AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Very well put. And won’t it be nice to enjoy some ‘you time’ without Mom around?” She grins. “We’ll meet back here in a few hours.”
Maria disappears into the crowded food court. “Did your mom just… encourage us to have a quickie?”
Jules laughs until she’s out of breath. “No, babe. She’s cool but not that cool.” She leans in for a kiss, then whispers into my ear. “Why, are you in the mood for one? Because I wouldn’t mind getting absolutely railed in the fitting room at Saks.” When she moves away, I see that her smirk is downright diabolical. Lustful.
I love that I’m not alone in having nymphomaniacal tendencies. And sex in public places isn’t something we do solely out of necessity. She prefers a bed, but she does have a bit of exhibitionism in her. Like me, she finds the possibility of being caught in a compromising position thrilling. It’s as if I sensed that in her. We share the same kink, and I’m normally very happy to indulge her, but right now I think the stress of this weekend, compounded by the stress of concocting a plan to dethrone both of our fathers, is weighing so heavy on my shoulders that all I want to do is hold her.
“Is it okay if I’m not? If I want to just sit here in this booth with my arms around you?”
The fire in her eyes is instantly replaced by a mellower glow. Funny how she can switch the devil off and the angel on with such swiftness. She slides her legs up onto the bench, pushes her back into my side, takes my forearms into her hands, and folds herself into me. Head perched against my shoulder, she says, “Cuddlebug Rowan is my favorite Rowan.”
I kiss the crown of her head. “Yeah. Turns out I like her, too.”
We sit that way as I update her on the situation with the Rossis, the meal my dad arranged tomorrow night. And then we don’t talk much. Two hours pass with me holding her, until Maria returns with a sparkly diamond tennis bracelet on her left wrist.
She shimmies it so the fluorescent light refracts. “Mama’s got that brand-new bling. Hold on, have you two been right here where I left you this entire time?”
Jules doesn’t move. “Yes.”
“I’m not sure when I’ll get to see her again after today. I’m trying to fill up on her, I guess.”
“Ah, young love.” Maria beams. “I remember that.”
I walk them to their car. The kiss Jules gives me as we say goodbye is not chaste; I’m aware of her mother’s presence as her lips are on mine, and even more so after they’re not anymore. All Maria does is let out a small “ha” when she reads my embarrassment. Jules says, “Remember that when you’re sitting next to Elisa tomorrow night.”
“Possessiveness is cute on you.”
“Happy to hear it, ’cause you’re mine.”
“I am. Completely.” I open the car door for her, and she goes a touch pink in the cheeks.
TWENTY-ONE
JULES
I can’t stand the sight of my father after what I discovered about him yesterday. The same goes for Teague. He must be aware of something, if not everything. I avoided them last night, but it’s well into the afternoon and the rumblings of hunger are making it impossible to continue avoiding them.
I find them at the kitchen table. Always the damn kitchen table. Its clear glass top is the only thing in the room that’s translucent, nothing to hide and nowhere to hide it. They’re scheming. I can tell because silence blankets the room when I walk in. I don’t want to know what they’re up to. It’s too big, too much. I can’t block out the brutality anymore. All I can picture is that box of grenades, those tiny handheld bombs, and where they’ll end up—the absolute destruction they’ll cause. Will they be used to murder unsuspecting villagers on their way to the local watering hole? Or by insurgents to kill enemy soldiers over manmade borders, or for oil, or for worshipping a different God? To think someone could pull a pin out of something the size of a tennis ball and wipe out an entire room of living souls… It’s barbaric.
“Good morning. Or afternoon,” Teague says in a joking way that falls flat.
“Don’t smile. You look like one of those inbred freaks from The Hills Have Eyes.”
“Savage burn.”
“Yes, ‘savagely burned’ could also be used to describe your face in its current condition.”
“Gimme a break, J. I’m trying,” he says to my back as I rifle through the fridge.
Honestly, what is he trying to do? Win me over? Get me to trust or even like him again? The odds of a massive meteor striking the earth and extinguishing all life are higher than that happening. He tracked my location, hunted me down, cracked me in the face with a handgun, and, oh yeah, tried to murder the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. He has no path to forgiveness. I’m a Scorpio. We elevate the art of holding grudges to a science.
I was going to make myself a sandwich, but instead settle for something quick and portable in the form of a pre-packaged yogurt parfait.
“Basic politeness is ‘trying’ to you. Noted,” I reply as I hurry to make my escape.
Dad stops me. “Jules, just a minute. Come sit with us, please.”
“Can’t. The Red Sox are tied with the Yankees in the ninth.” Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. There is a game on but I’m not watching it. Rowan says I hex them—they always lose when I watch.
