CHAPTER TWENTY: JASON

“Are you ready for your close up?!”

I cut my eyes to Delia, who was enjoying this whole thing a little too much. Even if the bulbs around the mirror weren’t bright enough to blind, her smile was. Every tooth in her mouth shone like a shark who was about to throw down.

“I’m as ready as I’m gonna be,” I grumbled, fidgeting in the shop chair. Calling it a shop chair seemed like eggs on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—it just didn’t fit. A shop was a place with sawdust and metal and wood. I refused to admit that the makeup trailer qualified. The dust wasn’t of the saw variety, but some chalky hue clung to the countertops and choked the air. The metal poked out from containers: scissors, tweezers, and nail clippers. And the wood? It was the base of the brush that the grinning makeup artist was clutching as she advanced toward me.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked warily.

“Relax, Mr. Cox!” she said, her wispy voice like some zen yoga instructor that would have put me to sleep if I hadn’t been on alert. Not to mention I’d clocked in several hours of sleep last night, courtesy of the most insatiable woman I’d ever met. A woman I was glad I didn’t bring to this circus.

Just putting out a statement wouldn’t have been enough. Not with the story still trending on Twitter, thanks to Cassidy booking spots on every gossip show that would have her. So I decided to fight fire with fire. I invited Cassidy to come on The Tea, one of the highest rated gossip shows on TV.

Speaking of fire, I was ready to dash out of this place like it was engulfed in flames, since the makeup artist was dangerously close to my cheek.

“It’s just a little powder, Jason,” Delia cajoled me, aiming her phone at me.

“I don’t do powder,” I growled, opting to fix my tie instead. I froze with my fingers on the knot, realizing that she was definitely streaming this process. “I did make you sign a non-disclosure agreement,” I threatened.

“I’m merely documenting,” she fired back with a laugh. “One day, your grandkids will ask about the day Grandpa broke the internet.”

I was too flabbergasted by ‘grandkids’ and ‘Grandpa’ to dodge the brush...and way too stubborn to admit she was right—it was just a little powder. I couldn’t even tell the difference.

But something was different. It was the warm, comforting feeling that had flooded my chest. The smile that was becoming harder to keep to myself. I generally only did kids on a case by case basis, and after Cassidy, that was a door I’d always kept closed, conceding to a life filled with trips to Maui versus pilgrimages to Disneyland.

But now...my answer to the kids question was ‘Who knows?’ instead of ‘Hell no’. It was still early for talk about babies, but it wasn’t lost on me that it was no longer something that was off the table. Something for other people. Family seemed like a missing piece that I’d found when I wasn’t looking for it, and now that I’d opened my heart to the idea, to Natalee, it was a brave new world.

The makeup artist was taking advantage of my daydream, because she approached me with some color smudged on an applicator.

I shook my head and brandished a tube of chapstick instead. “I’m good to go, thanks.”

She conceded with a giggle. “I’ll be riveted every moment you’re on the screen!” She twirled a dark brown strand around her finger and winked. Before, that kind of flirty invite would have been answered with some flirting of my own, quickly followed by me gauging just how charming I’d have to be to charm her right out of her clothes. Now, I just gave her a friendly smile, murmured a thanks and turned my ire back on Delia, who was peevishly still streaming a precious few moments before she tapped the screen and went back to business mode. After seeing this other side of her, business mode was definitely no longer my preference...even if she was snapping how the sausage was made.

She fell in step beside me as we made our way out of the trailer, narrowly missing a PA that was hustling like his life depended on it.

“Mrs. Larson and Scott just sent a thumbs up!” Delia shared excitedly.

We were in the center of the hive, people with walkie talkies buzzing beneath the sun, their eyes shielded by shades. Their caffeinated, jerky moves forced me to dodge, narrowly missing collision twice in under two minutes. Somehow, Delia had no problem navigating and giving me an update on her efforts to connect with the very people who’d been calling me a two-timing jerk. Well, that, and promposals.

“You should see these comments! Everyone is rooting for you.”

I knew she was just trying to be helpful, but there was only one person that I wanted to hear from, and we hadn’t spoken since I left her place early this morning. She made it known that she wanted to look into Cassidy’s eyes when I shut her down. Considering Natalee had been wringing a dish towel like she was imagining it was Cassidy’s neck when she said it, I decided a solo approach was wise. This was my mess, my chickens coming home to roost. And on the off chance that Cassidy was crazy and not just an opportunist, I didn’t want to expose Natalee to that. She meant too much to me.

