How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,90

sweetie. The bank statements have pictures of the checks.”

“Fuck,” Callie said. “That was not for you to look at, Jackson.”

“Okay. Sorry. I just noticed it and started flipping through it. She’s got a decent business going. She just needs to get organized.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I didn’t ask for a hero.”

“I’m not trying to be a fucking hero here,” I said. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Which I didn’t ask you to do.”

“Callie…”

She stepped back. “I didn’t grow up like you, Jackson. Everything perfect and handed to me. I have my ways of living. Sorry if they’re different from yours. I know how to take care of myself and my mother.”

“Don’t assume anything about me,” I said. “You don’t know how I grew up.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Callie said. “What would you be doing right now if your father was alive? Huh? Would you even be working? My guess is you’d probably be traveling the world on his dime, fucking hundreds of women, without a care in the world.”

“Wow,” I said. “You really just went there.”

“You went there first,” she said and pointed to the folders.

“I could see it in your face how much it bothers you,” I said. “When you’re near your mother. You treat her like an embarrassment. Only because you’re angry and don’t know what to do about it. I was just helping. I respect it. I appreciate you, Callie. I wanted you to see that. I guess I missed the mark this time.”

“Do me a favor, Jackson,” Callie said. “If you’re looking for a target, keep it between my legs. That’s all I need from you, okay?”

“Noted,” I said. “I’ll just show myself out. Unless you want me to make you come again.”

“I’m suddenly not in the mood,” Callie said.

She sipped her coffee.

Her bitch face was only a front.

She wanted to cry.

But you know what?

I wasn’t going to stick around and argue with her.

I left her apartment and went back home to mine.

I slammed my door and punched it.

“Fuck,” I growled.

I went too far.

We went too far.

I was fucking in love with her.

Chapter Forty

Callie

I wore my lucky dress and twirled in front of the bathroom mirror a few times. For some reason I felt different. My eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me, showing maybe a hint at another curve or two. That pissed me off. That meant I had been getting too close and comfortable with Jackson. Since we weren’t the type to go out and parade our fake marriage around town, all we had been doing was eating, drinking, and fucking.

I figured the extra sex would have easily burned off the calories.

Jackson knew how to cook a good meal. Big and filling. Generally healthy. I was just used to lounging around with him, probably eating second and thirds like I normally wouldn’t do. Or maybe it was the midnight snacks after our hot sex. Eating snacks like we were cuddled up in a college dorm, wanting to stay up all night and forget about the world.

It bothered me to see those subtle hints at new curves in the mirror, so I changed.

My chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with my breasts. It was inside my chest that felt heavy. Very heavy.

I didn’t have much time to process the feeling because someone was knocking at the door. I was in my bra and panties and had no choice but to grab a robe and rush through the apartment.

The constant knocking was driving me insane.

I ripped open the door and saw Jackson standing there.

I hadn’t seen him since yesterday.

After he stormed out of the apartment, I called Misha and we met up and spent a few hours together going over ideas for a work project. Then I went to work-out for way too long. I ended up feeling dizzy and came home to shower and relax. Mom called and she sensed my voice sounding weak so she came over with Sunny, Lake, and Joni and brought me some kind of lentil soup and lit a few candles to help me relax. I told them I was stressed about work, but knowing them, they knew the truth, that something had happened between Jackson and I.

They didn’t say anything, which I did appreciate.

Back to reality, I looked up at Jackson.

He extended his left hand. “Coffee.”

“Thank you,” I said.

My voice was cold.

“You’re not ready yet?” he asked.

“Unless it’s Pajama Day at work, no.”

“I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jackson,” I said. “I’m fine. I