CHAPTER 22
The credits were rolling on their third documentary of the night when Antonio’s eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep. They’d slipped Lupe $200 to get them a bottle of Baluarte Blanco, limes, and salt. What started as a drinking game every time someone in the true crime documentary said, “they seemed so normal,” ended up with them both passed out on the couch, his head resting on Jackie’s lap and her arm draped over his torso. It felt as if they’d spent every Friday night like this. The only missing factor was PeeWee nestled between them. He wasn’t sure if he could actually manage that, as he was ridiculously allergic to dogs—but the picture felt so natural, so comfortable. Was this what they could have been, if things hadn’t gone south ten years ago?
Antonio slowly peeled Jackie’s arm from his body and lifted his head. He was sure he’d have a slight hangover in the morning, but it was totally worth it. Jackie was still sound asleep. He didn’t want to leave her on the couch, which was about as comfortable as sleeping in a coffin. He crouched and lifted her slowly, then placed her on the bed. She didn’t wake up. When he returned to the bedroom after brushing his teeth, Jackie was curled up in the middle of the bed, snoring softly.
Antonio leaned against the doorway and stared at her. He studied every line, every curve made fuller over the years. The leggings she wore did little to hide the dimples and thickness of her thighs. Her deep, dark hazelnut skin glowed in low light of the room. A little wrinkle formed in her forehead as she slept. Although time had changed her a bit, the one thing that remained was her unwavering commitment to her signature pixie cut. And if she knew she’d fallen asleep without wrapping her hair, he knew she’d be pissed. Sisters were very particular about their hair.
Antonio opened one of Jackie’s many bags, hoping he’d find the wrap for her hair. Lucky for him, the first bag he opened held her toiletries, her headscarf right on top. He gently lifted Jackie’s head and tied the headscarf down as securely as he could without disturbing her sleep. Before he could stop himself, he kissed her forehead. Jackie’s eyelashes fluttered slightly but didn’t open.
He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid into bed, careful to make sure his weight didn’t shift hers. Granted, the mattress was massive, but he wasn’t sure if Jackie was a light sleeper or not. He usually slept naked, but he had the good sense not to do that. With the way his dick was straining against his boxers right now, he was thankful for the layer of constriction. Antonio hadn’t had sex in months. One touch and he was liable to explode right there in his shorts.
Antonio attempted to think of anything else. He turned on the small lamp on the nightstand and tried to finish his book, but that was useless. After fifteen minutes, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He tried remembering that breathwork stuff they’d learned earlier, taking a long breath in through the nose and letting it out through the mouth, but it wasn’t really helping. Inches away from him was the woman who’d haunted his dreams for the past ten years—who’d consumed his thoughts constantly since coming to Atlanta for the merger. A woman who, up until a few hours ago, could barely tolerate him. But spending a surprisingly cordial evening with her had given him hope. Clearly, Antonio Steele was a glutton for punishment.
He was about to turn to sleep on his side when he felt Jackie’s thigh wrap around his leg. “Fuck,” he said in a low hiss. She moaned as she nestled closer, her head resting securely on his bare chest. Antonio’s dick went from a dull throb to a painful ache. So much for the safety and security of Calvin Klein. He tried to move, but her thigh had him pinned down.
“Quit moving, PeeWee,” Jackie groggily mumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”
Antonio frowned.She thinks I’m the damned dog?That definitely deflated more than his ego. He cleared his throat before responding, “I know how much you love PeeWee, so I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
Jackie jerked her eyes open and looked at Antonio. She sat up in bed as the reality of the moment dawned on both of them.
“Wait—you got your voice back?!” Antonio looked at Jackie, astonished.
Jackie cleared her throat and opened her mouth to respond. But nothing came out.
“So, you can talk in your sleep? But not now? Do you normally talk in your sleep?
Jackie sighed, shook her head no, then slumped back onto the pillows. Frustrated, she smacked her palm to her forehead, then blinked, presumably feeling the cool silk of her headwrap. She blinked at Antonio and tried again to speak, but no sound passed her lips.
He shrugged. “You’re welcome. I know you wouldn’t want to mess up your ’do.” He looked at Jackie, trying to understand why she could sleep-talk but not say one simple word awake. This wasn’t laryngitis. Was it really just stress getting to her? Or something deeper?
“So, I take it from your sleep-talk that you’re worried about PeeWee?” He tried not to look too concerned. During their movie marathon, Jackie had shared that PeeWee’s recovery from surgery had been slow going. The biopsy results remained inconclusive. He could understand why the pup was on her mind. Antonio knew she never traveled long without PeeWee, and no matter how luxurious that veterinary medical spa was, it was probably worrying Jackie to death to keep him there. Her love for PeeWee gave Antonio a sneak peek into the real Jackie—the kind, devoted Jackie who loved fiercely. Maybe on this trip he’d get to see more of that.
Jackie nodded an affirmative, then sat up.
Antonio gave her a slight smile. “Well, I’m sure PeeWee is going to pull through. He’s tough, just like you.”
Jackie returned the smile. She stared into his eyes a moment, then took his chin in her hand and gently tilted it, as if searching for something. He knew exactly what she was looking for. When she found it, he felt the tip of her acrylic nail trace the outline of the letter behind his ear. He was glad his feet were covered by the duvet; she didn’t need to know how her touch made his toes curl.
“It’s still there, Lucky. I never get rid of my ink. As you can see, I got addicted and added more. Did you get rid of yours?”
Jackie shook her head no. She turned her back to him, pulling down the top of her leggings slightly to reveal that small four-leaf clover on her lower back. Antonio traced the shape with his index finger, and he swore he felt her shiver.
Jackie turned back toward Antonio. Seeing a quizzical look on his face, she motioned for him to speak.
