Page 30 of Jagger

“Trust me,” I nod surely. “It’s real as fuck. That’s why I want it.”

She watches me for a moment and blows out a flustered breath. “This is crazy…”

What’s crazy is how much of a bitch doubt was. How could one emotion hold the power to destroy the best things in our lives? It’d already robbed me of so much time with my daughter by haunting Calla.

I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Rubbing my thumbs along her cheeks, I hold her befuddled, uncertain stare, hoping she’ll see the conviction in my eyes. “Why does the time frame matter? I’m still here, right?”

“That’s what I question most,” she whispers.

My head rears back of its own volition. “What? Why I’m still here?”

A little nod.

Sighing, I lure her in closer. “I told you this already. I just want you, and it’s not some low key thing either.”

“Then what is it? A man like you, who does what he does, could have any woman he wants. Yet you’re after one with active baggage. Why?” she stresses.

“I can’t explain it, Vida. You turned my world on it’s ass when I least expected it. After Calla, I lived up the single life. Didn’t think I’d ever want to be with one person again. But since you happened, this,” I motion between her and I, “us, whatever you want to call it, I only want you. Seeing you in my home, while Mila was there, watching you two giggle and play as I made breakfast, that’s all I want. It’s all I need…”

Bang, bang, bang!

The door.

Someone’s at the door.

What the hell?

Vida looks as confused as I feel at the sudden intrusion, her hand falling flat at my chest to squeeze past me. She inches up on her tip-toes and looks through the peep hole, her eyes darting to mine nervously when she eases away, no words exchanged. All she offers is a finger to her lips, signaling me to keep quiet.

With a quick flip of the locks, she pulls open the door and wedges herself between the jamb.

“What are you doing here?” I hear her ask whoever stands on the other side.

Her visitor clears his throat—yes, his, as in another man—and then he says, “I was cleaning out the cellar when I found this.”

“Okay, and the point would be?”

“It just brought back such good memories. I figured maybe you’d want to share it with me once you saw it. You know I’d never be able to drink this with anyone but you,” he adds the last bit in a rush.

As I stand there in the kitchen, listening to their hushed conversation play out, the light bulb finally goes off in my head.

Dude at the door is her ex, Carl. It has to be, and the fact he won’t let up in his feat to reclaim her puts me in an instantly foul mood.

How often does he drop by?

Does she ever let him in?

Does he know anything about me?

Considering the fact she asked me to keep quiet, I doubt it, and the possibility only serves to irritate me further.

Regardless of the fact I don’t have the right to be.

Still, that deep-rooted sense of propriety completely takes a hold of me and I can’t—for the life of me—stop myself from doing what follows—especially when Vida seems to be growing more and more agitated at the fact that he won’t fucking leave.

Stalking over to where they converse, I pull open the door a ways more and make myself visible behind Vida. The moment she feels me at her back, her entire frame body goes rigid. She sucks in a deep breath as soon as I open my mouth.

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