Like the powers that be knew I needed an infusion of ‘You’ve got this’, my phone hummed in my pocket.

Natalee: Good luck! I’ll be watching...and waiting for you.

Smirking to myself, I tapped out a response.

Naked?

I tuned out the rest of the world, distractedly putting my full attention on the screen when I saw the signal that she was typing.

Natalee: Geez, all you think about is sex! :)

My thumbs raced across the screen. No...all I think about is you.

I sent it off and twisted my head in Delia’s direction, gearing up a joke that disappeared when she gave me a sly grin that told me she knew who I was talking to, but then her eyes widened.

“Jason, watch-”

I assumed there was an ‘out!’ that was coming next. A PSA for why we should put our phones down more to avoid running into objects, or in this case, a woman.

Scarves and limbs went flying, but I caught her before she fell to the ground. The swarm around us didn’t even pause, but I started apologizing as the woman collected herself, her back to me.

“I am so sorry-”

“Not yet,” the woman interrupted, her tone giving me frostbite while she dusted herself off like she was covered in imaginary dirt—and it was all my fault. There was something about that voice that was unsettlingly familiar.

It dawned on me that it was a voice that had drawled from the screen when I was a glutton for punishment and watched clips of interviews, proclaiming that they had the scoop. ‘The secret fiancé tells all!’ I never stuck around for much more of the story after seeing Cassidy’s face.

The same face I was confronted with when the agitated woman pivoted on her heels and threw a scowl my way that almost killed me dead.

You couldn’t escape her face these days, considering she was shilling her lies to anyone with a buck or two, but being this close to her again was enough to make me take a moment. The look on her face wasn’t unlike the look she had the last time we were together, but underneath the makeup and the years that had passed was the girl I once knew. It was in her eyes, the fighter who refused to be the perfect, blonde haired, blue eyed socialite that her parents demanded. Her chopped locks should have made her look edgy and sophisticated, but I just saw the girl who made her mother lose her shit when she shaved the side of her head and got a butterfly tattoo on her wrist. That butterfly gleamed as Cassidy snatched her purse to the peak of her shoulder, giving me a smoldering once over that gave me chills.

“I see you’re still slamming into women and leaving them to pick up the pieces.”

That voice, edged with acid, and the eyes that looked right through me? That was new.

It was a splash of water that reminded me that this forced reunion was due to the fact that she’d orchestrated some Romeo and Juliet story. The only thing that didn’t make me march right past her was the fact that once, I’d cared a great deal about her. And for what we’d lost, she deserved a modicum of respect, even if she wasn’t sparing a drop for me.

“Hello, Cassidy,” I said warily. “Didn’t see you there.”

Her eyes turned into deadly slivers. “You never did though, did you?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer, sashaying toward the studio like a woman who would burn any and everything down in her path.

It was crystal clear that she didn’t accept the invite to bury the hatchet.

I exchanged a look with Delia, clutching my resolve. Getting into a shouting match with Cassidy would do more harm than good.

“Still think going on The Tea is a good idea?” I quipped.

Delia didn’t even crack a grin.

~

All things considered, I should have been pumped about the impending shitshow. Wasn’t getting booed by a live studio audience from the moment my foot touched the stage on my bucket list? Right up there with getting my toe nails ripped off by a pair of pliers? Or being stripped naked and dumped in a busy intersection?

I was laid bare for the world to throw rotten food at, or at least disgusted glares as they snapped pictures of the biggest jerk alive.

When the PA guiding Delia and I gave me a sympathetic thumbs up, then turned to my assistant, dread peppered my gut. The kid didn’t look a day over eighteen, but he wielded the clipboard and walkie like a man who got shit done. Unfortunately, the next thing on his to-do list was to take away the one person who didn’t want to crucify me.

“Miss? Right this way—we have a seat in the front row for you.”

Delia hovered beside me, the concern flickering in his eyes telling me that even though I was facing the firing squad, I wasn’t alone.

“He’s cute but an ugly attitude equals asshole!” The adamant screech came from one of the quieter sections, but from the high fives that went around, there was no such thing as a quiet section.

