Page 180 of First in Line

“Cyn, I’m not sure.”

“I am. And even if you don’t end up meeting up with him, it’ll be a nice girls’ trip to Sin City. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Crap… It’s pretty clear she won’t take no for an answer. “I promise I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Fine. But I actually might fire you if you refuse. Not even kidding.”

“You would never,” I dismissively say with a shrug. “Who else would help you find spots for bathrooms and handle the Mrs. Carters of this world?”

I know I have a point when she doesn’t double down on her threat.

We’re still talking about it as we step out of the building together. After wishing each other a good weekend, we head to our respective cars. Once I’m in mine, I don’t start the engine immediately, staring at the wheel for a moment.

I was hoping I’d been a little more discreet in my despair. But of course, Cynthia saw right through me. Along with others, apparently. It’s hard not to appear affected when everything hurts so much.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest.

None of this has changed how much I love Jax. If anything, distance has made it worse.

Because now there’s space for me to miss everything. The sound of his laugh. His scent after his workouts. The way he steals bites off my plate even after insisting he isn’t hungry. The warmth of his body at night. The way he saysprincesslike the word belongs to me alone.

I reach for my phone before remembering there’s no reason to text him. No reason except wanting him.

Maybe that’s the cruelest part of maturing. Realizing love alone can’t fix incompatibility. Can’t erase grief. Can’t magically make two people fit together just because they desperately wish they did.

I love Jackson Reyes more than I have ever loved anything in my life.

But loving him and belonging in his world are two completely different things.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

Jackson

Igrab my keys and check the time on my phone. I mumble a curse and head downstairs. I’m late again. And it’s Monday, so I can’t afford that. I have a train to take to Paris for a day of F1 simulations. Mark’s going to give me another sermon about discipline and the importance of being on time.

Evie is seated at the high counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, which is where we usually eat. She’s finishing her breakfast, two pieces of baguette with butter and strawberry jam, which she dips in a mug that’s more milk than coffee.

“I have to rush, I’m late,” I tell her, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. “Oh, I saw you were out of sleeping pills. Do you want me to take your prescription and get you a refill?”

“No, I’m okay.”

I’m already by the door that leads to the garage when she says, “Jackson, wait.”

I stop and turn around, looking at her get down from her stool and walk to me. Consciously, I have no idea what this is about. But my subconscious must have caught on, because I can feel the way my heartbeat hastens just a little.

There’s something determined about her, like she’s made a decision. Like she knows what she needs to do now.

Completely immobile, I watch her come so close her body touches mine, her pretty hazel eyes looking up at me through her lashes. Something in them unravels me. She hasn’t looked at me like this for five months. Not since the day I returned from Melbourne in a rush.

Then she slips a hand around my neck, soft, gentle. Encouraging. I follow its timid lead and bend down as she stretches up.

The moment our lips touch, a powerful and overwhelming sensation wrecks me, coursing through my whole body. She hasn’t done this either since that day. Kissed me of her own volition. I’ve received no more than a few grazes, sometimes accidental. We haven’t even slept together since, because she moved to the guest room and never came back.

But now she’s kissing me. A long, sweet kiss. And I’m too fucking stunned to register it properly before she pulls away.

“Have a good day at work, Jax,” she says, a modest smile bending the corners of her lips.