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If I saw anything short of dismissiveness in my mother's eyes, I was a goner. When she shut off the water and looked at me, all I saw was love.

I swiped at my cheeks, sniffing. "My allergies have been killing me lately."

Mom knew me well enough to keep her distance and play along. Poorly. "Uh huh. I've got some Claritin in my purse if you need some."

"What I need is some common sense," I groaned. I stepped over garbage and leaned against the counter, eyeballing my clean up list that I had to tackle before my roommate got back. A welcome distraction from everything else. "Even if he's not lying and this whole thing with this other woman is bullshit, I'm just asking for trouble dating someone like him. Someone filthy rich. Someone so gorgeous that I'm gonna spend my life trying to keep women like you at bay." I paused long enough to give her a full-on grin. She responded by sticking her tongue out at me, and all was right in our world.

Unfortunately, I'd opened the can of worms and all my insecurities kept pouring from my lips. "He's going to get bored with me. I'm not fancy. I'm stubborn. And he's stubborn too. And such a smart ass." My heart stuttered in my chest when I pictured his jaw locked, that look in his eye that he wouldn’t budge. That look that made me want to pound his chest with my fists...and tear off all his clothes.

"If any man has the honor of being chosen by you and walks away, he's a fucking idiot." She said it simply, dusting off her hands and taking a gulp of her water. She swallowed and added, "Besides, it sounds like you're not worried about him leaving. You're worried about what happens if he stays. What you'll have to give." Even though she was just drinking water, she cringed like she was drinking something harder. "Being vulnerable is the scariest thing you'll ever do...and the most rewarding."

I wanted to shrug off her fortune cookie wisdom, but it rang true. It echoed in my chest and reached down in to the darkest parts of me and shined a light on my biggest fear.

It wasn't that the tabloids were right. Jason had shown me over and over that he wasn't going anywhere. It was what came next. The words that would strip me naked, and not in the way that we did so well. Emotionally bare and exposed. Heart on my sleeve. Weak.

And still, I couldn't admit it to myself.

I reached over and stole a gulp of her water. "Well, none of that matters because he's in the rich part of town, holed up himself."

Another knock sounded and I bounded over to answer the door, pulling it open without looking, sure it was an Amazon order I'd forgotten about.

I gasped when I realized that I was face to face with someone.

Someone that wasn't delivering a package.

Or in the rich part of town, holed up.

Jason Cox was standing in my doorway.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: JASON

Nothing will ever be the same.

Those words weren't written on the banners that were scattered through Martin Prep, congratulating the seniors on the impending graduation. The yearbooks hadn't been passed out, the final pages lamenting that we'd never haunt these halls again; parties would be upgraded from undercover things when parents were on vacation to keggers in dorm rooms and frat houses. The timer was on, ticking away until youthful indiscretion would no longer fly; until trust funds were obliterated. Then we'd settle down with women that looked good on paper, teeth glittering in the society pages—and the vicious cycle would continue.

My eyes dropped to her belly, then tiptoed back to her gaze. Those words were right there in the blue. And it had nothing to do with graduation. Truth be told, I think both of us stopped thinking about diplomas and freshman year at Ivy Leagues when that plastic stick changed our lives forever.

Even though we were in the den (my call, to usher her away from my mother's piercing, judgmental glare), the sound of a woman I knew had never done a dish in her life cut through the silence. Porcelain and glass clanged together, wooden doors slammed shut echoing through my bones, a hollow reminder that there was no such thing as privacy in this house. No corners left to hide away secrets. And in a month, she wouldn't be able to hide the curve of her belly, either.

I knew that my mother paused long enough to crane her head in our direction, hoping for a whiff of our conversation. Hell, I was surprised she hadn't installed a camera in here. To keep an eye on me. To monitor Dad's porn consumption when he locked himself in here for hours on end.

I smiled to myself when I was the one making the noise, slamming our door shut. Picturing the indignant flare of my mother's nostrils.

I wheeled back to Cassidy and my smile evaporated. Not even thinking, forgetting that letting my guard down was what put us in this mess in the first place, I gripped her shoulders, my eyes searching hers. Eyes that used to make me feel like I was the best thing that ever happened to her. That made me want to admit that she was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now, they just looked tired. Too tired to even look at me.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out funny. Too rough. Too filled with the distance that I'd put between us when she told me about the...

The...

I swallowed and pretended like it wasn't still impossible for me to say the word. "Talk to me."

That garnered a reaction, the blue gold in her eyes flashing like lightning. "We were never very good at talking, Jason. That was kind of the problem."

I locked my jaw, the smirk that came so easy curving my lips. Remembering those moments, when we spent hours exploring each other's mouths, each other's bodies, was definitely better than hanging out in the present. "I don't remember you doing too much complaining."

She pushed me backward with both hands, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Complaining to you is a waste of breath. I tell you that morning sickness is a bitch, you bring me a ginger ale. I tell you my back hurts? A day at the spa. Groan about my swollen feet? Brand new slippers."

I cocked my head to the side like I was missing some key piece of information that would make everything click into place. "You're mad at me because I tried to make you feel better?"

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