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“Alittle help, please?”
“Shit,Selena.”Jacksonmutters behind me.Idon’t know why the man is even here, but the least he can do for me is pull up my zipper.
IfeelJackson’shands on me finally, pulling the two sides of the fabric closed and then tugging the little gold zipper up the back of my dress.
“Thanks,”Imutter, before leaning down to pull the straps of my platform sandals around my heels and shoving my ass up in the air again.
“Readynow?” he demands.
WhenIturn back around to face him, he’s clenching his hands into fists at his sides.Whatis his deal?It’slike he ate rage cookies for breakfast instead of his usual egg whites, greens, and protein.He’sthe one who insisted that we keep pretending to date.Itried to walk away and make a clean break.
“Nope,”Itell him with a smug smile. “Ineed to brush my hair and touch up my makeup.Probablygoing to be a while.”
“Youhave three minutes,”Jacksongrits out.
Didhe clench his teeth this much before?Ifhe did,Inever noticed.It’sprobably not good for his teeth.Iwonder if his dentist gives him crap about it?Probablynot.Noone seems to giveJacksonWaterscrap.ExceptLilyand his family.Andnow me.Thatmakes me smile.Ifthere’s one short listI’mhappy to be on, it’s that one.
LikeI’mmoving in slow motion,Ipull the satin scrunchie from my hair and then shake my head so that waves of dark hair fall from my messy bun down over my shoulders.ThenIbrush, counting from one to two hundred.WheredidIget the idea thatI’msupposed to brush my hair two hundred times before it’s done?Someold movie?I’venever had the patience before to make it past fifty.Buttoday, withJacksonwaiting for me,Ihave all the patience in the world.
Nextup is makeup.Pullingout my little gold mirror,Itake stock.There’sa small patch of flour on my forehead.Easilywiped away, thankfully.Iwipe under my eyes and then add a bit more concealer and setting powder.Iadd a bit more pink to my cheeks.Thena bit more mascara, with my mouth open in the universalOwomen use when applying mascara.Andfinally,Iget out my lip gloss and apply a heavy coat of bright pink stain.
“Youdon’t need any of that, you know.”
Ishrug. “MaybeIenjoy wearing it?”
Ido actually enjoy wearing makeup.Ijust don’t love whenIfeel likeIhave to.It’slike society could only possibly take me seriously with my hair and face tamed into something it deems acceptable.
Fuckthat and fuckJacksonWaters.
“You’rebeautiful without it.”
Weird.Hedoesn’t want to have sex with me.Buthe apparently wants to tell meI’mbeautiful.Idon’t know what kind of game this is, butI’mnot interested in playing with him anymore.
“I’mready,”Itell him, ignoring his compliment, and tossing my makeup bag back into my purse.
Heclenches his jaw again.
“Areyou going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”Jacksonsurprises me by taking my left hand in his and then pressing his right hand against my lower back.Noton my ass.Notass-adjacent.Buton the flat of my lower back.Thenhe guides me out of the kitchen.
“Seeyou tomorrow.Liam’sin charge,”Ishout over my shoulder.
“That’sright, kids.Dad’sin charge, so you better be on your best behavior,”Liamwarns my employees.
Everyonelaughs.Theidea ofLiambeing a hardass boss is a complete joke.
“Dad?”Jackson’sgrip on my hand tightens just a little.
Asmile pulls across my face. “Yeah.Liamalways jokes to all the staff at the bakery thatI’mmom and he’s dad.”
“Ifanyone’s the dad,I’mpretty sure it’s me,”Jacksonmutters.
“It’sa bakery thing.Youdon’t even know the peopleIwork with.It’sjust a joke.”
“Whydon’t you have them over to the house sometime?”
“Toyour house?Becausethat would be weird?WhywouldIdo that?”Todayis just getting more and more confusing. “Doesthis appointment involve wine?BecauseIwould kill for a rosé…”
