Chapter Twelve

GEORGE WAS RIGHT, strategizing about the Posen interview had kept Laney’s mind busy enough to keep thoughts of Jackson and Bryce at bay for the rest of the afternoon. The problem was, it was only seven o’clock and she was walking down a busy New York street with nothing to keep her mind from circling around the two men. Normally, she’d stop by NightCaps and have a drink with Jackson, and then she’d meet Bryce, if he wasn’t working late, and if he was, then she’d hang out with Jackson longer.

Or she’d go home with Jackson.

She stopped in middle of the sidewalk, causing a collision of complaints behind her as people walked around her, turning and scowling over their shoulders.

Go ahead and scowl. Nothing you do will make me feel any worse than I already do!

There in the center of the busy sidewalk, with throngs of people moving past, oblivious to the war going on in her heart and her head, she contemplated her life. What the hell was she doing? What did she really want? How had she gone from wanting no commitments to wanting one from Jackson? Jackson, the least likely man on earth to ever commit.

Her phone rang and her heart skipped a beat with hope that it was Jackson. She pulled it from her purse and felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Bryce’s name on the screen. She sent the call to voicemail and headed home.

She wasn’t desperate to be married so why wasn’t she cutting Bryce loose?

She rode the elevator up to her one-bedroom apartment. Jackson had offered to help her pay for a bigger place, but Laney loved the character of her cozy apartment. There were aged hardwood floors throughout, and she loved that the bedroom door was built on an angle off of the living room and that one of the living room walls was brick. She dropped her purse by the door and walked to the living room windows, which were nearly floor-to-ceiling and overlooked the busy street. Her apartment might not be glamorous, and it might not have a guest room, but the only guest she ever had over was Jackson, and they were always in the same room together anyway. When he was watching a movie, she was right next to him, and when she got the flu and was stuck in bed for two days, Jackson stayed right beside her, reading to her and telling her stupid stories to take her mind off of being sick.

She went into the bedroom, which was barely big enough for her bed. She kept her dresser in the closet and hung her clothes in the foyer closet. She undressed at the foot of her bed, remembering how Jackson had held her when the chills had gotten so bad that she couldn’t stop shivering. He didn’t care that he might get sick—which he did, two days later. He only cared that she felt safe and warm.

She put on a pair of sweatpants and grabbed a T-shirt from the drawer. She looked down at the oversized shirt and sighed. Jackson’s, of course.

She walked into the bathroom and washed her face, remembering that bout with the flu. She’d thrown up and missed the toilet, and Jackson had cleaned it up without complaint, and the next time she got sick, he held her hair back. Bryce had never even spent the night at her apartment. He said it made him feel claustrophobic.  

She could live anywhere with Jackson. That much she knew. But what good was knowing that when he was fighting what she knew in her heart was the right thing for both of them? The only right thing for both of them.

She went to the freezer in search of mint chocolate chip ice cream, comfort food. The ice cream container was on its side. Another Jackson reminder. He tossed the damn thing in the freezer as if it were a basketball. It was one of their running jokes. And another reminder of how different Bryce was from Jackson. His freezer was practically alphabetized.

Ice cream for dinner. Sweatpants.

Perfect. I’ve given up on life.

She shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, and as her eyes dropped to her silent cell phone, the silence of the apartment amplified and pissed her off. Erica Lane did not give up on life. She was not a quitter.

Laney picked up the cell phone and pressed Bryce’s speed-dial number.

“Erica. Did you get the flowers I sent?”

His first question was fishing for a thank-you? Oh, hell. I never did say thank you. She’d left the flowers at work, too. If that didn’t tell her how little they meant, then the emptiness in her heart at that very moment did.

“Yes, they’re gorgeous. Thank you.” She heard the flatness of her tone and wondered if he did, too.

“Club 21 sound good to celebrate this weekend?” He sounded so confident, so damn happy, that she knew he hadn’t picked up on her tone.

Laney sighed. “Actually, I was thinking that I’d—” She stopped herself. She didn’t want to go to his apartment. She didn’t want to go to anyone. The hell with him not liking her apartment or feeling confined. It was time for her to do what was right for her—regardless of what the men in her life thought that was. “Can you come by so we can talk?”

“Uh…yeah…sure,” he stammered.

He obviously wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for her answer, which upset and relieved her at once.

***

IT WAS MIDNIGHT and NightCaps was still crawling with single women looking for a good time—exactly what Jackson thought he needed to forget the fact that Laney hadn’t returned his text. And to forget what an asshole he’d been to her. And to forget that he was trying to forget her.

He sucked back his third drink, knowing he hadn’t had enough to drink, because in his mind he was looking for Laney. His eyes trailed over his potential pickups. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. All there for the taking, and every one of them made his gut clench tight. It wasn’t their looks that turned him off, or the way they licked their lips or thrust out their perky breasts, as if they were offering themselves up for a quick fuck. They were pretty enough, flirty enough, and looked easy enough for a night of forgetting everything else in the world. But what they weren’t, and what they could never be, was Laney.

There was no pushing thoughts of Laney aside or pretending that he could ever have another casual relationship with any other woman, because Laney had ruined that for him. He couldn’t even jerk off last night without seeing her face—and then he couldn’t do it because he’d hurt her so badly that it was her sad eyes he’d seen.

