“I just want to enjoy our bubble away from it all. Just a little longer.”
I want time to tell him exactly how I feel, and what I need if we’re really going to do this.
“Okay, I’ll park here.” Jackson shifts the gear. “But I’m watching you walk all the way inside before I drive away.”
“Thank you.” The relief I feel is immediate, and I dig around in my bag to retrieve my keychain. “The gold one is my house key. I’ll be back before Edward’s bedtime.”
“Hey”—he holds my hand as I pass him the keys—“Stay as late as you want. No rush. I mean it. We’ll be good.”
It takes great effort to drag my hand away from the warmth of his touch, and I give him one last look before exiting the truck. As I walk the distance to Sarah’s, I shove all of my doubts away and repeat Jackson’s last words like a mantra.We’ll be good.
God, I hope he’s right.
29
JACKSON
It’safter eleven when I hear the groan of the garage door. I told Rosalie to stay as long as she wanted, and I’m glad she did. She deserves to have fun with her friends.
The trust she put in me to take care of her son fills my chest with pride. Of course, Edward has been asleep for hours. I did a little tidying after he went to bed, and have been keeping myself entertained by reading a book from Rosalie’s personal library. I’m still waiting on her to send me part of her book. I’m dying to read her words, but I trust she’ll let me when she’s ready.
I close the book with a soft snap as Rosalie tiptoes into the room. Her hand rests against the wall, as if to hold her steady, and it makes me wonder if she’s had a few drinks. I like tipsy Rosalie.
I can’t help but grin as she spots me noticing her from her favorite reading chair.
“Hey”—she sets her purse onto the kitchen counter—“Thank you for tonight.”
“You have fun?”
She holds up her hand and pinches her thumb and forefingertogether. “Lil’ bit.” Her laughter is soft and her smile is unguarded. “Did everything go okay here? How was Edward? Did he miss me?” She flattens her hand and shakes her head. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”
I put her fears to rest. “He was an angel. But he did write you a good-night message.” I could tell he wanted her at bedtime, but he put on a brave face. I stand and join Rosalie at the kitchen counter, passing her the note. “He’s a good kid, Rosalie.”
“He is, isn’t he?” She reads his note and presses a hand to her chest. “My sweet boy.”
“You hungry? I put leftovers in the fridge.”
“Nah.” She pats her belly and walks over to the sofa. “I’m so full.” She stops short and her brow furrows sharply as she stares at the folded clothes on the back of the sofa. “What is this?”
There’s no way she’s forgotten about our shopping trip. I stare at her, confused.
“Uh, those are Edward’s new clothes.”
She picks up a T-shirt and buries her face in the fabric before inhaling audibly. I take a step forward, slightly concerned by the oddness of her behavior.
“Is everything okay?”
She lowers the clothing, her eyes wide as they meet my stare.
“This smells like my laundry detergent.”
“It is,” I say slowly. “I washed them.”
“You washed them?” Her voice rises. “Fucking hell, Jackson.”
Shit.“Was that wrong?”
“No.” She laughs, but then the sound morphs into more of a sob as she sets the shirt back with the others.
