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“It doesn’t matter,” I say hurriedly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I’m so, so sorry for embarrassing you that night at the Gala, Jett. I just—”
“No, you were right,” he says, his jaw set with fury. “You were right to say it. He is a ‘bawbag’. And you better believe I’ll be telling him that myself, next time I see him.”
The Scottish slang sounds so comical in his Californian accent that it almost makes me laugh, but I manage to stop myself just in time, and adopt a suitably serious expression instead.
“Shit,” Jett says. He runs his hands through his hair, looking like he might pull it out in frustration. “I can’t believe he didthat. I can’t believe he threatened you. Why didn’t you tell me, though? Why didn’t you just say something?”
“I was going to,” I reply weakly. “That’s why I asked you to call me; so I could explain. Or try to. But I didn’t really want to tell you, Jett. I didn’t want to be the reason you ended up hating him. I know what it’s like not to have a father. I didn’t want that for you. Istilldon’t. I just want you to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I want.”
“How can I, though?” he asks fiercely, turning to face me at last. “How can I be happy without you? I can’t. I’ve tried. And I’ve never been so miserable in my life.”
“Me neither,” I admit. “And I’ve been working at The Crown, too, so… well, you can imagine.”
“I’ve been working with Violet, though,” says Jett ruefully. “I think I’dratherhave been working at The Crown.”
We smile at each other tentatively.
“The other night,” I say, wishing he’d come and put his hands on my face again. “At the View, after my accident… You said it was a mistake? I assumed you meant because of you and Violet?”
Jett shakes his head.
“Because of you and McTavish,” he says. “And, well, because you’d just had a pretty bad bump on the head. It didn’t seem fair. I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
“Oh, I was thinking totally clearly,” I assure him, smiling through the tears that still keep coming, despite my best efforts to stop them. “And it was absolutely fine by me; trust me.”
“Was it?” he says softly, coming to stand close to me at last. “What about this? Is this fine by you?”
He leans forward and kisses me on the tip of my nose. I feel it all the way down to my soles.
“That’s totally fine too,” I whisper, hardly trusting myself to speak.
“What about this?”
He moves even closer, and I feel his hands on my waist as his lips brush mine — the very lightest of touches, that makes me shiver as I lean closer.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, pretending to think about it. “Maybe you should try again; just so I can really think about it, you know?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to not be sure,” he smiles.
This time when he kisses me, his arms tighten around me, picking me up until my face is level with his, and my arms are around his neck. This time when he kisses me, it lasts for a very long time, as if neither one of us wants to be the first to let go.
“That was definitely better than fine,” I tell him, when we pull apart at last. “That was pretty much perfect, actually.”
“I should have come after you,” he says in a whisper. “I should have tried harder to stop you leaving. I’ve regretted that every single day since; I need you to know that.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask softly, my arms still wrapped around him as I look up into his eyes. “Even if you didn’t get the note, you still could’ve—” I trail off and burrow into his arms, not sure I want to know the answer to that one, even though I asked. But Jett’s fingers find my chin and tilt my face up to his, his sea green eyes fixed on mine.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he says with a wry smile. “And because I was hurt, I guess. I really thought you’d just had enough of me. Or of my life, maybe. And, God knows, I wouldn’t blame you. I feel like I’ve had enough of it myself often enough. I could see what it was doing to you; how much it was hurting you to read all those stupid comments you kept getting…”
“That’s not why I left,” I interrupt quickly. “I mean, sure, it wasn’t fun being told I look like a troll doll every day, but I don’t care what people think of me, Jett. Not really. I only care whatyouthink of me. That’s it. That’s all that really matters.”
“What I think is that I love you, Lexie,” Jett says hoarsely. “I never stopped. I don’t think I knowhowto stop now. It’s just something I do. And I keep doing it, even when I’m trying not to.”
“So stop trying,” I say, kissing him again. “Because I love you too, and I don’t know how to stop either. Which isalsofine by me, because I don’t want to. Not ever.”
“You’re sure about that, Lady M? You’re sure you’re up to the challenge of me and my messed-up family, and my weird job? You’re okay with all of that?”
“You’re not the only one with a messed-up family, Jett,” I tell him, thinking of Alan, and Lochlan, and how I still don’t know who my dad is. “Not by a long shot. And, okay, your job isprettyweird. I’ll give you that. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see you and Violet on screen without wanting to throw more than just food at her. But I think I can control myself, now I know there’s nothing going on between you.”
