Jack Who?

CHAPTER 26

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PRACTICALLY VAULTING THE arm of the couch in one of those stage moves that she recognized from watching videos of Jackal, Jack crossed the room to the kitchen bar. He returned directly back with the envelope in question. Holding the note visible to both of them, he silently read her handwriting:

     'I've missed five years of his life. And they were hard years for him–'

     'You are a good mother.'

     "Pretty sure right here I said 'the best.'" Pointing at that particular part, he tipped a smile.

     'I know my life is not the life for him. I would stop touring. Am probably about to do that anyway. Changes in my band. Many meetings.'

     'Don't want six states between me and Tristan. Don't know what to do.'

     'So much time wasted. I want it all.'

     At last, he spoke again. "The important part is the last part."

     Her nerves were so coiled that a loud buzz had begun in her ears like when pregnancy had caused spells of high blood pressure.

     "I was trying to tell you that I've become greedy with this whole father thing."

     For a few silent seconds, his gaze rested on the paper and then it fell on her face. The eyes she looked into were as dark and sweet as the chocolate she always mentally likened them to, and when he spoke, they glistened.

     "I was trying to say that I want our son. And his mother too."

     Her mind went into motion, processing faster than the processor of the laptop on the desk, which caught her panicked gaze. At last, she was brave enough to return her look to Jack's eyes as he continued.

     "When I met you, when we–"

     When Jack paused here unable to find what he thought were the right words for their fevered liaison in a tour bus bunk, she felt the familiar warmth that even after all of these years, flooded her senses when she let herself go there.

     "Mariss, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And the 'what ifs.' What if we went out, what if we were meant to be. But my band was taking off like crazy. Then, every time I would be so insane that I was going to come see you or do something about what I was feeling, something would happen that kept me busy, kept me too tired to think. And you would go to the back of my mind where it was easier to deal."

     The paper fell to the table as he stood and paced a few steps.

     "Then after a few months, I couldn't shake you out of my head. The tour was over. I had downtime." In an unconscious action, he picked up a photo of Tristan before returning it to the shelf. "I ended up asking you to come out." Loosely he referred to LA. "I didn't even know I was going to ask you. It just came out."

     Her mind went back to that night with remembrance of how surprised she had been, and her thoughts whipped around as his words sank in. He had felt as connected as she had from the start.

     Jack's eyes held unwaveringly on her face. "I thought you felt the same way, and a part of me didn't care if you did. Because if you didn't, I thought I could talk you into seeing me just because of who I was. Then I could trip you, make you fall for me."

     Hearing this sentence made her wonder if he even realized he spoke in verses of his songs sometimes.

     "But you dissed me hard." A wry grimace played on his lips. "I never got over you. That you wouldn't come."

     "You know now why I didn't though..."

     Nodding, he continued, and his words came in short sentences. "I'm into my music. But not into the lifestyle. Not anymore. Lately, I'm in burnout. I hate the road. And I hate going home. To an empty house." He looked to her. "And you fall back into my life—complete as a family. And I began thinking 'what if' again."

     Already following his random pacing and trying to follow his random words, she watched, transfixed by the emotion feeding the fervor in his words. What if. What if what? Her heart pounded.

     He moved a couple of steps closer, then stilled, his eyes still holding hers. "Whatever is going on between you and me, it's happening fast for me. I've never felt like this so fast. Hell, I've never felt like this."

     Dropping to sit on the sofa table, he locked onto her gaze again, and when he seemed to wait, she assured, "It's happening fast for me too." That was an understatement. It, whatever it was, had happened hard to her too. "So fast, it scares me."

     "Don't be scared." Lifting his hand, he sifted through the hair that fell over her shoulder, and the pad of his thumb stroked her bottom lip. "Okay?"

     The gesture and voice tone was so sweet and reassuring. Her throat felt clogged, and she could only nod. Her look fell to the swirl of ink on his arm, and he dropped his hand. Both elbows rested on his jeans, and he closed his fingers around hers.

     There was something more to come. His gaze was serious, so serious, she was terrified, even though he'd just had her totally trusting in him, in her, in whatever this thing was they were caught up in.

     "Mariss?"

     'What?' is what she meant to say, but her voice only croaked.

     "I think I love you." There was the slightest pause before he rushed on. "I know I love you. And the other day, I was on my knees about to pop the question..."

     "What?" This time the word was a clear surprised whisper when he fell silent, and she blinked, needing the assurance that she had not fallen into one of her fantasies. LOVE? And what question? THE question?

     Shifting over, he sank to the sofa.

     "I was. Remember I knelt beside you? And, I don't know how it got so screwed up. What did happen in the screw up was I came to my senses. I know it was an impulse thing."

     Before she could fully feel hurt from that last statement, he explained, "I do want to marry you. But I know we need to work out a relationship between us before. We need to stop doing things backward."

