“You’re still mine,” I whisper.
We stare at each other for two more seconds and then he says, abruptly, “I need chocolate.”
“Yes!” I agree emphatically.
“Let’s raid the kitchen. Race ya!” he shouts, shoving me away to get a head start.
I streak into the entrance hall after him and, just as we used to when we ran across the marble floor with wet feet, we both slip straight over.
Weloseit. Our squeals of laughter echo off the walls and can probably be heard throughout the château.
As he belly slides toward me, tears of hysteria streaming down his face, I think that my most dreaded date in the calendar will now be remembered as one of my most beloved.
And that’s evenbeforehe collapses into a heap right across my body. He rolls over, taking me with him, and as I lie on his chest with his hand cupping my lower back, I hear him whisper something into what I realize has become a very sudden silence.
“What?” I ask, lifting my head.
He’s staring up at the ceiling. But when he meets my eyes, I sober up.
“What did you say?” I persist.
He looks stricken. “Please don’t shut me out of your life again.”
I shake my head. “I won’t.”
He closes his eyes and I rest my cheek back against his chest, and that’s how Patricia finds us a few minutes later.
16
I’m up half the nightthinking about Jackson and how he called me his favorite person and made me promise never to cut him out of my life again. The heat in his eyes as we watched each other undressing has been playing on repeat inside my mind, making me feel hot and feverish. I’m pretty strung out by the time I get to work. I have no idea if things will be different or awkward, but Jackson seems more chilled than ever. If he’s been awake thinking about us too, he hides it well.
He swivels in his chair to face me as I sit down, bashing his knees against mine.
“You and your long legs,” I chide, knocking him away.
“You and your short ones,” he teases, putting his foot on my chair and pushing me backward a couple of inches.
“Oi!” I squeal, scooting forward again.
We’re both laughing, and it’s nice. It’s playful.
But it’s also a little anticlimactic. What happened to our chemistry?
On Friday, Albertbursts into the office. “Ice cream break!” he declares.
“Ice cream?” Jackson asks his grandfather, surprised. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“Yes, we have lunch first,” Albert states, as though this is obvious. “And before that, we collect Mellie. She’s coming too,” he tells me.
“Family outing!” I exclaim, clapping my hands.
“What’s the occasion?” Jackson asks, flashing me a grin.
“Mellie has heard from a little bird,” Albert says, placing his hand on my shoulder, “that there is a beautiful painting inside the pavilion opposite the factory. She would like to see it.”
Jackson’s expression grows concerned. I told him what Mellie said about Albert sealing up the pavilion after his wife died.
“Are you sure you’re up for that, Albie?” he asks carefully.
