I swallow the lump. “I think it was a bunch of little things that just accumulated and pushed me over the edge.” I sink down in the bed, to where my head is now on the pillows. “I worked so hard on the fundraiser that would make him and the hospital look good, and he ruined it.”
“I had a hand in that also.” His voice is soft.
“Why did you go out there?” I ask him. “What happened?”
“He didn’t tell you?” he asks the question and then I hear him sort of hiss. “Of course he wouldn’t. I walked out there to get some air. I just needed to…” He trails off and I close my eyes. “And he was there with this blonde.”
“Tatum.” I fill in her name.
“Whatever her name was, and they were…” He doesn’t want to say it, no doubt not wanting to hurt me. Even though he owes me nothing, he’s still not going to say it. I wait for him to tell me what happened before I tell him my side of it. Each word feels like it hurts him more than it hurts me.
“He tried to turn it around and say I was the one who let this happened.”
“Shocker.”
“He didn’t come home with me that night,” I tell him. “Ordered another car and told me he needed space to think about what happened. Needed me to think about what I did. It was supposed to punish me. The whole time in the car I thought about how this was my big night and he should have supported me, but instead he made things about him.” The tear escapes. “He spent the night fucking Tatum, and when I called him in the morning to tell him I left, he said he would stop.”
“I’m going to need you to stop talking right now,” he grumbles between clenched teeth, “and I take back the dare. I’m not daring you.”
“What?” I chuckle. “Why?”
“Because it’ll be me trying to force you to do it and it’s not right,” he admits and I hear the sound of a meow.
“Do you have a cat?” I sit up in bed.
“I do,” he confirms. “Jefferson. She’s an acquired taste.” His laughter fills the phone. “She chooses when she wants to be rubbed. She likes to be escorted to her food plate, even though there is always food in it.” I slowly put my head back down on the pillow, the smile filling my face as he talks about his cat. “She also hates to be held.”
“She sounds delightful.”
“She is,” he agrees, “in her own way.” He exhales deeply. “Seriously though, I want you to come and work for the foundation because I think you would make it that much better. But I’m not going to dare you to do it.”
“Okay,” I say softly, “I won’t take into account the dare.”
“Thank you,” he replies and then silence lingers between us. “I’ll let you go.”
“Okay.” I don’t want to let him go but I’m not sure how to prolong the conversation. “Have a good night.”
“It’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. Goodnight, Lexi,” he adds quickly and then hangs up.
I look down at the phone and then do something I haven’t done in ten years. I start a social media account. The first thing I do is search his name and then see the first picture of him is of him on the ice. I scroll down and stop at a couple of videos to hear what he is saying. Each time it’s an interview about the game. There is a picture of him at a blackjack table with a caption of Casino Night, with Jaxon in the back of it. I scroll until I see a picture of his cat. She’s sitting down with the cutest face I think I’ve ever seen on a cat; she’s all black with a little patch of white on her chest. The caption says it all, Meet Ms. Jefferson.
I smile before shutting it down and placing my phone to the side. Sleep comes easy to me, so easy that I’m shocked when I open my eyes nine hours later and I’m literally in the same position I was when I fell asleep. I stretch my hands over my head before tossing the covers off me. I wash my face and brush my teeth before grabbing my robe and making my way downstairs. “The wheels on the bus go round and round,” Ariella sings softly as I walk into the kitchen.
She’s sitting on the stool with Jagger beside her in his highchair, as she is feeding him his cereal. “Morning,” I say with a smile on my face. Jagger turns his head to my voice and smiles. “Morning, handsome boy. How did we sleep?”
“He woke up once at three and then went back down again,” Ariella shares. “It was magical.”
I make a coffee before going over and standing on the other side of the counter, leaning over it with my elbows on it while I take a sip. “Is Jaxon gone?”
“He is,” she confirms and then turns her eyes to me. “Last night was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I admit to her.
“You and Kirby.” I look at her, not saying anything, and then I shock the shit out of her.
“Me and Kirby have a history.”
The gasp fills the room. “Not that type of history.” I rethink my words. “But he—” I smile. “We became friends when I was in Phoenix.”
