I like things clean and organized. She lives in functional chaos.
And she doesn’t eat meat, for Christ’s sake.
Yet here I am, unable to take my eyes off her.
She sits at the counter with her tea and opens her laptop. My office has glass doors that face the living room, which opens into the kitchen. There’s no place to hide from each other here even when we want to.
We left early for Chicago this morning so I could take this last call. The guardian ad litem will be here in less than an hour, and I’m already sweating bullets.
This isn’t a meeting I can charm my way through.
This is someone deciding whether I’m fit to be a father.
My lawyer walked me through everything, but knowing this guy’s already been to Cece’s place, and that Jordan’s barely spoken three words to me all morning, has me on edge. We need to look united. Like a loving, newlywed couple ready to take on the responsibility of raising Cole.
Instead, everything feels… fragile.
And I can’t stop thinking about that damn kiss yesterday.
I was trying to fuck with her. Rattle her. Put Harper in her place. But then Jordan came back at me like she wanted it. Like she needed it. Like she was just as close to breaking as I was.
It wasn’t just a good kiss.
It was hot.
And it woke me the hell up.
Made me realize what an idiot I am for thinking this would all work itself out. That I’d be fine with her signing papers and moving out in a few months.
I don’t want Jordan to leave. I like having her here.
And it’s not about sex.
Sex would be easy. Friends with benefits would be easy. Fuck, pretending none of this means anything would be easy.
Jordan isn’t that.
What I want is her in my space. In my life. At my kitchen counter with her tea. Sleeping in my bed. Existing in a way that feels…real.
Jordan is the problem because Jordan is the whole thing.
I’ve always been the kind of guy who says what he feels when it matters. I tell the people I love that I love them. I don’t hide it.
But not with her.
With Jordan, I learned the hard way what vulnerability costs.
So now I keep that shit shoved in a box and locked tight. Don’t even know where the fucking key is anymore. I just show up. Again and again. Say everything with my actions and nothing with my mouth.
Because the second I say it out loud—I lose her. And that scares the hell out of me.
My phone dings, and a text from my father lights up my screen.
Connor Grayson
I suppose congratulations are in order. What the hell were you thinking?
The smartest thing I could do right now is not respond. But I’m a glutton for punishment.