He’d thought of her every damn second of the day—unable to work, unable to so much as sift through photographs without his mind reverting back to the silent car ride home. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept well since he’d found out about the proposal, and hadn’t slept a wink since they’d returned to the city. There was no denying his feelings for her, and right now that was about the only thing in this world that he was certain of.

He slapped a handful of money on the bar, and Dylan looked at him with a knowing grin as he picked up the bills.

“Giving up?” Dylan asked.

“I never give up.” Jackson rose to his feet. “But I am done with this bullshit. I’m going to get my woman.”

“That’s what I meant, smart-ass. Giving up on the find-me-a-blonde-for-the-night shit, which we all know is just code for find-me-a-woman-to-make-me-stop-thinking-of-Erica.”

With a scowl meant to shut him the fuck up rather than confirm what they both knew was true, Jackson left the bar and headed straight to the convenience store to buy a gallon of ice cream. At least if she turned him away, she’d have something to enjoy when he was gone.

Twenty minutes later he paced the hallway outside her apartment door, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say. Everything sounded lame, rehearsed, and not at all like it would come out of his mouth.

Fuck it.

He could do only so much. Be so much. He had to trust his gut that whatever came out of his mouth would be the right thing to say—even though it rarely was.

Fuck.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock, her door swung open and he came face-to-face with Bryce. Anger he hadn’t realized was curled in his gut like a fist unfurled and blazed like fire.

“You.” Bryce seethed. His face was red, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

“Ricker.” He shifted his eyes to Laney, huddled on the couch with her feet beneath her, her eyes wet with tears as she met his gaze over her shoulder. “What the fuck did you do?” He shouldered past Bryce, dropping the ice cream to the floor, and went to Laney.

“What the fuck did I do?” Bryce snapped.

Jackson released Laney from his embrace and rose to his full height with the challenge in Bryce’s voice. He closed the distance between them as Bryce said, “I treated her like a lady while you treated her like a whore—and apparently that’s what she’d rather be—”

Jackson’s fist connected with Bryce’s jaw, sending him sprawling against the wall.

“Jackson!” Laney sprang off the couch and grabbed his arm. “Don’t!”

Bryce held up both hands in front of his face with fear in his eyes. Blood dripped down his chin from a split in his lip.

“Don’t, Jackson. Please,” Laney pleaded.

Jackson stepped in so close to Bryce’s trembling face that he could practically taste the blood on his mouth.

“If you ever use that word in connection with Laney again, I’ll kill you.”

Bryce’s eyes shot to Laney. “You two deserve each other.”

Jackson grabbed him by the collar and slammed his back up against the wall. “You’re damn right we do, and don’t you ever forget it. She’s too much woman for you. Hell, a rag doll is too much woman for you.” He shoved him out the door and turned to Laney, gathering her in close.

“You hit him.” The surprise in her voice startled him.

He drew back and searched her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I saw you, and then he said that shit…Laney, you can’t marry him. I know I don’t deserve you—I have never committed to a single damn woman—except for you. I’ve stayed true to our pact, Laney. For thirteen years. That has to count for something.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and he pressed his lips to hers.

“Please, let me finish. All I know is that I’m capable of loving only one woman, Laney, and that’s you. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I want you to have the future you deserve, but I want to be the man who gives it to you. And I’m sorry it took some other guy’s proposal for me to get that, but, hell, Laney.” His shoulders fell forward with the admission. “That’s all I’ve got. My heart belongs to you. You either want it or you don’t.”

She opened her mouth again, fresh tears in her eyes, and he kissed her to silence her again, needing to say one more thing.

“I don’t have a ring to give you, and I don’t always say or do the right things, but I love you, Laney. God, do I love yo—”

She pressed her lips to his, silencing him this time.

“I told Bryce I loved you, Jackson. I can’t marry him, or any other man. There’s only you.” She dropped her eyes to the ice cream container on the floor. “And ice cream. There’s always ice cream.”

He sealed his lips over hers, and their bodies melted together with all the passion and all the longing they’d both been holding back. He took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.

Laney stopped cold and dropped his hand before they even reached the bedroom door. Jackson’s heart stilled.

Her lips quirked up and mischief filled her eyes. “Ice cream,” she whispered with a devilish grin as she bent to retrieve the container from the floor.

“Now you’re thinking.” He pulled her in close and kissed her again. “Let’s call in sick tomorrow and head down to the courthouse so I can marry you before you change your mind.” He had no idea where the words had come from, but hell if they didn’t feel right. He wasn’t taking any more chances, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the woman he loved get scooped up by some other asshole. He was her asshole, and he was damn proud of it.

She smiled, and it breathed life into his heart, lungs, and soul.

As he gazed into her eyes, she said, “No courthouse wedding. I want to get married in your backyard and say our vows where we first fell in love.”

He touched his lips to hers. “You’ve known I’ve loved only you all this time, haven’t you?”

“Everyone has, Jackson, except you.” She reached for him again and said, “Let’s call in sick anyway and stay in bed all day. You can show me how you’ve known it all this time, too.”

He swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. “Oh, my dirty, dirty girl. I do love you.”

 

—The End—

 

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