Page 94 of Broken Pact

“It was complicated then.”

“And it’s not now?” she asks.

“It’s less complicated now.” It’s easy really. Black and white, no room or need for any gray area.

We’re fake dating for an unconfirmed predetermined amount of time, to stave off my ex and his mother’s matchmaking skills.

That’s it.

Right?

“Okay,” she says, dragging the word out. “Well how long have you two been seeing each other?”

“A few weeks?”

“A few weeks!” she yells. The baby cries, and Evie makes that shushing, calming noise immediately. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Auntie Cora scared mommy, but I won’t raise my voice anymore. I don’t want to scare my best girl. No, I don’t.” She uses that baby talk tone of voice, and on anyone else, it’s grating and strange. But not my cousin. I swear there is a biological component to it because I’ve found myself slipping into the same tenor and speech pattern when I’m around her perfect baby too.

“I just want you to know that I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me about this sooner.”

It takes me a minute to realize she’s talking to me because she’s using the same cadence and high pitched tones.

I sigh, guilt compressing my lungs. “I’m sorry, Evie. It’s just new, and to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed about the way I acted before.”

"You mean declaring for the whole world that you wouldn't touch him again if it meant winning Miss Universe, adopting a pack of puppies, and receiving a lifetime supply of Nutella?" Evie quips, her tone equal parts amused and exasperated.

I wince at the memory, my cheeks heating. “Yeah, that. In my defense, I was drunk and heartbroken at the time. You can't hold the things I say under the influence of tequila and despair against me."

“Yeah, well. You can still talk to me, you know. Just because I had a baby doesn’t mean that I’m not still me.” Her voice sounds soft and a little wobbly.

My heart aches a little bit. “You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

She sniffs. “It’s fine. I already forgave you.”

“You’re an incredible mom, you know.”

She sniffs again. “I can be an incredible mom and best friend at the same time.”

“The literal best,” I confirm, nodding.

She exhales. “Okay, now that we’re past that, tell me everything. I’ve got twenty minutes before I have to feed her again, so start talking.”

I take another sip of my coffee and launch into the fastest recap of the last few weeks, sticking to the highlights and the good stuff. My smile grows wider with every gasped exclamation from my cousin.

Sharing the details of my rekindled connection with Jasper, even if I left out the fake dating part, makes it feel more real somehow. Like saying it out loud to someone else solidifies it.

I hang up twenty minutes later, feeling lighter and happier than before.

45

JASPER

I stand in front of the garage, watching Coraline’s car disappear out of the compound. A mix of emotions churn in my gut, pulling me in opposite directions. Half of me is still riding high from last night, every touch, every whisper playing on repeat in my head. The other half? It’s angry. Angry that the assholes dared to lay a hand on her two days ago are still walking around without a care.

And yeah, I’m a little fucking worried too. I can only hope that they don’t try anything in broad daylight.

It’s quite the dichotomy.

I turn back to the shop, the familiar scent of motor oil and metal grounding me. I walk over to my station, tools neatly arranged, and open the office laptop. A few keystrokes later, and six live footage feeds fill the screen. Three from Coraline’s apartment and three from her bakery. All externally, for now.

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