Crushed (Breaking the Rules Series Book 5) (6 page)

“Don’t forget your ‘special appointment’ with Andi at eleven,” Dena says and even does the air quotes.

I roll my eyes at her. Day two and she still fucking gets on my nerves. Jordan laughed at me earlier this morning when I told him to fire her. Asshole.

“I didn’t forget. Now, go away.”

She ignores me as she waltzes into my office and plops down on one of my chairs. I stare at her with wide eyes. What is it about her that makes her think she can do this shit?

“What’s so special about your appointment that you couldn’t just say what it was?”

Nosy bitch.
“None of your goddamned business. Get out of my office.”

She ignores me. Again. “So I was playing around last night with backgrounds that I think would be cool on your site. You should pull it up and let me show you.”

I groan in annoyance. “Then will you leave me the hell alone?”

“Scout’s honor,” she says seriously as she holds up the two- fingered gesture.

Somehow, I don’t believe her.

Leaning back in my chair, I roll away from my desk. She takes that as her cue and stands before bouncing over. The site is open—it always is—and she quickly takes my mouse.

“Don’t fuck it up,” I grumble

She laughs and flips me off. “It’s already fucked up. I’m going to make it legit.”

I don’t humor her with a response. Instead, I watch in awe as she flies through the HTML code as if it’s the easiest thing ever. Minutes later, she pulls up a preview of a newer background. It’s badass.

“It’s okay,” I lie. Dammit, she’s more than just a fucking pest—she has web page design game.

“Liar. You love it. Tell momma’s boy you’re going to revamp the site. He should spend less time playing Minecraft with little kids and take some web design classes.”

Such a smug bitch.
“How do you know he’s a momma’s boy?” I ask incredulously.

She turns to me with a cocked eyebrow. “Aren’t all grown men who are still obsessed with Harry Potter momma’s boys?”

This time, it’s my turn to flip her off. “Fuck off, Dena.”

She playfully swats at me and giggles.

“New assistant? Seems like you two get along nicely,” Andi sniffles with tears in her eyes as she stands in my doorway.

I can imagine that the scene at hand looks bad. “Yes, and she needs to get back to work. Baby, this is Dena. Dena, this is my wife, Andi.
We’re expecting.
”

Dena at least has the decency to appear uncomfortable as well. She nervously stands and strides out from behind my desk to shake hands with my woman. Andi eyes her like she’s a viper.

Fuck.

When Andi doesn’t raise her hand to return Dena’s handshake, Dena slowly drops it to her side.

“My doctor said I should avoid people. I wouldn’t want to get ill.”

The doctor did not tell her to avoid people. Shit, she’s fucking jealous of Dena.

Dena nods and throws me an apologetic glance. Life is fun for people like her. For people like Andi and me? Life is not fun. Life is hard.

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Jackson, I’ll work more on the Potter file for you while you’re gone and get back with you,” Dena mumbles before she rushes away from the thick tension in my office.

Andi pushes the door closed and glares at me.

“I thought you were going to call me when you got here and I’d come down,” I question as I stand and stride over to her.

Her lip curls up in disgust. I feel like I did something wrong—I didn’t do anything wrong!

“I can see why you didn’t want me to come up. You were too busy having a fucking amazing time with a tall, beautiful brunette,” she snips.

When I try to suffocate her with my closeness, she backs away until her butt hits the door.
No more running, Andi.

“The only tall, beautiful woman I see—
that I ever see
—is blond and standing right in front of me.”

Her face loses some of its fury, and a smile tugs at her lips. “You still think I’m beautiful? Even now? When I’m a hot mess?”

I grin down at her. Sliding my hands into her hair, I kiss her hard enough for her to know she’ll always be my woman.

“You’re my hot mess.”

Here it comes. Jackson’s favorite part. On Dr. Sweeney’s couch, I glance over at my husband. He winces, knowing what’s coming.

“I have homework for both of you,” Dr. Sweeney says in his calm tone.

Jackson groans just like he does every time. Then I giggle, which earns me raised eyebrows of surprise from Dr. Sweeney and a smile so hopeful, so happy, on Jackson that I’m tempted to do it again just to keep that expression on his face.

