is on his phone, in his day-old tux, still looking sexy as hell, pacing the room.
Maybe it won't be so bad being his prostitute.
What the hell am I saying?
At least he's the best kisser on the planet.
These thoughts aren't helping anything.
He sees me and hangs up. I turn away from him.
"Maribel, Abby's awake and wants to see you."
She jumps up. "Can we finish later?"
Caroline smiles and rises. She's still in her green dress from the night before. "Sure." She hugs me. It's warm and motherly. I haven't felt anything like it since before my mom died, and it catches me off guard. I return her hug. She puts her hands on my shoulders. "How are you holding up?"
It's a loaded question. I see in her eyes she understands everything I'm going through. I've seen it with other mothers I've gotten to know whose children have cancer. I don't give her my standard answer of "okay." Something tells me not to lie to her. "I feel like I'm a window that's had a baseball thrown through it. But I'm also one ball away before the glass shatters into millions of pieces."
Her sympathetic smile doesn't feel like some I've received. It's not full of pity. It's a level of compassion and knowledge that others don't have. They can't. They've not been in my shoes, but she has.
"I'll tell you a secret," she says.
"Please. Enlighten me." I attempt a smile.
"When the baseballs come flying, and the shards fly everywhere, it's okay to let others sweep them up." She leans closer. "Even if sometimes they're idiots and don't make the best decisions."
Oh God. Does she know what I agreed to do?
My face burns in embarrassment.
She hugs me again. "I'm going to go home for a few hours. I'll be back later. Colton will give you my number. You call me if you need anything. Even if it's just to talk."
"Thank you."
She squeezes my hand, pats Colton on the shoulder, then mumbles something in his ear I can't hear. He takes a deep breath and comes over to me.
"Please tell me your mom doesn't know about—"
"She doesn't."
"But she said—"
"I told her I was the world's biggest idiot, did something incredibly stupid, and wasn't sure how you would ever forgive me. I didn't go into details, and she didn't pry."
I release a big breath. "Good. I really like your mom."
"She feels the same about you."
We stare in uncomfortable silence. He steps closer. "I wish I had known about Abby and what you were going through."
"Not something you tell someone when you're signing a contract to be a 'beck-and-call stripper,'" I sarcastically say.
His face hardens and turns red. "I can't tell you how much I hate myself for what I did."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I went to the club. I had a notion about what happened there. I agreed to your terms. I'm not innocent in all this, and honestly, if I had to do it again, I would. I didn't have any other options."
"I'm not judging you, Jasmine. I'm disappointed in myself. There's a reason I don't engage in the club activities. I saw you and lost my head. I'm sorry."
I try to calm my flutters down. No matter our history, I can't deny I like the fact he wanted me.
"We both made choices," I claim, giving him a pass.
We stare at each other.
I take a nervous breath. "Cee Cee told me what you did. I need to thank you. How do you want me to repay you?"
Shock registers on his face. His voice sounds insulted. "There's no repayment."
"It's a lot of money."
"Don't worry about it."
"I am. It's more than anything we discussed, and—"
"Jesus, Jasmine," he growls.
I jerk my head back.
He steps forward and firmly holds my cheeks. His blue eyes blaze into mine. His delicious scent overpowers me. "Do you not understand I don't care about the money?"
My insides quiver.
I force myself to ask, "Then what do you care about?"
"You. I care about you and making sure Abby gets whatever she needs. And I care about figuring out a way for you to forgive me and learn to trust me, since I didn't treat you how I should have."
"There isn't anything to forgive. I already told you there were two of us who made choices."
"Yes, there is. And this is all on me, Jasmine. Not you," he firmly states.
I glance at his lips. It's not intentional, but they're so close. I don't want to hate him or hold a grudge. He's