“What do you think, April?”
“Will you help me get ready?” she asked. And goodness gracious, just asking made her stomach turn over on itself in the nerve-wracking way she’d become accustomed to.
“That’s why I’m here,” he repeated.
“Will you stay and coach me so I don’t mess up again?” Holy hell-o, it took more than she’d ever expected to say those words.
Jack, though? Jack didn’t hesitate as he answered, “I will.”
He would.
“Your schedule, though.” She was back to noshing on cherry-flavored gloss from her lips.
“I’ll figure it out.” The confidence in his words was enough to have her nodding.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning every syllable. They weren’t touching, but there wasn’t more than a breath of space between the two of them.
The whole ask should’ve been uncomfortable—like touching a hot pan and just having to deal with the pain. She’d expected the discomfort. But after she said the words, all she felt was relief.
The pan wasn’t that hot after all.
“You can stay here,” she said, and oh, Simone would be so proud. She just went all in and tossed it out. “If you want.”
The little lines between his eyes deepened, prompting her to jump in further.
“So you don’t have to worry about Kitty adopting a cat”—because it was pretty clear last night that if that feline did not have a home before, he was going to have one now—“or a hotel or Simone’s couch.”
He studied her for a long moment. Anuncomfortablylong moment.
He could also have stayed with his sister. But Rachel didn’t exactly have an extra room at her house, either. What with Travis and the boys and her two golden retrievers.
“You don’t have to. But you can.” She wrung her fingers.
He’d say no. He was going to say no. This was why she didn’t just offer her guest room to random men—because they’d say no.
“That would be great.” He took a small move forward. Deeper into her personal-space bubble.
“Really?” she asked, the word breathier than she’d intended. Because had he really just agreed? How had he just agreed?
“I think it’s a good solution.” For the first time—or rather, ever that she’d seen—he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m allergic to Kitty’s right now, and this is where you need me.”
She wouldn’t think too hard on the idea that she wasn’t April to him. She was his job.
No, she would not.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?” His mouth wasn’t anywhere near hers, but she still, somehow, felt the word like a breath across her skin.
“Ask me what I want,” she said, the question lodging in her larynx.
That got her a lopsided Jack grin. He slipped his hands into his pockets. If he was going to be around her kids for longer than a few days, he’d probably need to get some non–Wall Street clothing.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want to be the fucking phoenix,” she said softly.
He said nothing. Letting her announcement settle over the room. Because,yes. There it was. She’d tossed it out there.