“I want you, Jackson, to show your love to Andi in other ways besides sex until you both speak with Dr. Ellis and confirm the risks Andi spoke of. You’re a smart man and you love her dearly. I know you’ll find other ways to show her.”

Jackson nods at him. His homework seems easy.

“And you, Andi. I want you to open your mind and your heart. It won’t hurt to go to the meeting with Jill. You both can always decide whether or not to proceed after that initial meeting. Just promise me you won’t go in with your mind set. This is important to Jackson, just like your pregnancy is important to you. You both love each other, and I know you two can figure this out.”

This time, I nod at him. My homework is much harder.

When Jackson told me that he had his mother set up the meeting without talking to me first, I was pissed. The very idea that he’s ready to have a backup plan for if this pregnancy fails hurts. Adoption has always seemed like a last resort for me. And right now, I feel like we aren’t there yet.

Jackson’s phone rings as we say our goodbyes. As he answers, he clutches my hand.

“Hey, Mom. Now? Uh, shit. Let me see what Andi says.”

I turn and look at him in question. “The Grimes family would like to meet with us today if we can.”

My lighter mood from having seen Dr. Sweeney is stolen from me as I feel sucker-punched in the belly.

“Uh-uh,” I stammer. But when I once again see that hopeful glint in Jackson’s eyes, I cave. What will one meeting hurt?

With a simple nod, I agree to something that scares the shit out of me.

“Over there.” Jackson points to a table in the coffee shop as he guides me by the hand.

A blond woman probably in her early forties, clearly waiting for someone, stands upon seeing us. “Mr. and Mrs. Compton?”

Jackson nods and extends a hand. “You must be Mrs. Grimes. Please, call me Jackson. This is my wife, Andi.”

I quickly shake her hand, hoping she doesn’t notice how clammy my palm is. So this is the grandma who is eagerly waiting to getting rid of her grandchild?

“Nice to meet you both. Call me Laura. My husband, Richard, is at work and my daughter, Jill, went to the restroom. Please, have a seat. I can get you a coffee or a tea if you’d like.”

The mere mention of coffee makes me want to scream.

“I’ll have water,” I reply.

“Andi, please sit. I’ll get us something.” Jackson, who seems just as nervous, strides away without an answer.

I gulp down my nerves and sit down across from Laura. She seems nice enough, looking every bit the normal American mom. I don’t understand how she can be so quick to get rid of her grandchild. Teen moms make it work all the time with the help of their mothers.

“So, Trish tells me you’re expecting?” she asks after we sit down at a bistro table big enough for four. Her voice is hesitant—like she’s uncertain about whether or not her question is prying.

And even though I shouldn’t feel that way, I do feel pried upon.

“I’m eighteen weeks. We’ve had several miscarriages. This pregnancy has thus far been the most successful.”

She smiles broadly at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

My lips don’t move because I can’t smile back. There’s nothing I want more than to freaking get this over with already. I stroke my belly, which is just swollen enough that I know I’m pregnant whereas not many others can tell right off. As we sit here preparing to discuss them not wanting their baby and their desire to give it to us, I feel angry. When so many of us struggle, others are ready to give them away to the highest bidder.

“Mom, did you get me an iced coffee?” a very young voice asks as she approaches our table from behind me.

Laura smiles when she looks up and pushes a frosty drink toward an empty chair beside her. “Yes, baby. It’s right here.”

Baby?

When I turn my head, I gasp. The girl is so young. Jackson never told me how old she was, but she most certainly is a baby herself. Her wispy, blond hair is pulled into a long braid down her back, which makes her look even younger.

A child.

“Jilly, this is Andi. Andi is expecting as well.” Laura’s voice is tight and wobbly.

Jilly? A
child
’s pet name.

Jill looks in my direction and raises an eyebrow. “If you already are going to have a baby, why do you want mine?”

Good question. I’ll let Jackson answer that pointed one.

“Babe, I got you a low-fat bagel with turkey and cheese with a side of hummus and carrot sticks,” he babbles as he sets a plate and ice water down in front of me.

My sweet Jackson.

I pick the bagel sandwich up and send him a look of gratitude, which is received with a smile that could warm any heart.