Page 183 of Dirty Like Dylan

Or maybe I was just jealous of what they had.

Maybe I was just feeling a little bitter that my latest relationship—which had also started out in a threesome situation—wasn’t going as well as I’d let on.

Anyway, Jessa didn’t seem to agree with me as she gazed over at Dylan and Amber. “Maybe this one will.”

Maybe.

Maybe I was just regretting that I didn’t hook up with Dylan Cope myself when I’d had the chance—the night of Jesse and Katie’s wedding. Because surely Dylan Cope was a better catch than Tyler “Taze” Murphy.

Maybe I was regretting that instead of hooking up with Dylan, I’d hooked up with Jude that night instead.

Except I didn’t regret hooking up with Jude.

Not exactly.

Who could regret sex like that, with a man like that?

My only regret was what a giant douchebag he’d turned into since then.

The baby wriggled in my arms, and I rocked him a bit, trying to settle him. “Shh, baby Nick. Promise me, when you grow up, you won’t be a douchebag to the ladies, okay?”

They’d named him Nicholas, after Jessa’s dad. Middle name Jesse, after Jessa’s brother, and last name Mason—Brody’s last name. As for Jessa taking Brody’s last name herself, she just kept saying, We’ll get to that. Brody hadn’t proposed yet, formally, but he’d definitely put the feeler out; it was Jessa who’d been adamant she wasn’t going to be pregnant in a wedding dress.

I’d never say it out loud, because it was pathetic as fuck, but I was kinda hoping they’d get married—so I’d get to be a bridesmaid. I figured I was next in line, behind Maggie and Katie, for such an honor, and Jude was definitely in line to be one of Brody’s groomsmen. I didn’t give a crap about weddings, in general, but I definitely harbored a bullshit secret fantasy of being in a wedding party with Jude so maybe we could repeat our little wedding night hookup.

So pathetic.

“Oh, shit. I think we’ve got a diaper situation.” I passed little Nicholas carefully back to his mommy. “I mean, I guess I could change him for you, if you want…” It was the most half-assed offer ever, but for Jessa, I’d do it.

“No, no. I’ll do it.” Jessa took him from me, rubbing the tip of her nose against his and kissing his little cheeks.

Thank fuck. I didn’t really want to get baby poop on my new sweater. It was cashmere, soft and clingy, a kind of muted green that made my eyes pop. Plus, it did epic things to my boobs.

And Jude hadn’t even seen me in it yet.

Yeah. Pathetic.

Jessa took the baby into the downstairs washroom, to change him on the change table. While she did that, I said hi to Brody, then wandered upstairs to the baby’s room, alone.

They’d converted one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery, and it was adorable. Sweet and soft, with cream and yellow walls and furniture, a little cloud city with animals floating in the clouds on one wall—baby giraffes and lions and elephants.

I pulled the little stuffed monkey from my pocket. It was small, just a couple of inches and kinda flat. Purple. Old. I’d cleaned it, but it had been well-loved. It was the only memento I had from when I was a baby, and since I didn’t exactly see myself reproducing anytime soon, I figured little Nicholas should enjoy it.

He really didn’t need it. He didn’t need anything. Jessa and Brody’s kid was getting a pretty epic start in life. Better than I’d had. Better than a lot of us had. And I was happy for him. I was happy for Jessa, really. She deserved everything she had, and more. Jessa made good money on her own, but the fact was Brody was wealthy, he loved her like crazy, and their kid would never want for anything, stuffed toys or otherwise.

But it felt important to me that I give him my little monkey.

I placed it in the crib, because I really didn’t need anyone to know who it was from. I just needed baby Nicholas to have it.

Then I turned to look around again. I breathed in the new-baby scent. Clean baby clothes and diaper cream and fresh air. There was just something about being in a baby’s room. Everything so hopeful and new, and bright...

Until someone darkened the door.

I turned to find Jude looming.

His broad shoulders pretty much filled the doorway, and he was staring me down. He wore a fitted black V-neck T-shirt that showed off every single curve of his sculpted upper body, not to mention his nipples. And dark gray jeans molded to his sculpted lower bod. Dark tats all down his bare arms. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark expression on his face. Just dark.

“Hey,” I said, swallowing. My voice came out a weak little croak, and I wanted to kick my own ass for it.

---