Page 11 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
“I’m fine,” I assure her, conscious of Jaxon’s presence beside me. “I have candles, batteries, food and I’m not alone. Jaxon’s here.” My eyes flick briefly to him before moving away.
“Jaxon? Why?” Her voice rises with each question.
“He stopped by to... discuss something.”
“Oh! I thought you two had finally decided to stop pretending to not be attracted to each other and do the nasty.”
I catch movement from the corner of my eye and turn to see Jaxon pointing to the door, mouthing “car”. I nod, returning to my conversation with Jasmine as he slips out.
“Girl, there’s no attraction and he’ll be on his way soon.”
We chat for a few more minutes before hanging up. I look around my suddenly dark apartment. No power meant no heat, no TV and no way to finish prepping for the most important interview of my career.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Moving around the apartment, I light candles I keep for emergencies and the occasional bath. Shadows elongate and dance across the walls as I work, the scent of vanilla filling the air.
I hear the door open and look up to see Jaxon. His expression is grim in the flickering candlelight.
“When will your tow be here?”
“Tomorrow.” He raises his right hand, revealing a gym bag. “You’re stuck with me for tonight.”
I grip the back of a chair, steadying myself against the influx of bad decisions waiting to happen. My brain scrambles for a response that isn’t ‘God help me.’
I watch him move about my space with confidence, and gradually, my breathing steadies. We’re adults. We can handle one night of proximity without the world ending.
It’s just one night. With Jaxon. In my apartment. During a power outage.
...I am so screwed.
“I could try walking back to my condo,” he says.
“You can’t possibly!” The words rush out before I can stop them. “You’ll freeze to death for sure.”
“It’s comforting to know you care about my welfare.”
“I prefer to not become a widow before I get a chance to end this marriage.”
“So, you’re acknowledging you’re my wife?” His voice holds a note of triumph.
“Sure, tell yourself whatever you need to,” I retort.
I can’t bring myself to deny it outright. The legal reality is undeniable, even if I plan to change it as soon as possible.
“Where’s your washroom?”
“It’s right down the hallway on your left,” I say, turning away to adjust a perfectly placed candle, needing something to do with my hands.
As his footsteps retreat down the hall, I let out a long, shaky breath. What have I gotten myself into? And more importantly, how am I going to get through this night without making another mistake I’ll regret in the morning?
Jaxon
“That couch isn’t suitablefor a child, let alone you,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “You’re sleeping in your bed.”
She’s been arranging and rearranging the same blanket for five minutes, her movements growing increasingly agitated. The candlelight catches the determination in her profile and the stubborn set of her mouth.
She doesn’t look at me. “I’ve slept on it before. It’s fine.”
