Jackson showed up the next morning after our perfect day in Holland with two coffees in hand. I narrowed my eyes at the sight of him on my doorstep before I opened the door.
“Bold,” I said as I crossed my arms.
After we nearly kissed last night, I couldn’t believe he’d even dare to show his face here again.
“Actually, it’s a medium roast,” he said as he held a coffee out for me.
How could he be making jokes right now? I wanted to punch the coffee cup right out of his hand, but that stupid small part of my heart still just wanted to kiss him. How could I have such strong feelings that were so polar opposite? The devil wasn’t just sitting on my shoulder, he was buried deep in my chest, scratching and clawing, telling me to say and do whatever I wanted.
I ripped the coffee from his hands and tried to shut the door on him, but he stuck a hand out to stop it.
“Can we talk?” Jackson asked.
“No. There’s nothing to talk about,” I said as I tried to shut the door again. He pushed back harder. For a split second I almost lost my mind and threw the coffee at him.
“Addison—” Jackson started to say, and I gave up the fight at the way he said it, stepping back and causing him to almost faceplant inside. He caught his bearings and I turned around to walk into the family room.
I started getting the paint supplies ready. That was the only task I had to get through today; finish painting this room, and then I didn’t have to deal with Jackson or our baggage anymore.
“Will you look at me?” Jackson asked.
“Jackson, please for the love of god, just stop talking to me. Can we just paint? That’s all I need you for right now, okay? Can you just do that?” My voice was laced in venom, and I hoped he felt every word like a sting.
He looked at me for a while, clenching and unclenching one of his fists. I almost dared him to say what he wanted, but I gave him a look that I hoped conveyed how much I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice. After a moment he looked up at the ceiling, then gave in to my request.
“Fine,” he whispered before setting down his coffee and pulling his phone out of his pocket.
I knew he was starting a playlist, and after he chose his songs, he tossed the phone to me. No risk of our hands touching.
I caught it and swiped up on the screen. He didn’t even have a passcode. He was one stupid motherfucker. I picked a song, and anotification dropped down that said he had multiple missed calls from Sophie.
“You have like, five missed calls from Sophie,” I said as I chose more songs, pressing harder than I had to against the screen. “You should probably call her back.”
I threw the phone back to him, smacking him directly in the chest, but he caught it before it fell to the floor.
“I just talked to her last night.”
After he almost cheated on her with me. I wanted to hate him so badly.
I took a quick sip of the coffee, and screw Jackson, because it was delicious.
“So, how is she doing?” I forced myself to ask. I picked up a paintbrush, chipping off a piece of dried paint with my fingernail.
“I have a question,” Jackson said, ignoring my own question.
I rolled my eyes so he could see my annoyance.
“What’s that?” I asked as I dipped the brush into the paint.
“What’s your plan after this is done?”
I turned away from him. I was quiet for a little while as I started to paint the wall. I didn’t have a plan. My mind was a mess of complicated thoughts. Wren was almost positive she didn’t need me to nanny Mia anymore, so I would have to find a new job. I could keep this house, live in it—and then, what? What would I do here? I had no one. Or I could sell it, and use the money to do whatever I wanted. I could start over again if I wanted to, somewhere new just like before. Somewhere Jacksonwasn’t.
I didn’t want to admit all that, so I said, “Sell it. Go back to North Carolina.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jackson said softly. How dare he act like he cared at all?
I finally turned to face him. “And you can go back to your fiancée. Happily ever after.” I tried to look mad, but we both knew it was a mask.
