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“I have no idea. My brother isn’t exactly predictable, and even if he was, this is uncharted territory for him. Go home. Max can take you. Maybe he’s gone there.”
“He won’t be there. He didn’t seem like he wanted to see me any time soon. But I have an idea. It just doesn’t include you, Max. Jackson, did you bring your bike?”
“Um… Yes? Why?” He hesitantly answered.
“Give me your keys.” I didn’t even wait for his reply before turning my attention to my phone, immediately sending Matt a text.
It was low and petty, but I couldn’t give a fuck right now. The way I see it, this was the only way I could reach him. Make him come to me, even if it’s to ask me how stupid I can be to ditch my shadows at a time like this.
Me: Stole a bike. Might be a little too drunk to drive it but I don’t care. I’ll see you at home, Husband.
Jackson threw me the keys to his motorbike, and I was darting to the door before I could blink.
“What are you doing, Francesca?” Max asked, his expression laced with apprehension, shooting me a frozen warning glare. But it had no effect on me on a good day. Never mind right now, while I was sure I had to beat my husband home in a race against my pride and his stubbornness. Still, I knew he'd come because my safety was at stake.
“I’m going home,” I replied. “I need to make sure my man still wants me back.”
Chapter 31
Francesca
Jackson’s bike was parked just outside the club, almost in front of the door. I looked down at my skimpy dress and high heels, wondering how the hell I was ever going to be able to sit on a motorbike in them.
There was no time for excuses now. I went back to the door, asking Mike if he had a pocket knife or something.
Luckily, he did. I cut a slit in the fabric so I could at least open my legs wide enough to get on the bike. The damn thing tore right up to my hip bone as soon as I swung my leg over the seat.
I raced home like a maniac, trying to get there before Matt did. I had no idea where he was, but I knew he’d head home after that text. If there was one thing I could rely on, it was Matt’s obsession with my safety.
I revved the engine as I pulled away from the club, going over the speed limit and never looking back. It was a good thing that it was past one in the morning already, or swerving traffic would have either slowed me down or made this trip a whole lot more dangerous.
I wanted to get home before he did so I wouldn’t risk Matt not finding me and leaving.
The first damn red light made me stop. My anxiety shooting to the stars as I waited for it to turn.
The sense of void I was feeling earlier was now replaced by overwhelming anxiety. My heart was tight again, so much so that I could physically feel it compressed in my chest. It was like I had this huge monster sitting on top of me, tormenting me and playing with my darkest fears.
Would he listen?
Would he understand?
Would he forgive me?
Another red light.
My feelings were all over the place as I made my way through the city. I tried to box them into compartments, trying to understand them. Why was I feeling this way?
That was the easiest question. First, all that fucked-up shit that just happened in the club, all the hurt and jealousy I saw in Matt’s eyes.
Feelings hardly ever know logic. Does Matt have the right to feel this way after everything? Probably not. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and if it wants to fuck with your head, it will.
Matt is possessive, I knew that, but what was really weighing on him right now was those three words he said and I didn’t say back.
He gave me time, but that was logic and a clear head speaking. Jealousy is nothing but insecurity and uncertainty, and Matt had no reason to feel that way other than maybe because of me. Because of my stupid fears.
Another red light.
Second, I needed to tell him the truth. That he was on my mind. No. Scratch that. He was always on my mind. He was always in my heart. Every time I looked at him, my stomach fluttered. I couldn’t deal with the possibility that I had jeopardized what I have with Matt over some stupid misunderstanding.
