in these close quarters.” Secrets. I feel like one’s written all over my face, and I don’t even have one. Well, other than knowing that there is one. I’m never going to make it.

As soon as I cover my chicken with foil and tuck it in the fridge, I leave as Cammie puts her chicken in the oven first. “I’ll be back in a moment. Make yourselves at home.”

Tiptoeing down the hall, I lean in before I knock lightly on the door to the home office.

“Come in,” Jackson says from the other side of the wood.

I open the door slowly and peek my head inside before sliding all the way through and shutting it behind me. “You need to tell me the secret. Guilt is written all over my face, and I don’t even know the secret yet.”

“You can’t wait, even knowing it’s a good secret?”

“Especially because it’s a good secret. Just tell me please, Jackson.”

Papers are scattered all over the top of the desk, a yellow legal pad with scribbles on it is near the computer monitor, which is lit up with what appears to be more numbers than words.

He looks busy with something important this Sunday afternoon, but he still drops everything when I walk into the room and gives me his complete attention.

I never knew what others meant by true love, but now I do.

Checking his phone as if he heard it ringing, he says, “Rad wants to surprise Tealey with a ceremony.”

My head jerks back. “What do you mean surprise her with a ceremony?”

Now staring at his monitor, he mumbles, “Exactly.”

Completely confused, I finally riddle through this. “What exactly? I don’t understand what you mean, Jackson.”

“He’s going to surprise her with the actual ceremony. He just wants to be married, but he wants her to have the wedding of her dreams.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Men. I shake my head. “Now we’re on the same page.”

“Same page. Great.” He flips through a pile of papers and pulls a sheet out.

Looking back at me, he says, “Their schedules are so out of sync that he’s worried, or should I say, he’d rather be married to her now than try to coordinate complicated schedules for the next year.

And he’s recruited us to help him make this happen. Well, specifically you.”

“Me?” I sit on the chair on the other side of the desk. “How can I help?”

“He wants you to help plan their wedding from beginning to end.”

“Tealey won’t want a surprise wedding. You know she’s a diehard romantic.”

Rocking back in his chair, a crease forms between his brows.

The tension seems a bit much for talk about his friends getting married.

Then he steeples his fingers. I ask, “Am I intruding? You seem preoccupied. The marriage wedding mix-up. You keep looking at your phone like you’re expecting a call. ”

“I’m always expecting a call.”

“Okay, you’re busy. I get it, but…”

Pushing back from the desk, he says, “Sorry. I’m present. Mind in this. Rad thinks Tealey will like the idea because she is a romantic. She’s also busy with the foundation, so he was hoping you could take charge not only because of your party-planning knowledge, but also know what she’ll love.”

“I appreciate the flattery, but I’ll need to think on this.

I’m not sure how I’d feel about a surprise wedding.

” My friend has never been about all the little details of the party.

She’s told me many times that she’d prefer just being married to Rad than dealing with the rest. “You know, I’m starting to think this might not be such a bad idea.

” I get up and start pacing the room. “If I can get her to plan the details without planning the details, this could be Rad’s greatest idea ever.

” Giddy, a giggle escapes and I clap my hands.

“It’s brilliant. Tell Rad, I’m in.” I nod toward the door. “Now I need to get back.”

“You can’t spoil the surprise, Marlow.”

“I won’t. My lips are sealed.” I pretend to zipper my lips and then toss the key to Jackson. He catches it and then shoves it in his pocket because he’s adorable.

Returning to the kitchen, Natalie is demonstrating smashed potatoes. “This is one of Jackson’s personal favorites that my mom made for us when we were growing up.”

“I missed how long they bake before we get to smash them,” I say, sitting on a barstool. I take a sip of wine and just happen to get a glimpse of Tealey, who’s busy smashing her own potatoes to take home.

“Rad loves potatoes,” she says.

I ask, “What about you?”

A quick bump of her shoulders appears to indicate that it might not be right for wedding food if she were choosing it. “I like potatoes.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

She and Cammie look at me, and she laughs. “They’re potatoes.”

“Noted.”

“Why are you noting this?”

I pop to my feet and grab the bottle because how am I going to keep this secret from them? It’s impossible. “More wine?”

I’m in so much trouble. At least it’s the good kind.

Jackson’s still in his office hours later. He ventured out for water and spent a few minutes chatting with his sister in the living room. It seemed like a heavier conversation, so I didn’t want to invade their privacy, but my heart has hung a bit heavier since.

