“For the time being, I’ll stay in Australia,” I say. I’m not ready to leave Jessica yet. I’m also well aware of the importance of sticking with my routine. Constance will be proud. Maybe she’ll stop trying to force meditation on me now. A man can live in hope. “I’ll go through your list and email you this afternoon.”
“Are you hiring a new assistant soon?”
I’m beginning to fucking wonder if all the women in my life are secretly conspiring to force my ass into gear. “Why?”
“Because it’s time, Jack. If you’re looking at taking on some appearances and getting back to work in six months, it’s time.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it.”
“Good.”
We end the call, and I help Lorelei and Jessica with our bags.
Jessica’s phone rings and she steps away to take the call. I reach for the bags she’s got so she can focus on the call. Her eyes meet mine as she speaks, full of thanks, before she shifts all her attention to the call.
Axe steps in and helps with the bags as Lorelei and Jessica go ahead. “I’m going to need a little time with you this afternoon to go over your schedule,” he says.
I like working with Axe. His attention to detail is beyond anyone’s I’ve ever had as security. He’s quick to make decisions and takes a no-nonsense approach to every situation. He’s also fucking capable when it comes to dealing with the paparazzi and clearing them away.
“Is after lunch good for you?”
He nods. “Yeah.” He pauses before adding. “My guess is it won’t be long until the paps turn up, so I’m going to get the guys to ensure everything is as secure as it can be here. We can talk after I take care of that.”
“That works for me.”
We head up to Jessica’s apartment, which is a two-level waterfront garden apartment with jaw-dropping views of Sydney Harbour, Harbour Bridge, the CBD, and the Opera House. It’s fucking stunning, and being in one of the most sought-after areas of Sydney, I imagine cost her a small fortune.
The open-plan living and dining area on the bottom level open out to a lawn, covered terrace, and pool. The lavish kitchen fills a lot of the space downstairs, all gold and cream, while opulent lighting throughout creates the kind of luxurious ambience that screams Jessica.
I follow her upstairs which is just as classy as the lower level.
“This is our room,” she says, leading me into a large bedroom. I barely notice the room because all I notice is her use of the word ‘our’, which I fucking love. “My office is across the hall, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be in there all afternoon and most of tonight.” She comes to me and puts her hands to my chest before sliding them around my body and resting them on my ass. “After we have lunch, that is. I had my housekeeper stock my fridge this morning, and I think you should make us some of your gourmet sandwiches for lunch.”
I bend my face and kiss her, taking my sweet time. “I don’t recall you liking bread this much six years ago.”
“I didn’t. I cared too much about it ending up on my hips. Also, you didn’t know your way around a gourmet sandwich back then like you do now, so this is mostly your fault.”
I grin. “I’ll take the blame. And I’ll introduce you to all my different sandwiches. You’ll never give up bread again.”
“Jesus, Jack, how many different sandwiches do you have? I still kinda care about my hips.”
“Enough to keep you interested for a long time. And I’m going to dedicate my time to creating more so I can keep your interest for life.”
“Trust me, those shirts of yours will do that. You do not need to find more sandwiches to tempt me with.” She lets me go. “We should get back downstairs to Lorelei. She’s staying for lunch.”
“I’m on it. You catch up with her while I make lunch.”
“I could get used to having you around,” she says, turning to exit the bedroom.
My eyes instantly glue themselves to her ass and I follow her out. “You better get used to having me around, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere soon.”
I intend on making her sandwiches for life.
We have lunch with Lorelei who tells us she’s concerned about the level of stress Ashton is under in London. Jessica assures her that his stress should ease soon, that the new team he’s hired over there should make a difference. After she leaves, Jessica holes up in her office while I chat with Axe about our security measures he’s putting into place here. I then go through Rose’s list and select options from it that I don’t think will disrupt my recovery. I text Constance my daily check-in. She texts back that she’s still wondering when I’m going to get my shit together and text her on time. I let her know I’ll forever be a work-in-progress. I then wander out to Jessica’s terrace that overlooks the river, pull up a chair, and spend a few hours reading the book she recommended to me.
I make a simple dinner of chicken and salad for us, and Jessica stops work for half an hour to eat with me. We sit outside and chat a little about her meeting tomorrow. She tells me she’s confident she’ll achieve Ashton’s goal, and then asks me about my phone call with Rose. I tell her I’ve decided to slowly start showing my face here in Australia, but that I’ll continue putting my health first.
We only get half an hour together before she has to go back to work, but I love every second of that half hour, and can’t help but think of all the dinners out here we’ve got ahead of us.
Just after eleven, Jessica slips into her bed next to me where I’ve been reading for an hour.
“Today was long but good,” she says, rolling onto her side and snuggling against me, her arms and legs owning me in ways I’ve thought about many times over the years.
I place my book on the bedside table and put my arm around her. “What was your front runner?”
She looks up at me, her eyes shining with memories. I know that’s what’s happening because it’s what’s happening for me too. The question I just asked her is a Jessica and Jack tradition. When we have kids, it’ll become part of our family lore.
Where some families do highs and lows, or favourites, we do front runners.
It started the first year we were together. I was nominated for an Oscar and was a front runner. I found it a little stressful due to the pressure my agent at the time put me under to win it. Jessica and I had a fight one night thanks to my stress forcing all my common sense out the window. I ranted about hearing that fucking term everywhere I went. I told her I wanted it fucking removed from the dictionary because being a front runner wasn’t all it was fucking cracked up to be.
I was irrational and she didn’t hesitate to point my shit out to me. She told me I was a dickhead for not appreciating everything I had going on in my life. She then proceeded to use the term every day for two weeks straight until the Oscars. One of her ways was to ask me at the end of every day what my front runner of the day was. What was the best thing that had happened to me that day. The question stuck, and she asked me it every night after that.
“That’s a hard choice today,” she says softly, pressing herself harder against me.
“Why?”