“I don’t need a break. I’m done.” Sadly, it was true. Jackson thinks he have been done for a while, and this competition was a last-ditch effort to see if there could be common ground between his aunt and him about the direction House Corbin was heading. But if anything, it’s shown that there’s none. He thinks Jacqueline knows it too, but she will never admit it. She will never confess to setting him up, hoping he would come around to see things her way so he would stop challenging her place on the throne. And then he processed what his aunt just said. “What do you mean our ‘so-called family’?” “That’s what she called us.” She makes it sound like he was supposed to be offended at the label, but that’s not what’s bothering him. “When?” Jackson asks carefully, sensing that there’s another bomb about to explode and needing to be thoughtful in his approach. Jacqueline waves her hand, unconcerned. “When I saw her in the workroom. I wanted to make sure she knew that she’d brought this on h
Jackson doesn't know how that’s remotely possible, but he was not one to turn down Madame Laurent’s bread or her advice. So he takes it from her shaking hand andpress an appreciative kiss to her cheek. When she’s not looking, he drops a bill in the can she uses to hold her cash. “Merci, Mademoiselle.” She smiles at the slight improvement in his tone and the smart flirt. “Oh, you are much too young for a woman like me, but perhaps you are exactly what Monica needs.” She winks and shoos him off down the road. Somehow, Jackson does feel better. Or at least like he still have a mission—find Monica. Then what? He doesn't know, but they have to talk this out. If it doesn’t work, he will have to find a way to accept the loss, but he won’t do that without trying. Monica and he deserves to have that, without anyone else’s interference. At the office, he falls into his chair and take a bite of the baguette as he gauges how long it will take him to pack up. No more than an hour, which is ridic
“On that note, I would like to inform you that I have givenJacqueline my notice of resignation, effective immediately. I am here today only to empty my office and have closure on the competition, because while it was not my design in the end, it was my idea from the beginning. It has been a pleasure working with you.” Jackson gives a polite slight bow, glancing around the table quickly, and steps out from his place at the end of the table for the last time. "Jackson,” Jacqueline calls after him, desperate. He doesn't even turns around.Monica was back in the hustle and bustle of New York City, but she was the one plodding along, barely keeping up with the crowd. The noise of the traffic, the city, and the people was both familiar and alien after the month in Paris, where things are quieter and slower. She stops and grab a hot dog from a street vendor. It’s not what she should eat, and definitely not a good breakfast option, but the smell attracts her, and given that she haven’t eate
Still, talking with Claire helps Monica get to the office, even if she was a little late. But everything feels dreary,especially with Nora being a happy, bouncy ball of pregnancy hormones.N“Oh, thank you!” she says gleefully when she hands her the decaf coffee. “I know it’s just a mental thing, but I miss these so much when they’re not part of my morning! And don’t tell Clay, but wherever he was going, or whatever he was ordering, was nothing compared to this.” Clasping her cup in bothhands, Nora looks at it affectionately. “Glad I could do something right.” “You do lots of things right. That’s why I’m so glad to have you back. Wish it were under better circumstances, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.” They talked over the weekend so she would know to expect her back at the office, and she spilled her guts to her more fully than Monica did with Claire. Nora knows everything. “You did. I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Monica admits. “I’m not. It sucks, I know it does, but what’s that
“Except I had to make my Grindr profile private again.” “Damn, again?” When Clay nods miserably, Monica asks, “Why?” “Blind date. Bad Dragon. Don’t Google it, just trust me.” He holds his hands up, waving them back and forth with wide eyes as he shakes his head slowly. “Not kink shaming, but not my thing. I prefer dildos that are . . .humanoid?” That sounds like a question, but she was not sure she can go there right now. If it’s not human, what kind of penises—penisi?—are they talking? Thankfully, she doesn't get the chance to find out because Clay’s phone rings and he looks back to his desk. “Good to have you back. Let me know if you change your mind about the outing.” Monica gets back to work, getting up to speed with what she have missed, but it feels different now too. It’s as hollow as she was. She was almost glad when her phone rings and she sees that it’s Molly. She was a welcome distraction, and her enthusiasm for life is undeniable. She would like to wallow in self-loathi
“Uh, hey. What are you . . . I mean, hey, Molly!” Monica tries to inject some excitement, but she was shocked and was kinda looking forward to curling up on the couch alone for pity party round ten tonight. She have got Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince already cued up to watch and her book on the coffee table so she can follow along and point out all the differences. Belatedly, she stands and hugs her. To her surprise, it feels good to have Molly’s support, even if it’s out of the blue. She was there, she knows what it was like . . . at least a little bit. “Are you fucking with me? ‘Hey, Molly!’ is all you have got for me? I flew across the Atlantic for you, to New York City, during the hell months of heat, you know?” Monica cracks a smile at that. They used to say their favorite season in New York is fall, because it’s cool and pretty, and that’s when fashion week is. Right now, it’s hot outside and a walk down the street can leave you wetter than a good fuck. Not that she w
“Uhm . . . well . . .” Monica falls quiet, unable to find the words. “Okay, how about this instead . . . stop me if I’m wrong. He got one look at that twerking ass on day one and was smitten. Chased you all over Paris until he got in your pants, or more likely, got you out of them. He fucked you stupid and sore at every possible opportunity, and you caught the feels. When Chloe pulled her stunt, you went DEFCON Five and blew everything up. ’Bout right?” Monica's eyes have fallen to the table where she was studiously choosing a type of cheese as if it’s a life and death decision. She means, is heartbreak more of a cheddar or a blue cheese situation? “DEFCON One. Five is the best, one is the worst. But it wasn’t only sex. It was . . . more. Or I thought it was.”“Was it the real deal?” Molly asks around the cheese she picked easily and shoved into her mouth. “More real than anything I have ever felt before. More real than what I felt of Julien and having a kid who was barely a living be
“Wait, rewind that.” Molly rewinds the video, and Monica watches as Jackson's lips, mid-kiss, say ‘what the fuck’, and then an instant later, the kiss is over. Monica can’t see Jackson's face as they walk back, but she can see the muscles in his back popping and the way his hand is clenched before he forcefully relaxes it. “I didn’t believe him either when he begged for my help,” Molly tells Monica. “Hung up on him three times before Tobias got me to watch the video, which I then went over with a detective-level, fine-toothed comb before agreeing tohelp this idiot.” Monica looks from Molly to Jackson, Jackson to Molly, and realize that they have conspired to get her here tonight for this. The Times Square billboard, both of them in New York, the apology . . . like it’s all some grand gesture. Wait . . . the apology. “You haven't apologized yet,” Monica says sternly. Jackson meets her eyes, cupping her chin as though he can’t not touch her. “I am sorry that I hurt you. My intention