She had to leave shortly after, but it was nice to bond with her for a few hours and learn a new trick to Jackson’s heart. I hope he likes the meal tonight.

With the food packed up and ready for them to take home, Cammie says, “This was fun. I can host next time. I’d like to try beef bourguignon, Julia Child’s recipe, and take my basic skills to the next level. I think Cade will love it. He’s got to be sick of all the casseroles I make.”

Tealey, holding her tote bag of food, says, “I’m in. Oh, you know what I’d love to learn how to cook?”

“What?” I ask so fast, I startle her. I think I’ve taken this secret assignment too seriously. We start laughing. “Sorry. What would you like to learn to cook?”

“Sourdough bread from scratch.”

Damn. That doesn’t help me . . . or does it. A bruschetta appetizer—simple and elegant. Man, I’m good at this. Maybe I should change careers.

Grinning, I say, “We could make this a regular thing—our very own cooking series. Once a month or whatever we decide.”

“That’s such a fun idea,” Cammie says, and then rubs her belly. “Maybe I’ll learn to make baby food.”

Tealey smiles, but if I’m not wrong, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should go. Hugs all around. Have a great week.”

She and Cammie walk out together. Closing the door, I lean against it for a few seconds before pushing off and then tending to the food. When I take the chicken I prepped earlier out of the oven, I then stick the potatoes in and pad down the hall in my bare feet.

With my hand raised, ready to knock, I stop when I hear him say, “Get the fucking lawyers in the office tomorrow. First thing, or they’re fired.”

I back away, unsure what to do. Pretend I didn’t hear him yell or be honest with him? Secrets seem to be ruling the day, and it sounds like he’s dealing with a Mount Everest–sized one.

I return to the kitchen and take two sips of wine before steeling myself and righting my expression. I want to lighten his load, not add to it. “Jackson?” I call, too chipper. I sound fake even to my own ears.

He comes out and walks toward me. “Smells great.”

“Thanks. Want to have a drink with me before dinner’s ready?”

“Sure. Yeah.” He grabs a baby carrot from the baking sheet before I put it in the oven and crunches down on it. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good time. I think I have an appetizer for the secret wedding.”

“You work fast.”

“It was a good setup to talk about food.” I take a sip of wine while he grabs a lowball glass from the cabinet. I reach down for the bottle and say, “Let me get the drink for you.”

Jackson stops and looks at me, it’s only a second, but then he smiles—leisurely like he’s taking me in and liking what he sees. “Thanks.” Moving to the barstool, he gets comfortable.

I fill the glass two fingers high and set it in front of him. “Neat?” I ask, ready to grab ice if he prefers the whiskey chilled.

“This is perfect.”

“How do you feel about secrets?”

“Secrets will always come out.” Sipping from the glass, he keeps his eyes on mine. “What’s on your mind? The wedding or something else?”

I return the bottle to the cabinet and then take my glass of wine and stand with the counter between us. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, just to say that up front.”

“That’s not a good start.” He takes a gulp like he’s going to need a crutch.

“When the girls left, I went to tell you dinner was almost ready, but I just caught the tail end of a conversation that you were having on the phone.”

He dips his head into his hand, his eyes leaving mine, and rubs his forehead. When he looks up, defeat has set into his shoulders, making him slump. “What did you hear?”

This time, I gulp, worried I’ve already upset him when tonight was supposed to be about me showing my appreciation. “I overheard you say something about meeting with the lawyers. And I know you only need lawyers when you’re in trouble. Are you in trouble, Jackson?”

His blue eyes study mine, but I can see the war raging inside.

He shifts the glass around on the counter, but I don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it as if it’s a nervous tic.

My stomach clenches as my mind starts to spin in concern.

Finally, he says, “Are you worried I’m keeping secrets from you? ”

“I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to worry about me.” He stands, taking the drink in hand, and starts back down the hall. “Call me when the food’s ready,” he says, shutting the door to the office right after and leaving me in the kitchen with a romantic dinner for two.

Whatever secret he’s keeping, is it big enough to risk destroying us? Aren’t all secrets?

Do I listen and not worry about him?

It’s too late for that. I’m worried and a little shaken. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this side of Jackson. He’s allowed to have a crappy day, but shutting me out is not the same as shielding me, if that’s what he’s trying to do.

What I do know is that my plans for tonight just went in the garbage.