     Backward had brought her Tristan, and she would never regret that. But she knew what he meant. She had been ready to dive into marriage with just one kiss outside Tristan's hospital room–to scheme and do whatever she needed to do to accomplish it, and that had been irrational and wrong.

     "I've done the same thing with the 'what ifs.'" The confession spilled out, and now she was the one staring at the floor as she thought over her words. "For so many years. Felt fated to you somehow. Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep at night, I would imagine us as a family. I felt like I knew you before you even came to the hospital that day."

     Having confessed her fantasies, she went on to divulge her humiliation. "And then, that day on the phone that you disconnected our call, I didn't know that guy. You were not who I thought you were. After that, I guess in the back of my head I was always afraid that guy would show himself again."

     Her gaze searchingly sought his, and before she could speak again, he did.

     "I don't know why I say the shit I do sometimes. I don't know that guy either. Unfortunately, I have to live with his screw ups." Playing in her hair, he softly said, "I don't want you to be one of those things I screwed up."

     "I'm not. I'm one of those things I screwed up."

     "You're not. You're not, Mariss."

     Her heart pounded as always when his head closed the space to hers. The kiss was tender and sweet, and before it could fuse into fire, he pulled slightly back but maintained contact with his fingertips massaging the back of her neck.

     "I had this plan kind of. But tell me what you think, okay?"

     Warily, her shields went up against this plan since he had used almost the same words in the exercise room concerning Tristan's custody.

     "I need to be in LA for another six months at least. At max, a year. But I don't want to be away from you guys anymore. The week I left the hospital seemed like a year. Can you and Tristan move to LA? And then after that, we can move back somewhere closer to here if you want."

     A surge of emotions and questions shocked through her. "Are you still asking me to marry you?" The query was bold, but she was tired of the confusion.

     He had trust issues. She had avoidance issues. Issues she wanted to be done with.

     "I'm asking if you want to get married one day. Because I know I want to marry you. But we need to build a relationship. And, your proposal should be spectacular. So this is not it."

     She couldn't help it. She laughed at the absurdity. But the solemn, loving look in those dark eyes, as well as the devout expression, made his non-proposal work.

     "Are you laughing because you're happy? Or because I'm a stupid jackas–"

     "Jack! Don't ruin this by cursing. I'll always look back on this as my real proposal."

     "Not after you experience the real proposal." The promise was accompanied by that lift of his dark brows and the smirky expression she knew so well and loved– the look she always wanted to kiss off his face.

     And she did.

     "So?"

     Her back was on the sofa, and he came up from that epic kiss long enough to toss that one syllable word and punctuate it with another touch of his lips to hers.

     "So what?"

     It wasn't coy. She had no idea what he was going on about. While waiting for her answer, he propped on his forearms and unwittingly pulled one of Tristan's shirts from inside the sofa. Throwing it aside, he placed his lips just beneath her ear.

     "Are you guys coming back with me to LA Friday?"

     "Friday?"

     Pushing up enough to stare into her face again, he searched her eyes, and she pushed his hair from her eyes.

     "I have this thing I have to go to. Album drop party. But if you can't go, I can take the 'lingerina'– "

     The wrestling match ended with him finding the second of Tristan's shirts in the couch and playfully using it as a chokehold.

     "Okay. Yes. I'm there." Making a production of coughing out the answer, she grabbed the shirt when he released it from her neck and slapped at him with it. "Thought these things took background checks. Can you get a background check in a day?"

     "I could if I really wanted. But, I don't have to. It's already done."

     "You snooped me?"

     This felt like more of a violation than internet stalking on a gossip site. A background check involved credit and finances. Still, she should have expected it would happen after calling up out of nowhere claiming to be the mother of his son. She learned different with his next words.

     "I had my lawyer put it in motion the other day and put a rush on it. So that you could start going to stuff with me."

     Right there and then, her heart exploded with love, and she pulled him down expressing it in one passionate kiss. Even while they had been fighting, not speaking, he had seen the problem as temporary. He had still seen a future with her.

     She could never get enough of just kissing him; could never imagine a day even years down the road, that she would not want her lips to his, the tease of their tongues.

     But she didn't mind when his attention strayed lower.

     Her fingers clenched in his hair as he divided that attention equally, unequally, she wasn't sure. All she knew was each swirl of his tongue or tug of his teeth felt more fiery than the previous.

     Her shirt bunched beneath her arms, her bra hung unclipped, and her jeans vee'd open, but she stopped the hook of his hands at the waistband.

     "We're parents not hook ups..."

     It didn't make sense. She was trying to say that Tristan was stealthier than usual these days now that he did not lean on his crutches as much. However, she was incapable of a sensible sentence with him doing that...proving with a finger that clothes were no barrier...

     Lifting his head enough that she could see the smirk she loved, he reworded, "We are parents hooking up." With that, she was pulled to her feet, and when her strides were not fast enough, scooped into his arms and carried to the bedroom.

     Bridal style.

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