New Year Second Chance

I know that, and I can think of only one way to prevent it from happening.

“No one will be able to get to you if you move in with me,” I say.

I’ve thought this through. If Jenna is staying with me, she, Shanna and her father will all be well-guarded. No reporters can get inside my house and she won’t have to leave as often. Also, she’ll be with me, which should convince some of the smarter reporters to leave her alone. They’ll know I’m serious about her, that she has my full support and protection. They’ll understand that if they mess with her, they mess with me. It will be my way of telling them to fuck off without much of a backlash. It’s the best move, really.

Jenna shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re talking about that now.”

My eyebrows furrow. Can’t she see that this is the best way forward?

“I am talking about this because of how things are now. It’s best if you stay with me.”

“Are you making decisions for me again based on what you think is best for me?” Jenna rolls her eyes. “Wow.”

“I’m not deciding. I’m asking.”

“How do I know you didn’t arrange all this just so I’d get scared and move in with you?”

“That’s unfair, Jenna. You know I’d never do that.”

She shrugs. “It seems like you’re desperate for me to move in with you.”

“Because I want to spend more time with my girlfriend,” I say. “I thought you wanted it, too.”

“You know what I want, Dax?” Jenna asks me. “Peace.”

“You’ll have more of it if you move in with me, I promise you.”

“Or maybe I’ll get it if I break up with you.”

My heart stops. Every muscle in my body goes still. Jenna didn’t just suggest we break up, did she?

“What did you say?” I ask her.

“You heard me. Maybe it’s better if we break up.”

A knot forms in my throat and in my stomach. I swallow.

“How is that better? Do you really think we can deal with this better alone?”

“I think I can.”

I frown. “I promised you that if things became difficult or complicated, I’d be there for you. I said we’d work things out together.”

“But I’m not sure we can, Dax.” Jenna steps away from me. “Some things are just beyond our control. Some things aren’t meant to be.”

What is this? She’s giving up already?

“Maybe so. Maybe some things are beyond our control, but there are also things that we can control, like how we cope with difficulty – whether we let it tear us apart or we get stronger. And maybe some things aren’t meant to be, but we can also choose to make things happen. We can choose to be with whoever we want to be with and stay with them no matter what.”

Jenna sighs. “Dax…”

I take her hand. “We can do this, Jenna. Together.”

She tries to pull her hand away but I hold on to it.

“We can get through this and get stronger. We just have to have faith in each other, help each other.”

She looks away. “I don’t know, Dax.”

I let out a breath. What can I say to convince her that breaking up is not the answer?

I’m still trying to find the words when Victor comes into the room. I brought him with me so he could finally meet Jenna, though she didn’t even give him a smile. Also, I wanted him to talk to Arthur, find out everything he needed in case Jenna agreed to move in with me.

I can’t say I appreciate his presence now, though.

“Victor, not now,” I tell him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “But I’m afraid it’s important.”

Of course it is. He wouldn’t interrupt otherwise.

“What is it?” I ask him impatiently.

He glances at Jenna as if to ask me if it’s okay for her to hear whatever he’s about to say.

“Just say it,” I tell him. “My girlfriend has a right to know what’s going on with my life.”

Victor nods. “Maurice called.”

My father’s French butler?

“And?”

“Your father had a stroke,” Victor informs me.

Jenna gasps. I don’t react.

“Apparently, he had it while he was on the stairs, so he fell and broke a knee, too.”

Just a knee? He still sounds lucky to me.

“He’ll be going through surgery, both for his knee and for his brain. There’s a chance he might not make it.”

“So what?” I ask. “He wants to see his beloved son one last time? Why? So he can tell me one last time that I’ll never be more successful than him? That I’m ‘good for bloody nothing’?”

Those were his favorite words to say to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d be his last.

“No, the surgery’s scheduled for just a few hours from now,” Victor tells me. “So I don’t think there will be a chance for you to see each other and exchange your usual words of endearment. At any rate, I doubt he’s coherent now. He may not even be conscious. Maurice just wanted you to know about it.”