This is different from Jackson’s normal overprotective side; just another thing to add to the subtle changes between us.
Declan squeezes his shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Jackson gives a curt nod, then takes a deep breath.
What the hell is that all about?
Little footsteps come to the end of the stairs when we’re about to walk out. Tears track down Charlie’s face. “No goodbye?” She sniffles.
I open my arms, and she runs down, throwing her body into mine. Then she leans over, draping one arm around Jack’s neck to hug us both.
“You hurt Chloe’s and Mommy’s feelings, Charlotte. You’re my precious angel, but you can’t act like that,” Jack whispers.
She nods into his shoulder, turning her head toward Sadie. “I’m sorry Mommy. I’m sorry, Chloe.”
Sadie walks over to kiss her. “We forgive you, but we need to be kinder to one another. Chloe loves you very much.”
“Okay, Mommy. Can Uncle Jack read me a book?” she begs with a pouty lip.
“Uncle Jack needs to take Auntie Belle and Auntie Lola home. Maybe another time.”
“I’ll stay,” Lola chimes in. “I need the distraction. I have no plans tonight, and I don’t want to sit at home.” She puts her arms out, and Charlie flings her body into Lola, almost knocking her over.
Which leaves me with my unpredictable friend for a car ride alone.
We finish our goodbyes and then Jack and I walk out to his car. I feel as if we’re in a silent war; one that’s clearly one-sided.
He’s power walking to the car, leaving me in the dust, which is very unlike him. Once we’re in, he starts the car and zooms out into the road, barely checking traffic.
“Bloody hell, slow down and cut the shit, Jack. What’s wrong with you today?”
“I’m just perfect, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, looking deranged.
Fine, I won’t. I can’t deal with his crazy right now. I’m too tired after my stressful day and the pounding headache from all the afternoon beverages I consumed.
I must have dozed off, because I’m woken up by the slamming of his brakes in front of my place.
“Thanks for not killing me on the way home.” I get out and slam the door, annoyed he’s put me in a sour mood.
He rolls the window down. “Have fun on your date!” he snaps.
I freeze, and my whole body deflates. “Jack,” I whisper, too low for him to hear, but before I can ask if everything is all right, he pulls away, leaving me on the sidewalk, stunned.
Is that why he’s being such a bastard? Because I’m going on a date? I go on dates multiple times a week—one’s he’s privy to, most of the time—and I’ve never seen him act like this.
I’ll ring him tomorrow and get to the bottom of this newfound jealousy, especially before we head to Paris. Jack and I rarely bump heads about anything, so it’s quite off-putting that he’s acting a fool out of nowhere.
Something’s going on in that handsome head of his, but right now, I can’t take the time to figure it out, because if I don’t hustle, I’m going to be late.
* * *
“Tell me what you like most and least about your business?” Logan asks from across the small cocktail bar that separates us.
I smile, answering easily. “I’m a people person, and I love the excitement of the city. So the events, traveling, and meeting new people is all a thrill for me. My least favorite part is taking on a client I don’t necessarily vibe with. Since we’re a young company, I don’t have the privilege of picking and choosing. We’re not at that stage yet.”
“Give me an example,” he urges.
Logan has been highly attentive all night, genuinely interested in knowing everything about me and the Hughes Agency. I have to say, it’s nice for once. I’m enjoying myself way more than I ever thought I would.
“One of my best mates owns a sports management agency, so I’ve partnered with him, taking on lesser-known athletes. They probably account for half of our earnings because they’re constantly up to no good. Our crisis management team director handles them mostly, but a few clients are my personal responsibility, and to be straight with you, athletes can’t keep it in their pants. They get caught up with mistresses, prostitutes, sex clubs, strip clubs, you name it, and most of them are married or in serious relationships. I hate being the one trying to cover it up. I despise cheaters with a passion, and I feel I’m failing my fellow women by not outing their husbands.” I say all of that in a rush and am slightly embarrassed for rambling.
