Act Two
“Paris France is to Love, what Haute Couture is toFashion.”
Joslyn Westbrook
Chapter 26
Jaxson
Asshole.
Simon is a fucking asshole. The next time I see him, I’m punching him in theface.
How could he hurt Lauren like that? Hell, how can he do that shit to hiswife?
Lauren and Truffles are all settled in my guest apartment; they’re welcome to stay as long as they like. I don’t blame her for not wanting to be at her own place right now. I understand how it is to realize you’ve fallen for aliar.
He used her. How far would he have gone with her?Jerk.
Hopefully after a goodnight’s rest, she’ll feel okay, even though I know better thanthat.
I shower, slip into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then mosey on into the kitchen for a drink. A bottle of sparkling wine from one of Gramps’s collection. He left me a few bottles. Fifty, to be exact. A hefty start to my own wine collection. I pop the cork, take a whiff, and pour myself a full glass of thebubbly.
Mmmm.Nirvana.
A tap at the door startles me.Lauren?
I walk to the door, push the curtain to the side, and see Lauren, one hand gripping her suitcase handle, Truffles cupped under her arm, both of themshivering.
Immediately, I swing the door open. “What’swrong?”
She gives a half-smile. “Can we stay here,instead?”
Both her and Truffles serve me an irresistible set of puppy-dogeyes.
“Is there something wrong with the guestapartment?”
“Never mind. It was silly of me to ask.” She spins back around, begins to walk toward theapartment.
“Lauren, wait.” I follow after her, my bare feet hitting the coldconcrete.
She whirls around. “I-I just don’t want to be alone, Jaxson. I’m tired of beingalone.”
Tears stream down her face and for once I see Lauren’s tough facade come crumbling down. It’s far more than Simon—he is just thecoup de grace. The mortal blow to an already existing wound. The final push that sends her over theedge.
I’m here to break herfall.
“Come on, I’ve got plenty of space. Of course you and Truffles can stay in thevilla.”
I let her choose a room, one that has furniture, of course. She picks a room closest to the kitchen, one equipped with a full-size bed and an adjoiningbathroom.
I turn to leave her to get settled and she says, “I didn’t pack any pajamas. I only grabbed other stuff and clothes forwork.”
“Okay, I’ll give you something of mine. Will a T-shirt and sweatpants do? They may be a little big on youthough.”
She smiles. “That’ll work, thankyou.”
About an hour later,Lauren joins me in the kitchen, the tantalizing scent of bacon and eggs most likely enticingher.
