Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,70

worth,” Libby says, jolting me out of my daymare, “if I were you, I’d think that a proposal was much more likely than a breakup. But that’s me and my unbiased, clear vision speaking.”

I want her to be right. So much. So much that it boosts my hopes despite the fact that I know raising them will only hurt when the truth comes out.

And I’m right.

“Boone!” Rosie shouts his name as she runs down the hallway. “Boone!”

I poke my head around the corner. “I’m here, Rosie.”

She screeches to a halt. “Where’s Boone?”

“He’s at work.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still. He’ll be home soon.”

“Okay.” She walks to me and takes my hand. “Let’s play school.”

I look down at her. “Go sit at the table, and I’ll be there in a second.” I turn my attention back to the phone. “I gotta go, Lib.”

“Call me later. And breathe. This is going to be fine. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye, Jax.”

“Bye, Libby.”

I feel so bad. I should be the one comforting Libby. After all, I know what it’s like to be cheated on and rejected, but all I can focus on is my life. My future. Well, Rosie’s and my future. Libby deserves so much more from me.

And this is why it’s so absurd that Ted cheated on her. She’s sunshine and roses, one of the best people I know, and he cheated on her. It doesn’t make sense. I hope she does steamroll him, whatever that means.

But what else doesn’t make sense is Boone and me. There is no way that Boone is thinking of proposing marriage. No. Way. I’m … me. And now, well, I’m a package deal.

But how on earth do I make plans to move out and start fresh somewhere when I don’t have a job and need stability for Rosie? Deep breath, Jaxi.

You’ll never amount to anything, Jacqueline. Everything you touch ends in disaster. You infect everyone with your darkness.

No. This is not the time to hear Mom’s voice. I’m determined to do this right.

I head into the kitchen and pull out a workbook of letters and a pencil. Siggy not only supplied toys and games for Rosie but she also gave her these pre-Kindergarten workbooks that she loves. I’m so grateful for Siggy because I would’ve been out of my depths more than I could’ve predicted.

When I sit with Rosie, her eyes are full of excitement. She takes the pencil from my hand, making me so very thankful. She’s happy.

I stroke a lock of hair out of her eyes and try to take a second before I switch gears.

Her widow’s peak is the same as mine, as are her eyebrows and how gently they arch over her hazel eyes. I wonder if Nettie ever thought about me when she looked at her.

“What do I do first?” Rosie asks, opening the book.

“First, let’s trace the letter a. Can you do that?” I ask.

She bites down, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, and gets to work.

“This is an a,” she says, moving the pencil around the broken lines forming the letter. “Do I have an a in my name?”

“You don’t,” I tell her. “Your name is Penelope Rose Woods.”

A warmth pours over me as I think about Nettie naming Rosie’s first name is Penelope.

“Do you have an a?” Rosie asks.

“In Jacqueline.” I tap her on the nose, making her giggle. “My name is Jacqueline Penelope Thorpe.”

“Penelope like me!”

I grin. “Just like you.”

“And what about Boone?”

“He has an a in his last name,” I say because I don’t know his middle name.

“But what’s name? What’s his whole name?”

“Boone Mason. I’m not sure what his middle name is.”

“Oh.” She sticks her tongue out as she moves to the line of lowercase letters. “Why isn’t his name the same as your name?”

“Because we aren’t married.”

I make a face. It’s as though the universe is screwing with me.

“But why don’t me and you have the same last name?” she asks.

“Because we have different daddies.”

“Oh.”

I sit back in my chair and give up. I let the ball of anxiety add to itself.

What day will she realize that she will never know another Woods? Will she have that sense of not belonging anywhere like I did?

Is it my fault if she does?

That idea was planted into my head as a little girl, and it affected me more than I ever knew.

I craved wanting to belong. I was so envious of other people who could trace back their family history for generations and could walk into a basketball game