Must Be Crazy: (Melissa and Jackson) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 2) (23 page)

“I know she’s scared,” I say. “I am, too. I’m scared as fuck, but I’m here.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says.

Does she seem impressed? Or surprised?

“I thought I had it all figured out,” I say. “I found her a doctor, and I’ll replace her truck so she can fit a car seat, and I funded a trust for college. This is what I can do, Nicole. I can take care of her.”

Nicole nods. “Sure, you can do all that. And it’s good. I’m not gonna lie, I’m impressed. I know I don’t know you very well, but when she first told me, I kind of thought … I don’t know, like you’d try to get out of this somehow.”

“That’s apparently what she thinks too,” I say.

“No, it isn’t,” she says. “But it
is
what she’s afraid of.”

“Why?”

“Well, you guys haven’t known each other very long,” she says. “It’s been, what, a couple of months at the most? Now she’s facing this huge change, and she’s afraid it’s going to be too much for you. She’s steeling herself for you to walk out, so it doesn’t hurt so much if you do.”

“I’m not walking out,” I say. “I don’t want to. Fuck, I’d do anything for her. You know what, maybe I’ll go buy a minivan. That will show her I’m serious.”

“A minivan?” Nicole says, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah. A nice family car.”

“What are you going to do, roll up in front of her house in your daddy-wagon?”

“Yes,” I say, brightening. “Exactly.”

“Oh my god, don’t,” she says.

“Why?”

“Are you Richard Gere?” she asks.

“What?”

“Is she a prostitute?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

“No? Then stop trying to reenact
Pretty Woman
. A white limo and roses, or a white minivan, are not what she needs from you.”

“Then what does she need?” I ask. “I thought I could show her I mean it.”

“Would you be here if she wasn’t pregnant?” Nicole asks.

“Yes,” I say, without hesitating. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been today. But I wasn’t going to let her go, even before I knew.” I take a deep breath, like I’m about to jump into deep water. “I love her.”

Holy fuck, I said it out loud.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

She puts a hand to her mouth, smiling behind her fingers. “Holy shit. This is like, I don’t even know. You love her?”

It’s such a relief to be able to just say it. “I fucking love the shit out of her.”

Nicole laughs. “Wow, okay. I like you way more than I did five minutes ago. Here’s the thing. She doesn’t want you to do the right thing, or swoop in and take care of her. Not right now, anyway. She’s scared because she doesn’t want to hold you back. She doesn’t want to be an obligation. And she’s convinced herself that even if you’re here now, it’s only because you feel like you have to be. Not because you want to be. Not because you want
her
. And it won’t be long before you leave.”

“But I do want her,” I say. “I’ve never wanted anything like this before. My life is shit without her.”

“Then you need to tell her,” she says. “Whatever moment you’re trying to create, it isn’t about you. It’s about
her
. You need to show her in a way that’s meaningful to Melissa.”

“How do I do that?” I ask.

“Just, be you,” Nicole says with a shrug. “She loves you too, whether she wants to admit it or not. That’s why she’s so afraid to let you back in. She doesn’t want you to solve her problems. She needs to know you love her, for
her
, and you want to be with her. She needs to know how you feel.”

A calmness settles over me. I sit back in my seat, thinking about the details. I know exactly what to do. I’ll have to go back to Seattle first, but it will be worth it.

“Thank you, Nicole,” I say, getting up from my seat.

“Wait, where are you going?” she asks.

“I’ll be back,” I say. “Keep an eye on her while I’m gone, okay?”

I leave Nicole gaping at me, and go outside to call my driver.

I’m pretty sure Nicole is avoiding me.

Ever since Jackson showed up at the cafe, she’s been acting weird. I have dinner at her place, with Ryan, Cody, and Hunter, and she barely speaks to me. I know it’s because she talked to Jackson. I’ve seen no sign of him since. He probably told her he was out, that this whole thing was too much hassle, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell me.

After that, she takes forever to answer my texts. When I suggest hanging out the next day, she has some excuse about doing wedding stuff. It might be legit—I’m probably being overly sensitive. But it seems odd. As soon as I told her I was pregnant, she went into full-on circle-the-wagons mode. Now she’s too busy to hang out?

I curl up on my couch, a blanket over my legs, and try to pay attention to the book I’m reading. I’ve read the same page at least four times, and I still can’t remember what happened. I give up, tossing the book to the side, and grab the remote. I flip on the TV and fire up Netflix. My go-to is usually
Firefly
, but I don’t think I can watch it again. All I can think about is that first night in San Diego, when Jackson was so sweet. He made me tea. I glance at my steaming mug, the little string from the tea bag hanging off the side. Fuck it, I can drink tea and not think about him. I can still watch a show.

I doze off about halfway through the first episode, the familiar lines running through my mind. A knock at the door startles me. My curtains are closed, so I can’t see who’s outside. It’s probably Nicole. I get up, pushing the blanket aside, hoping she brought takeout. I’m starving.

My appetite vanishes as soon as I open the door. It’s Jackson.

“Hi,” he says. His eyes sparkle in the sun. “Will you come for a drive with me?”

I glance down at my clothes. I’m wearing a pair of black leggings and a long t-shirt, an even longer tank layered beneath it. I touch my hair—I’m pretty sure I brushed it earlier.

“Um, I guess so,” I say.

He smiles and steps aside. I grab my purse from the little table next to the door, slip on a pair of sandals, and follow him out to his car.

He has the Bugatti, no driver in sight. It’s still the most comfortable car I’ve ever been in, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m too anxious. Why is he here?

