I relax because neither of them looks the least bit guilty. Plus if Jack had fucked her, her hair wouldn’t be so perfect.
“We’re going home?”
He walks up, thoughts racing in his eyes. “I had a feeling our vacation was over so I went to the front desk and asked for an exception. Agneta just got here to tell me, since she’s going home and was walking past. I know you. You’re not one to hang around when you’re done with a place.”
I throw my arms around him. “I want to go home!”
His embrace tightens, muscles flexing like a delicious vise of protection. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Gorgeous. Not with me around. Where’s Troy?”
I pull back so I can see his face when I tell him, “Jack, I think we might have a problem.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
JACK
Finally I find Troy on a floating bed by himself, a group of single girls nearby paying close attention, especially now that there are two of us. There are five of them. I hope they don’t try to come over while I am here. I don’t have the patience to be nice.
“We’re heading back soon.”
He looks up and follows me as I sit down, eyes guarded.
Since he doesn’t say anything I clarify, “Back to Atlanta.”
He mutters, “Guess the party is over.”
“This is life, not a party.”
He shoots me a look. “You’re going to act all wise now?”
Gathering patience but finding little, I tell him, “Marion reported back that you want a paternity test. That you’re set on it. That maybe it’s a dealbreaker for you. This true?”
His jaw ticks. “Maybe.” We’re both staring forward now as he says, “I think this has been coming for a while, Jack. The baby is a catalyst. I need something to be mine.”
“I see.”
He eyeballs me from the side. “You’re so positive it’s yours.”
“It’s math.”
I don’t have to explain more than that. I’m usually the first with Marion, he follows. It’s almost always the way. If the baby is Troy’s then it’s one of those rare times when I gave him the go ahead. It hadn’t really occurred to me until we’ve come face to face with the consequences, how our hierarchy was subconsciously set up.
It’s not just because I am the more successful one, or even because I’m a more dominant male than he is, in general. Which I am.
To me, Marion is mine. My friend has been brought in only because she wants him. And I would give her anything she wants. Maybe it’s because I’ve known her since she was a kid, but I have a bond with that woman that goes deeper than my ego.
I love her.
In all the ways.
“We’ll see,” he says with finality. But thinks again and adds, “You didn’t even want a kid!”
Two girls from the party of five approach. They hover and exchange glances like they aren’t sure exactly what to do. I lock eyes with one and shake my head. They abort their mission, stiff with pride. Troy glances to them, shakes his head and returns to the sea.
The floating bed wobbles as I step off. “We could go over this on the plane, or back home. Our bags are packed. Let’s go.”
Troy doesn’t want to follow my lead, and this is becoming stale. He can find his own way back then because I’m not watching a grown man act like a child.
In our hotel room, Marion is propped on the back of our white couch, suitcases in neat lines in front of her like she straightened them to feel she had control over something. Her dark hair is long and flowing over her shoulders, sunglasses holding it back. Troubled eyes light up and she stands, expecting Troy to walk in. When I shut the door she asks, “Didn’t you find him?”
I grumble, “Let’s have these brought out,” heading for the hotel phone.
“I already called them. Somebody will be here any second.” As I look at her, Mar shrugs one shoulder. “I wanted to help.”
“I like taking care of you.”
She whispers, “Jack. I’m so sorry. I fucked it all up.”
Rushing to gather her into my arms, grabbing her sunglasses so she can burrow into me, I reassure my love, “You think I didn’t have some part of this? Was it all your responsibility? No. This is my doing so don’t ever say that again.”
“I was the one taking birth control. I was the one who was supposed to renew it.”
“Yeah, well, I was the one who was paying for it so I should’ve noticed it hadn’t been renewed.”
“I think you have enough bills to worry about without paying attention to that one.”
Pulling back, I lift her chin. “I’m going to take care of you. Both of you. Even if it’s Troy’s, but I can assure you that there is not a single cell in my body that believes it is. Yes, it took me a second to figure out my stance. I needed to think. But my gut instinct has said from day-one of giving into my love for you, that this is forever. If a child is going to join our family, if that’s our path, then I’m gonna make that one happy child.”
Marion blinks up at me, her tears made beautiful with a smile. “We won’t be traditional parents, will we?“
“I don’t even know what that means, so probably not.”
She laughs and goes quiet, then whispers, “I love you.”
I kiss her to show her how I feel, and she responds by yielding to me, her body softening. All my love flows to her from my lips, the strength of my grip.
Marion moans a little and we don’t notice we’re not alone until seconds later when Troy clears his throat in a way that says it all.
Chapter Thirty-Three
MARION
Those flights home were worse than being trapped in a salon chair for fifteen hours with a boring, gossipy stylist who thinks they’re interesting.
Even worse is that, because our plans abruptly changed, we had two layovers, a nuisance Jack never chooses if he can help it. With the extensive traveling his business entails, he cuts unnecessary delays from his already sardined schedule in order to see me more.
Right now they're lugging my suitcases into our home like it’s a competition. At least Troy is. Jack is just being Jack, quiet and carrying whatever load needs carrying. That’s how he handles everything in life; it’s why we both rely on him so much.
But Troy is much younger in more ways than just age. I used to love that about him — his childlike enthusiasm and happy-go-lucky attributes — but the flip side of immaturity sucks. Like a petulant child who lost permission to play, he’s barely spoken since walking in on Jack kissing me back at Cavo Tagoo. An event that on any other day would’ve been a normal occurrence and part of how we live — I kiss them both all the fucking time! — this time rubbed him the wrong way, and shipped him off to the land of Asshole.
It’s a real place.
I faced him in the terminal before we left Greece. “Are you going to talk to me, Troy?”
He shrugged, “I need a minute,” eyes hard, lips tense.
Then in Paris where we changed planes for Atlanta, never leaving the terminal, I waited until Jack was out of earshot before I commented with more than a touch of sarcasm, “That’s a pretty long minute.”