Page 101 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

“Do you mean silently judge my process while I work? Yes. You may, but only because you’re pretty.” He’s leaned over now and has picked up Ducky, who looked as if she was about to jump on the counter. He’s holding her like a toddler on his sturdy hip bone and cracking eggs one-handed into a mixing bowl. Not a single shell falls into it and Ducky looks like the happiest cat in all the land.

I take in the sight of Jack Bennett standing in my kitchen in nothing but the necessities, holding my cat and cooking me dinner. His hair is a messy damp ode to the sex we just had, and his grin is an ode to the sex we will have again.

When he’s finished cooking and we carry our plates to the table, I finally ask him the question that’s been burning through me. “Are you okay?”

He stretches out his long legs under the table. “I don’t know how I feel yet, to be honest. I mean, in a way I was ready for the world to know. I had already decided that I would announce it. But it sucks that this is how everyone found out. It kills me that he gets some credit for what I busted my ass for all on my own.”

“Can I say something?” I ask, taking Jack’s hand.

“I love when you say things.”

“I want to murder your dad.”

Jack barks out a laugh. Oh, it’s wonderful. I love when he finds me funny. I love when my sharp, rude humor tickles his fancy in the same way it does mine. How did it take me so long to realize that what I saw in Jack as competitiveness was mostly us deeply relating?

Jack tugs my wrist so that I’m pulled into his lap. “Don’t worry about me. Because one person in my life you haven’t met yet, and I can’t wait to introduce you to, is my agent, Jonathan. He has been in my corner since day one and will absolutely make sure my dad doesn’t get away with this. In fact, I’m willing to bet he’s already concocted two different PR responses to my dad’s video. A message where I’m grateful to finally have the news out and excited to meet readers and booksellers and other authors, brushing over what happened with my dad and not mentioning him at all. Or one where I’m thankful to finally have the news out, and I also publicly renounce my dad and explain that he did not have permission to share the news.”

I slide my hand around the side of Jack’s hair—brunette tonight from the shower.“Which one will you pick?”

He’s thoughtful for a minute. Kisses me once and then smiles. “The second one. I’m done absorbing his shit, and I’m ready to be a little authentic.”

I’m so proud of this man I could burst.

“Now I have a question for you.” He leans back in his chair, hand relaxed across my thigh. “Are you going to move forward with your book?”

I breathe in, hold it, and let it out. “Yes. I am.” A look of relief sweeps over Jack’s face. “I…agree with some of the things Colette said and I’m eager to get to my corner table this weekend and start working on it. But there was a lot I don’t agree with as well. My sisters are reading it now and they promised to give me honest feedback—so maybe if their opinions align with Colette’s, I’llconsider changing those parts; but if not, I’m going to keep it how I want it and hope to find an agent who sees the same vision I have for the story.”

“That’s an excellent plan. And again—I’m so sorry if I pushed you to submit it before—”

I cover his mouth with my finger. “That was a good experience. I learned from it. And the only thing you’re guilty of in that situation is being the most supportive person I could ask for. Onward and upward, right?”

He nods, softly smiling at me. “I think we’re going to be okay.”

“I think so too.”

And the next morning, when I feel the bed dip and watch Jack grab his pants and silently pad toward my door, I don’t even panic. I don’t even fear that he’s changed his mind and is leaving me. It’s a monumental moment in Emily Land.

“Where are you going?” I ask, and he pauses and turns to me with a smile. He makes his way back to my side of the bed, pushes my hair back from my face, and leans down to kiss my cheek.

“Someone’s coming to look at my bike.”

My eyes fully pop open now. “Because it’s so pretty?”

“Yes. And because he wants to buy it.”

“Jack!” I sit up.

He silences me with his finger like I did for him. “It’s been fun to drive but make no mistake, that bike is not important to me.Youare important to me. And I only had it for so long because…” He pauses and swallows, clears his throat, and tries again. “I’ve never felt important to someone else before. And now that I am—I don’t take that lightly. You’ve endured so much grief already. I won’t needlessly be the cause of any more of it in your life. The bike goes.”

I smile and then bite his finger. Just a little. Enough to make him grin.

13 years ago

FROM: Emily Walker

TO: Jack Bennett

DATE: Thu, August 18 9:10 AM

---