He pulls out onto my street and turns the corner, not saying a word. It’s fucking weird. He’s never this quiet. We drive south, down toward the edge of town. I keep expecting him to start talking, to fill the silence. He seems oddly relaxed. I’m the one who can’t stop fidgeting, bouncing my leg up and down.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer.

We pull down a beach approach and he moves the car off to the side.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

He just smiles at me and gets out of the car.

He waits at the front of the car, his hands in his pockets, his face maddeningly serene. What the hell is going on with him? When I get out, he turns and walks down the beach. I follow. What else am I supposed to do?

The sun shines; a few puffy white clouds amble across the sky. The waves crash along the beach, white foam bubbling. Jackson stops where the deep dry sand turns hard-packed and wet. I step up beside him, my patience at his silence fading fast.

“Jackson, what are we doing out here?”

He looks at me, and my heart nearly bursts. There’s no sign of the cocky show-off. No confident smirk of a man used to getting everything he wants. His eyes are intense, his expression utterly serious.

“We’re out here because I want to talk to you alone,” he says.

There’s no one else in sight. No cars. No one out for a stroll. Not even any footprints in the sand.

He pulls out his phone and holds it up. I open my mouth, the words
Don’t you dare take my picture right now
on my lips. But before I can speak, he hurls it out into the water.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, aghast.

“No pictures, no tweets,” he says. “No audience.”

My heart beats faster and a tingle of nervousness runs through my belly. Or is that a pregnancy thing?

“Melissa.”

The way he says my name. So forlorn. So passionate.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re fierce and strong, but gentle and soft. You’re fearless, not afraid to tell me what you want. I knew, sitting next to you in that bar, there was something different about you. That’s why I wanted you. I used to be surrounded by all kinds of women, but none of them meant anything. I didn’t think anyone ever would. Until I met you.”

I swallow hard, hugging my arms around myself.

“You’re right that we come from different worlds,” he continues. “I don’t know what it’s like to grow up here, or have a father who gives a shit. You don’t know how to deal with the media, and assholes who think they’re entitled to a view of your private life. But, I just…” He pauses, looking away. “That stuff doesn’t matter to me. No, that’s not true. It
does
matter. But not enough to keep me away from you. When I asked you to go away with me, I thought I was going to sweep into your life and blow you away. But the truth is, the opposite happened. You blew me away. You changed me. Or maybe it wasn’t a change—maybe you found something that was already there, waiting for the right person to bring it out.”

He pauses again, but I can’t speak.

“This has been a whirlwind, I know,” he says. “And we’re both in a place we didn’t expect to be. But I’m not even kidding when I tell you this—I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

My mouth drops open. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, stepping closer. “We’re going to have a baby together, Melissa. That’s all kinds of crazy—but fuck, it’s wonderful.”

Tears burn my eyes. He can’t be serious.

“You’re afraid I’m going to get bored, or stifled by you,” he says. “You know what was stifling me? Believing that all that bullshit I was doing made me happy. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. I don’t want anything else. I love you, Melissa. I fucking love you so much I can barely breathe.”

I put a hand over my mouth. I should say something, but I can’t get a word out.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. Despite myself, I gasp. Confusion swirls through me. The box is faded, the edges worn. This isn’t a box from a luxury jewelry store. I can barely make out the logo on the top.

Jackson Bennett wouldn’t propose without a fancy ring. That isn’t his style. He’d find the biggest, gaudiest diamond imaginable. Wouldn’t he?

“Open it,” he says.

My hands tremble as I take the lid off the box. Inside is a softer box, its velvety surface in better condition. Baffled, I slip it out of the cardboard and open the lid.

I almost drop it. Inside is a slim gold ring with a tiny diamond in a simple setting.

My mother’s wedding ring.

Tears run down my face. How did he get this this? How did he even know it existed?

I swallow and take a shaky breath. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a funny story, actually,” he says. “After I last saw you, I left town and went back to Seattle, intending to buy you the biggest fucking ring I could find. That would show you, right? Except, when I got there, I looked around and none of them were you. It wouldn’t have mattered how much money I dropped on one of those stupid things. I realized that isn’t what you want from me. This is something my money can’t buy. So, I spoke to your father.”

“My dad?”

Jackson nods. “Yesterday. I went to him in person. I asked if he might still have your mother’s ring, and if he’d be willing to let me propose to you with it.”

“I can’t believe you talked to my dad,” I say.

“You told me he was old-school,” he says. “I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me without his permission.”

Oh my god, is this really happening?

“He gave you my mother’s ring?”

“Yes,” Jackson says, his voice so soft. “He probably won’t admit it now, but he cried a little.”

A sob shakes my shoulders. My dad cried? I saw my dad cry once in my entire life, long ago, when I was a little girl. The pain I saw in that moment took root in my soul and never truly left.

“Melissa, I’m standing before you, just a man. Not a suit or a bank account. Not a solution to your problems. Just a man who loves you with everything he is. I don’t know how much that’s worth. But you’re worth everything to me.”

He moves in close and lifts my hands. The box is still sitting in my palm.

No glitz. No flash. No waving money in my face.

“Until I met you, I didn’t know I was capable of loving anyone,” he says, his voice quiet. “But I love you. And if you let me, I’ll love you forever. Melissa, will you marry me?”

This. This moment. This was what I wanted. What I didn’t dare to dream, because it didn’t seem possible. Jackson, the facade stripped away. No hiding behind his money or his charm. Just him, real and open.

And he wants me.

His brow creases with worry.

Yeah, I’ll let him sweat it for a few more seconds.

I hold his eyes and lift my left hand.

With a gentle touch, Jackson takes the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger.