Page 21 of Unwrapping Spring Break

Yes, she vehemently defended her actions to her father, but it’s not the same as her declaring her feelings for me. For all I know, to her, this is just a fling. A spring break tryst. Something to forget when we get home.

Suddenly, an uncertainty fills me—something I haven’t felt since high school. It should be ludicrous, laughable—a man my age suffering from insecurity—and yet here I am.

Before I can decide whether to answer, the call goes to voicemail. It could be one way of knowing how she feels without having to talk to her. I’m not sure if voicemails are her thing, but if she has something to get off her chest, she’ll probably track me down in person.

That’s when I hear pounding on the door to my room. It’s so abrupt it snaps me out of my musings. I sigh, which is more an expression of disgust for myself than anything. Then I walk a few steps to open the door, crossing my fingers Alexander is not on the other side. With as urgent as the knocking is, seeing him would be just my luck. I pull open the door with the intent to tell him to go to hell.

Instead, Gretchen stands before me with a challenge on her face. I’ve never seen her wear this expression before. And, if I’m honest, it’s not something I ever want to see again, no matter the outcome. It’s daunting. Even more so when she shoves me back into my room so she can rush past me.

“Why don’t you come in, Gretchen.” My sarcasm isn’t quite enough. Sadly, the click of the door doesn’t mask my words as she spins around to face me. I forgot how sharp her hearing is.

“Don’t be smart,” she snaps, then points at one of the chairs. “Sit.”

What else would I do? Gretchen is one person I would never dare cross, even though I may have already done that by sleeping with her daughter. Still, I obey and take a seat, preparing myself for her wrath.

She remains silent. She looks down her nose at me, lifting her chin with indignation. This isn’t her smug look. I’ve seen that look at plenty of functions, usually directed at someone who wants something from her. No, this is her scarier expression. She’s going to speak, demanding my full attention. And I’m going to sit here, listen, and answer her questions.

“Tell me, Jaxon.” Her tone is stoic. “And don’t lie, because I’ll know if you do. What precisely are your intentions with Lily, and how did this happen?”

Whoa. This is the last thing I expected.What the hell were you thinking?Orhave you lost your mind?Those two I expected, but not this. I did something she would gossip about for months, but Gretchen sounds like she approves. My future lies in my answer and her hands.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe my hand over my face. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you everything.” I wait until she sits across from me, and only then do I make a full confession.

Chapter Seventeen

Lily

I’msurprisedMotherdoesn’timmediately distinguish between the language Dad used and what it implied when directed at Jax. Mother isn’t so repressed as to believe you should abstain from intercourse until after you’re married, but like every other mother, she doesn’t want to know about her daughter’s sex life.

Fathers too. Which is why Dad’s having a hissy fit about this. And it’s more than just Jax’s age. Sure, being his business partner did cross a line of decency, but it’s a thin one at best. However, neither reason gives him the right to act the way he is. I don’t appreciate it, and I’m certainly not going to let him get away with it.

I realize he’s my dad and I have to show him some degree of respect, but I am not a teenager anymore. Those years were the worst, and I’d never go back. He needs to see I’m not his little girl anymore. I’ve grown up.

Earlier, I was too light when giving my opinion about his behavior when Dad turned his venom on Jax. The hostility he spewed from his mouth shocked me out of my own anger. Well, at least for the moment. I don’t want to be in his line of sight, so I edge my way toward Mother. She looks more than a little surprised by my father too, but she places a hand on my shoulder like she did when I was a little girl and needed reassurance.

The argument between Dad and Jax doesn’t last long, mainly because Jax storms out before Dad can say something he can’t take back. Still, it seems as though I’ve single-handedly destroyed a partnership as old as I am. And yet, it’s his own fault.

We’re all adults.

After a few moments of silence, I step toward my dad. “Dad, this is ridiculous. You’re being unreasonable.”

He jerks away from me as if I caught a deadly disease. “This conversation is over.” His tone makes it clear he’s not going to say or hear another word on the matter.

I’m beyond hurt by his actions, so the only thing I can do is sigh. I look at Mother, but her expression is flat, unreadable. I can’t recall ever seeing this look on her face. Usually, she’ll put on whatever emotional mask she wants people to believe. This blankness is a little frightening and doesn’t help me at all.

“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “Whatever.” I move toward the door and open it. If he wants to talk to me again, he’ll have to make the first move. Dad made this mess. He’s going to have to live with it.

The door softly clicks behind me, even though my mind screams to slam the door shut.

Making my way back to my room, I debate calling Jax from the elevator, but other guests are present when I step in. It takes every ounce of control I have not to text him. I remind myself with each passing floor that some conversations shouldn’t be had over text. Jax deserves better than that, even if I am angry with him. So I wait until I get back into my room.

I put the phone on speaker while I grab my suitcase and throw it on the bed. My call rings out and gets sent to his voicemail, which tells me he doesn’t want to talk. I growl in frustration and press the button to end the call, not bothering to leave a message, then toss it in my handbag.

Men are so stupid!I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but I don’t want to handle a noise complaint from another guest. See, at least one of us can act like an adult.

Surprisingly, no one has complained to the hotel about us, considering the display of family drama. I’m not going to take that chance, though.

Packing up my things as quickly as possible, I think about where I’m going. Staying here is not an option anymore. I can’t just get another room like I did last time. There’s no way in hell I will continue to stay in the same hotel as my dad. There will be no chance meetings by the pool or the bar.

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