Page 216 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

I back away, unsure what to do. Pretend I didn’t hear him yell or be honest with him? Secrets seem to be ruling the day, and it sounds like he’s dealing with a Mount Everest–sized one.

I return to the kitchen and take two sips of wine before steeling myself and righting my expression. I want to lighten his load, not add to it. “Jackson?” I call, too chipper. I sound fake even to my own ears.

He comes out and walks toward me. “Smells great.”

“Thanks. Want to have a drink with me before dinner’s ready?”

“Sure. Yeah.” He grabs a baby carrot from the baking sheet before I put it in the oven and crunches down on it. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good time. I think I have an appetizer for the secret wedding.”

“You work fast.”

“It was a good setup to talk about food.” I take a sip of wine while he grabs a lowball glass from the cabinet. I reach down for the bottle and say, “Let me get the drink for you.”

Jackson stops and looks at me, it’s only a second, but then he smiles—leisurely like he’s taking me in and liking what he sees. “Thanks.” Moving to the barstool, he gets comfortable.

I fill the glass two fingers high and set it in front of him. “Neat?” I ask, ready to grab ice if he prefers the whiskey chilled.

“This is perfect.”

“How do you feel about secrets?”

“Secrets will always come out.” Sipping from the glass, he keeps his eyes on mine. “What’s on your mind? The wedding or something else?”

I return the bottle to the cabinet and then take my glass of wine and stand with the counter between us. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, just to say that up front.”

“That’s not a good start.” He takes a gulp like he’s going to need a crutch.

“When the girls left, I went to tell you dinner was almost ready, but I just caught the tail end of a conversation that you were having on the phone.”

He dips his head into his hand, his eyes leaving mine, and rubs his forehead. When he looks up, defeat has set into his shoulders, making him slump. “What did you hear?”

This time, I gulp, worried I’ve already upset him when tonight was supposed to be about me showing my appreciation. “I overheard you say something about meeting with the lawyers.And I know you only need lawyers when you’re in trouble. Are you in trouble, Jackson?”

His blue eyes study mine, but I can see the war raging inside. He shifts the glass around on the counter, but I don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it as if it’s a nervous tic. My stomach clenches as my mind starts to spin in concern. Finally, he says, “Are you worried I’m keeping secrets from you?”

“I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to worry about me.” He stands, taking the drink in hand, and starts back down the hall. “Call me when the food’s ready,” he says, shutting the door to the office right after and leaving me in the kitchen with a romantic dinner for two.

Whatever secret he’s keeping, is it big enough to risk destroying us?Aren’t all secrets?

Do I listen and not worry about him?

It’s too late for that. I’m worried and a little shaken.I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this side of Jackson. He’s allowed to have a crappy day, but shutting me out is not the same as shielding me, if that’s what he’s trying to do.

What I do know is that my plans for tonight just went in the garbage.

CHAPTER 27

Jackson

“Implicating you, even suing you, doesn’t make you guilty,” Nick says, sitting near the head of the conference table. “It doesn’t even make you the party responsible for the damages Morgenstern is claiming.” Tapping the file in front of him, he finds my eyes at the other end of a table full of attorneys. “But it does mean you will have to address the lawsuit and accusation either outside the courtroom or inside. Your choice.”

“Outside means a settlement,” I say. “Fuck him. I don’t owe him a cent.” We’ve been in this room for hours. I’ve missed two calls from Marlow, which adds to the stress. My leg has been bouncing from the last thread keeping my patience intact. My anger, though . . . I’ve always had a temper when pushed into a corner. It’s starting to get the best of me.

Andrew leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table. “Inside the courtroom could cost millions to defend.” His head drops as he stretches his neck and rolls it back up. It’s been a long day, so I get it. “We all know it’s a frivolous lawsuit. He’s angry and lashing out, but his problem has become ours.”

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