Reckless (Mason Family 3)

He grins. “I think bank account statements can be dazzling.”

“Well played.” I laugh. “Look at that—Wade has a sense of humor, after all.”

The humor is short-lived. It disappears from his face as quickly as it arrived.

I sit back in the seat and let my mind drift to Jaxi and the idea of marriage. My thoughts on the topic are now convoluted. I’d be stupid if I didn’t listen to Wade’s opinion.

My relationship with Jaxi won’t change if we don’t get married. To be honest, she’s never insinuated she wants to get married anyway.

I rest my head against the back of the seat and pick up my phone again.

Me: Hey.

Jaxi: Hi.

Me: I have a plan I want to talk to you about tonight. And then a guy is coming by at six. I should be home around four or four thirty.

Jaxi: Okay. Everything good?

Me: Yes. I just want to go over a plan I have and see what you think.

Jaxi: Sounds good. How’s your day going?

Me: Swimmingly. Just listened to the modern pitfalls of marriage, courtesy of Wade.

Jaxi: Sounds fun. I’ll see you this afternoon.

Me: See you then.

I put the phone back in my pocket.

Twenty-One

Jaxi

Just listened to the modern pitfalls of marriage, courtesy of Wade.

I wipe the countertop down with a sponge. I go still as I get to the spot in the corner where we made love for the first time.

At least, that’s what it was to me. And what I thought it was to him.

A bubble inflates and deflates in my stomach. With each breath I take, my anxiety rises and falls. It feels like something is wrong. Something is off. It’s an intuitive pressure in my body that I’ve learned to observe.

Why? Because it’s usually right.

I push forward and finish cleaning the counters. My brain switches into overdrive and dissects every conversation, every interaction, that Boone and I have had over the past couple of days.

He’s been tired, I know. Rosie hasn’t been sleeping much, and when she does, it’s not in her own bed. We take turns putting her back in her room. We sit with her, talk to her, try to be gentle but firm, but the line on how to deal with this is blurry. She’s in a new house. She’s just lost her mother. We have no idea what to do.

It’s probably just that things are going great. I’m so used to looking for the dark side of things. I need to learn to override this stuff.

I toss the sponge in the sink and sigh.

Did Wade’s and his conversation about marriage have something to do with me?

I force a swallow down my throat.

Surely, he doesn’t think that’s what I’m thinking.

Would I marry Boone Mason? I mean, he’s all kinds of wonderful. But I haven’t been thinking actively about that. I haven’t really even considered it. It’s way too early to contemplate that far into the future when I’m still trying to get through today.

The sound of my phone breaks my concentration.

“Hello?” I say into the line.

“Hi.” Libby’s voice sounds better, stronger than it has lately. “How are you, toots?”

“Peachy. Cleaning up lunch. Rosie is finally starting to play in her room by herself.”

“Eh, yeah. That’s why I’m thankful I don’t have kids right now. No offense.”

“None taken.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s happening in Vegas?”

“Good news from my attorney. Apparently, Ted’s counsel is a dumbass, and we should be able to, and I quote, steamroll him. That makes me happy.”

I laugh. “Me too.”

She crunches on something. The sound makes me realize I didn’t eat lunch. I made it. I served it to Rosie. And then I got busy trying to clean out the milk that got spilled in the fridge.

“So, are you getting … would I stay steamed or rolled as a sexual innuendo?” she asks. “Deep thoughts for today.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not sure I’d say either, but yes, I’m getting action.”

She cheers. “Woo-hoo! That’s my girl.”

“Oh, my gosh. You’re too much.” I shake my head. “You are living through me, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes. The only action I’m getting is my mom’s cat rubbing against my legs.” She crunches another chip. “I think I’m in the acceptance stage of grief, by the way. I woke up this morning and saw the sun shine …”

“In three damn days,” I sing.

She laughs. “Well, more than that, but clearly, you get the picture.”

I head to the pantry to see if we have any chips.

Oh! And maybe some onion dip to go with it.

I cringe. You are not stress eating. Stop it.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Libby asks.

“About what?”

“About whatever it is that has you preoccupied.”

I slouch my shoulders. “Nothing is wrong. Not at all. I just … I’m overthinking.”

“This is my surprised face. Do you see it?”

I grin sadly. “I worry that this is getting to be too much for Boone.”