“Hey, babe,” Jax says. “It’s done. I’m a free man.”
“The charges were dropped?” I say, feeling like I can finally put down the ton of bricks I’ve been carrying for days.
“Yep, all of them. Start packing.”
“Paris, here we come,” I say, joy and relief filling my chest.
“I love you, see you in a bit.”
“Love you more,” I say, before I hang up.
I go to the kitchen to make myself a much needed cup of coffee before I hit the shower. The vicious circle that began the morning I found out Madison was dead, can finally come to an end. I’ve come to terms with the fact I might never find out who was the actual person that went to her apartment that tragic night and took her life.
Jaxson’s uncle, Lucius, has given us the bigger picture and neither Jaxson, nor me, not even Lucius himself, can take it upon ourselves to bring the Bronson family to justice. I wish there was a way but there’s not. You don’t mess with these people. I understand that now.
Our trip to Paris will be bittersweet, especially knowing Madison had visited many times as a fashion model, but it will also be the beginning of my new life with Jax. I have to get used to that. It’s the only good thing that came out of my short stint at the Daily Scandal.
When Jaxson comes home, he lifts me up and won’t put me down even after I beg him to.
“I’m totally capable of using my feet,” I tell him, but the truth is I wouldn’t change his crazy affection for the world.
“Did you pack yet?” he says as he sets me down finally with a kiss.
Seriously? He wants me to start packing right away? “We don’t even have tickets yet,” I tease him.
“Oh, yes we do,” he tells me, producing the evidence from his back pocket.
I take the tickets in my hands, studying them. “Jax, these are for tomorrow,” I screech.
“Do you have anything better to do?”
God, I’ll smack his gorgeous face till he begs for mercy. “Yes, actually, I’d like to do my hair and my nails and buy some clothes and visit with my mom, hello!”
“Your mom can visit us in Paris,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I like your mom. Will you tell her I’m Jack?”
“Of course, I will,” I say, punching his shoulder lightly.
“Do you think she’ll like me?”
“No, but you’ll grow on her.”
He takes his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. My eyes focus on the engraved name on his chest. So fucking awesome. Never thought I could get wet for a tat.
“I’m going to hit the shower,” he says. “Today’s your lucky day. I’m taking you to Olive Garden for dinner.”
“Screw, Spago. Olive Garden rocks,” I yell as he runs up the stairs. Today could very well be the first day of the rest of our lives.
*
When we step out of the restaurant, Jax takes my hand in his. I love how he needs to hold me all the time. The evening is cool and the little shopping center is empty except for a family of four rushing to get to the movie theater across the street.
“Do you want to walk a little?” I ask him, squeezing his hand. We need to start doing more simple, regular things.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, looking at me with hungry eyes. “I never knew how good walking after dinner could be until I met you.”
Sometimes I worry that if I close my eyes, it will all be gone when I open them. But here we are, strolling around the shopping center hand in hand, only hours before we leave for Paris in the morning.
“Jaxson Cole?” Female voices from every direction start screaming out his name, startling me. It’s like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Eight or nine college girls have spotted us and are moving in fast.
They circle Jaxson like he’s the only man left on Earth and they are hungry nymphomaniacs ready to repopulate the planet.
“My God,” one of them says, her mouth turning into an O of complete bewilderment. “Is that really you?”
“Guilty,” Jax says, taking on an expression I’ve never seen before, an expression of complacency that he’s cultivated for his public persona and his fans. It’s odd to me that he looks pleased somehow.
The girls start talking at the same time and I’m left staring, unsure as to what I should do while they throw every slutty flirt move in the book at my boyfriend. They pull up skirts and pull down blouses wanting their flesh signed. Where’s that gun when I need it?
Jax humors them with a sexy grin on his face and I begin to get mad, especially when one of the girls shoves me aside like I’m a nuisance.
“What the hell,” I manage to say before a hand grabs me from behind, blocking my mouth. I twist my body instinctively to free myself when another hand grabs me and then another. I desperately try to catch Jax’s attention but it’s pointless. Handcuffs are placed around my wrists, a vicious hand keeping my mouth shut.