Part 4 (2/2)

”You can't push me away because of this investigation. Not unless you want me to slap you again.”

I'm rewarded with a wry smile. ”I get that,” he says. ”But I'm not just talking about the murder. It's Ronnie, too. I don't like you seeing me flounder.”

”Flounder?” I think about how good he is with herso naturally comfortable in a way I can't even fathomand am genuinely baffled.

”What the h.e.l.l do I know about being a father? G.o.d knows mine was no role model.”

”You're amazing with her,” I say, and though I'm being a hundred percent honest, I do understand what he means. Children have never been on my radar for exactly that reasonmy parents screwed me up so much that I'm not sure I have a decent parenting bone in me.

”She's the one who's amazing,” he says. ”But that's not even what I mean. It's like every decision is a test, and the wrong answer could mess up her life. Do I step in as her dad? Do I continue as an uncle? Do I leave her with Betty? There's an infinite number of choices at every juncture and then a whole new set of choices after that. And there's no way of knowing if I'm following the right path.”

”You think the fact that you're struggling means you'll be a bad father? It's just the opposite, Jackson. Don't you see? It matters so much to youh.e.l.l, it's consuming youand every step you're taking is with her best interest in mind. That's the definition of a good father, Jackson. You and I know that better than anyone.” I offer him a small smile and a gentle kiss on his cheek. ”It's pretty s.e.xy, actually.”

He doesn't laugh, but the tension in his face relaxes a bit.

”You're doing the right thing for Ronnie,” I insist. ”The best thing. You're focusing on Ronnie because you want her life to be better. Because you love her. Leaving her with Betty isn't a mistake. It's a choice, and it's the right one.”

”Maybe. But that doesn't mean I haven't made other mistakes. And I'm afraid that I'm going to have to pay for them sooner rather than later. I'm afraid Ronnie's going to pay, too. And Syl,” he says, sliding his fingers through my hair to cup the back of my head as he looks deep into my eyes, ”I'm afraid that you're going to pay as well. I'm afraid you already are.”

”No.” I say the word fiercely, as if I can erase the shadows from his eyes simply by the force of my will. ”Don't go there, Jackson. Don't you dare slide off into melancholy with me. Ronnie is better off having you in her life, and I am, too. I love you, and there is no price I wouldn't pay to be with you.”

He looks at me then, as if he is absorbing my words. As if he's weighing the truth of them. He looks at me for so long, in fact, that I'm almost compelled to speak, but then he does that first.

”Being with you in Santa Fe . . .” He trails off.

”What?”

I see something like pain flicker across his face. ”I know I was an a.s.s. It was because of Ronnie. Well, because of all of it. But I think it was mostly her.”

”Oh.” An icy chill snakes up my back, and I tense, certain I know where this is going. I'm not her mom. I haven't the faintest idea how to be a mom. And right now Jackson needs to focus on two things: getting cleared and being a father. Which means he needs to not focus on me.

”It's just that I caught myself thinking that it would be gooda comfort, I meanif I knew that Ronnie would be safe on the outside with you if the worst happened.”

I frown, no longer sure where he's heading. ”And that turned you into an a.s.s?”

The corner of his mouth actually curves up. ”Have you not been paying attention? You found out about five minutes ago that I have a child. A child you've spent barely any time with. And yet in my mind I already had you filling the gap in her life when I end up behind bars. Auntie Syl, right there. Helping to take care of her. Protecting her. I mean, h.e.l.l, sweetheart, I practically had you in the role of Mommy.”

My chest tightens, emotion flooding me. He wasn't pulling away from me because he didn't want me. Just the opposite.

”It's selfish of me, and unrealistic, and”

I can't help myself. I burst into tears.

”Oh, Christ, Syl. Oh, s.h.i.+t.” Jackson wanted to kick himself. What the h.e.l.l had he been thinking?

That was easy. He was thinking that he wanted her. Forever. For always. He wanted her. And he had to go and run off at the mouth without thinking about what she wanted.

”I'm sorry,” he rushed to say. ”I shouldn't have told you. s.h.i.+t, I shouldn't have said anything. That's why she's with Betty now, because of course I don't really expect you to”

”You're such a fool.”

Her voice was thick with tears, and for a moment, Jackson was certain he must have misunderstood.

”Do you have any idea what that means to me? That you have that much faith in me? That you'd trust me with the most precious thing in your life?”

He stared at her, a little bit sh.e.l.l-shocked. Had he heard her right? Did she understand what she was saying?

”I haven't got a clue how to play Mommy,” she continued. ”But I love you, Jacksonthose aren't just words, and they sure as h.e.l.l aren't temporary.” She brushed her hand over his cheek. ”Whatever you need, remember? And those aren't just words, either. For better or worse, we're getting through this. And we're doing it together.”

He didn't answer. Not yet. All he wanted to do was look at her. To breathe her in and let her words fill his head. Because they were d.a.m.n good words.

For better or worse . . .

Someday, he thought. Someday she'd say those words to him again and he'd put a ring on her finger.

But first, they had to survive everything that was yet to come.

five.

Our destinationthe office of Bender, Twain & McGuiretakes up three floors in 2049 Century Park East, one of the two iconic triangular shaped towers that comprise the Century Plaza Towers in Century City. They rise up ahead of us, s.h.i.+ning against the night sky, as Jackson maneuvers his beloved black Porsche down Santa Monica Boulevard, cutting a straight path from my condo to our destination.

I've always loved these towersthe sleek, clean lines and the soft gleam of the aluminum facade. The towers truly s.h.i.+ne when they are set against the backdrop of the blue California sky. But even after dark, they stand like monuments, reflecting the power and prestige of the area and the people who live and work here.

”He's on my regret list,” Jackson says, pointing to the towers.

”He? You mean Yamasaki?”

Jackson grins. ”I should have known you'd be familiar with him. Along with Frank Lloyd Wright, Minoru Yamasaki is one of the people I always invite to dinner when I play that game.”

”Who you'd have at your table, either living or dead?”

”Exactly. Wright pa.s.sed away before I was born, and I think I would have been about four when Yamasaki died. I was building things with my Legos back then, but even if I had clued in to my desire to be an architect, I don't think he would have taken my call.”

I can't help my smile. ”Probably not. He's on my list, too,” I admit. ”There's such an elegant majesty to his buildings, you know?” Minoru Yamasaki may have been the original architect for the towers in Century City, but he's most well-known for the original World Trade Center.

We stop at a light, and Jackson turns to me. ”I haven't taken you on an architectural tour of Los Angeles yet. We should do that soon. Maybe next weekend.”

”Don't,” I snap, my voice harsher than I'd intended. ”Don't try to keep my mind off what's going on around us. Don't try to pretend that everything is fine. Like it or not, this is reality now.”

”Syl . . .” The light changes, but he doesn't move forward.

”No, I mean it,” I say, as a car behind us honks. I turn around and glare at the idiot in the convertiblesome overly made-up blonde who looks like she doesn't have a care in the world, then I turn back to Jackson, even more irritated than I was before. ”Go,” I say, but he's already moving.

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