I would get no mercy.

I fought the urge to give the woman a wave, picturing the actual object that would likely fly in my direction. These women and men in the audience were just going off what they knew, and as far as they were concerned, I’d led at least one woman on, probably two.

I gave Delia a nod and a tight grin that she didn’t return, but she got the message and murmured for me to break a leg.

“Jokes about breaking bones when the crowd looks ready to go is ill advised.” I tried to sound lighthearted. Instead, it came out like a struggling comic in front of a heckling crowd—and they could smell blood in the water.

The PA’s pasty face darkened, his hearty sigh lifting and dropping his shoulders when Delia wheeled back to face me. He was to her right, but she didn’t look him dead on, she just flicked her eyes in his direction. He shrank a few inches and went off to hurry someone less lethal along.

Standing there, about to get my ass handed to me, looking out into a sea of angry faces with the only friendly one about to leave me to face the music, I realized how lucky I was.

“It’s not too late to join them,” I told her with a sad smile. “On some level, I deserve all of this.”

She gave me a long, soulful look. “No one deserves to have people boo at them Jason.” She arched an eyebrow. “Even you.”

I twisted my mouth to the side. “Thanks...I think.”

She cracked a smirk. “It’s easy to hate someone you don’t know,” she shared, starting toward the front now. “Let them know you.”

I fiddled with my mic, marinating on that as I headed to the couch, center stage. One of the producers was explaining the process to the audience and getting the crowd hyped. I leaned back into the cushions and let my mind drift to the end goal. Telling my piece.They could believe it or not. Write it off as a marketing ploy. I wouldn’t blame them.

But there was one thing they couldn’t take from me.

I brought my phone back to life and went back to the message thread. Back to Natalee. Her picture made the nerves in my stomach morph from something overwhelming to a whisper.

The picture was one I’d snapped last night. I’d offered to pay for a cleaning service, suggesting we focus on how many times I could make her melt in my mouth before she literally could take no more. Her eyes had sparkled with delight, then went quiet. She took my face in her hands and whispered that she didn’t need me to solve her problems with my wallet. Before I could ask what she needed, she’d brandished an empty trash bag. We cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and when we were done, we curled up on her bed. She dozed off with her head nestled in the crook of my arm. With ninja-like skill, barely moving so I wouldn’t wake her, I snapped a picture of her.

The picture that made me take a deep breath and batten down the hatches.

The woman who’d seen the worst of me; the jerk, the asshole, and still gave me another chance.

There was always hope.

Always a chance for redemption. You just had to fight for-

My internal pep talk was drowned out when the crowd erupted in applause. I expected to see the spunky, technicolor haired host, Veronica Small. Instead, I was joined on stage by the woman of the hour. The woman who’d only seen the worst of me. A woman who was a far cry from the brooding rebellious teenager I knew.

Cassidy played the crowd like a fiddle, her fingers expertly wielding the bow. I didn’t know a lot about fashion, but from the way she glided to the staging area before the crowd (and the way she dusted herself off after our collision) I knew that her ensemble likely cost more than most of the women who were cheering her on could ever hope to afford.

Stop right there.

My inner voice gave me a shake before I continued down that road. Mustered what little energy it would have taken to roll my eyes.

I was missing the point. This wasn’t about Cassidy. Not really. This was about the women in the crowd. My gaze washed over their jubilant faces...and I saw every woman I’d wronged. The women I’d reduced to how they looked, and what they could do for me. Women I stringed along, knowing full well I had no intention of letting them close enough to affect me—but I knew just how to get what I wanted, then toss them aside.

To these women, Cassidy was their champion : she was them. Cassidy was pissed, they were pissed—and finally, a man would be held accountable for his bullshit.

I put aside my phone, ready to face the music. I’d been clinging to the fact that this whole thing was fabricated. That I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I had—and until I could own that fact, nothing else would matter.

Cassidy turned her back to the crowd, a devious smile on her face as she advanced toward me.

“You hear that, Jason?” she crooned. “That sound is vindication.”

I clenched my teeth, but refrained from backtracking. Held tight to my new approach. I said the last thing any of them expected, and I meant it.

“You’re right.”

Cassidy did a double take, her bright eyes darkening suspiciously. “What?”

I raked my hand through my hair and hung my head, preparing for a different kind of raking. I was about to save her the trouble of raking me over the coals.

“I said, you’re right, Cassidy.”

She was on the stage, close enough that she could sit right where they wanted. Far enough away that security could grab her if she decided to pounce on me, to take a swing and turn this into a different kind of show—and close enough that every glare she threw my way would draw blood.

She didn’t sit, hell, she’d even stopped advancing, like she was mentally digesting the person in front of her. It was clear she was geared up for a fight, but I held out my hands in surrender.

“The things that happened between us...” I felt every single dot of the ellipses, emotion brewing in my throat. I wouldn’t bring up the child we lost. Not here. Not out loud. But from her widened gaze, I didn’t need to. I didn’t read too much into the glassy sheen that washed away her anger, because the truth was, I didn’t know her anymore, or what she was capable of...but she didn’t know me either.

I collected myself and sat up taller and pressed on. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t there for you. That I walked away. That I didn’t try harder. I was-”

“An asshole?” someone piped from the audience.

Cassidy’s face was unreadable but she didn’t agree with the outburst, so that was something.

It was on me to do what I never did. To show Cassidy and whoever else cared to look beyond that we weren’t all hopeless, irredeemable jerks.

“I am truly sorry, Cassidy.”

Her chin was shaking like a leaf in the wind and the sheen had officially become a river of tears that raced down her cheeks. A river that may or may not have been snaking down my own cheek.

The crowd was murmuring, looking around in confusion. Cassidy had gone quieter than a library during finals, except for the sniffling.

She took a step toward me and a collective gasp came from the crowd. They were holding their breath. Any moment someone would tell her to slug me. For all that I’d done, all that I didn’t do, I probably deserved it.

Moving forward didn’t mean convincing everyone that what I’d done and what I may have been capable of wasn't that bad. Or 100% true. It was sitting on this stage, and owning my shit—then getting on with my life. Showing the woman that I wish I had beside me that I was more. Because at the end of the day, what came next was what mattered most.

Cassidy licked her lips, her eyes tearing into me. “The show is cancelled.”

I blinked, frowning because I was sure my ears were playing tricks on me. It sounded kinda like Cassidy had just canceled this exclusive roundtable between the billionaire and his fake fiancé.

She didn’t smile or give me any indication that we were cool. Let’s be real: there was too much history, too much bad blood for us to ever get there, but I did get a nod before she wheeled around and shouted into her mic. “I lied about it all, okay! The show is cancelled!”

Well, then.

Her adoring fans turned on her like a dog whose owner had unwisely reached for their food. The roars and boos and hisses were directed at her as she fled from the stage, tearing off her mic, studio people trailing behind, trying to talk sense into her. I followed her route to the door and almost gasped myself when I saw a familiar face.

The only face I wanted to see.

Natalee.

I booked it off the stage myself and made my way to her. The rest faded into the background.

She was waiting at the door, with roses and a smile that made my heart rocket to my throat.

What, how, none of that mattered—I couldn’t stop smiling like a damn fool, and I didn’t care.

“You’re not one for following instructions are you?” I winked.

She crushed the flowers in between us as she gently twisted my head and brought her soft lips to my ear. “I’m pretty good at it sometimes.”

My cock stirred at her comment, remembering every delicious way that she’d proven that when it counted, she could obey—or disobey.

I cupped her cheeks, feeling warmth ripple over me in spades. “I’m a damn lucky man.”

She nodded emphatically, her eyes on my lips, her other arm wrapped around my neck. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Our lips met and a chorus of aww’s reminded me that we had an audience...and my mic was still on.

With forever in my arms and happiness surging through me, I said the words in my heart.

“I love you, Natalee.”

I was risking that she’d go running as far from me and the drama and the gamble of betting on me. On us. But she just held on tighter.

Her lips grazed mine, her olive eyes shining with the words that fell from her lips. “I love you too.” She put a hand over my mic, her smile turning mischievous. “Let’s get out of here.”

We headed out into the sun, together, a future filled with possibilities stretching before us.

The bad ass businesswoman and the billionaire jerk (who had his moments).

A woman and man in love.

*

Thank you for taking the time to read The Sweetest Jerk #3! Please consider leaving a review. xoxo, AC