Page 67 of Extra Dirty

Looming over her, I wrap one hand around her throat and hold her in place while I lick her lips and kiss her through the tidal wave of our simultaneous orgasms. “I love you,” I whisper as I collapse on top of her.

“Take me home, Jay.” Her erratic heartbeat matches mine. “And don’t ever let me go.”

33

SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS BY THE CHAINSMOKERS AND COLDPLAY

Cat

My reflection in the computer screen is almost comical. The song Jay just sent me makes me smile wider than I think I ever have.

After all this time, we’re finally getting a second chance.

And he didn’t abandon his child. He never knew about Chloe. He still doesn’t.

Chloe. My heart constricts at the thought of her. Next week, Cynthia is leaving her in my care. She’s taking her to New York City for a few days before school starts, but then it’s just Chloe and me.

I need to tell Jay.

He needs to know he has a daughter.

And I need to talk to Cynthia. Twelve years ago, she gave up more than she ever should have to take on my daughter. To help me when I needed it most. She deserves to control the narrative as much as we do.

I hate the secrets, the lies, the plotting.

But this isn’t a magazine article or a book. This is real life. I have to approach it with thought. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t just blurt out the truth to Jay last night.

Every one of us deserves better than that.

I close out the document I’ve been working on all summer and beeline for Cynthia’s office. The office buzzes around me. In the corner, Dexter is flipping through a rack of clothes. He groans when he comes across an orange number that I’m pretty sure he just called the most hideous piece of clothing to ever be created. I stifle a laugh and look to my left, where Rose is guiding a group of interns around the office. I study each one of them, wondering who will actually make it through the year. In the middle of the pack are two girls who look as awestruck as I felt on my first day.

I may be nervous about Cynthia’s departure next week, and I may feel unprepared to do this parenting thing on my own, but that look right there reminds me that I’ve been striving to be her since the first day I walked into this office. From the moment I laid eyes on her.

And here I am, likely the next editor-in-chief ofJolie. That reminder alone is all I need to be sure that I can handle whatever life throws at me.

I’ll be someone my daughter will be proud of. Someone she can look up to. And all of that starts with telling her and Jay the truth.

At Cynthia’s door, I knock twice before entering. When she sees me, she smiles and motions for me to sit as she finishes up a call. I pick up the photograph on her desk and smile. Chloe looks so damn much like Jay. She’s even been blessed with the confident air he has. And she’s a natural negotiator. Whether she’s trying to talk me into taking her to her favorite restaurant every night of the week or convincing us to take her to fashion shows that don’t even start until after her bedtime.

She’s going to give me a run for my money over the next few years. And I can’t help but smile when I think of how she’ll likely wrap Jay right around her finger the moment she meets him.

“Where’s Chlo?” I ask as she hangs up the phone. I want to have this conversation before they leave for New York, but I don’t want Chloe hearing it. Not yet, at least.

“Oh, Sophie took her back to see Dexter. They’re going through outfits for the November edition and asked for Chloe’s opinion.”

I snicker. “Oh my God. That willsogo to her head.”

“You look good,” Cynthia says. She’s got her head tilted as she studies me.

I place the picture back on her desk, fold my hands across my knees, and clear my throat. “Jay doesn’t know about Chloe.”

Her eyes go wide. “What?”

I swallow and search for the best way to explain. “It’s a whole story, but the bare bones are that when his father was killed, he was attacked too—Cyn, my grandfather had his phone all these years. He never got my messages.”

Cynthia leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. “Fuck,” she whispers.

“Obviously, I need to tell him,” I rush out. “He deserves to know he has a daughter.”

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