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Before I came along, he’d be the one holding Jane, and the fact that he’s not upset that I’ve taken over—it means we’re making good strides.
In the darkened corner of the pub, Luna Hale is dirty-dancing with Donnelly. The kind of sloppy dancing you’d see at closing times from trashed guys and girls. But her and him—they’re completely sober.
“You could’ve made that a little happier, Jack,” Farrow teases. “Yeah.” Akara smiles. “Way to go, Jack.” “What were you thinkin’, Jack,” Donnelly pipes in. “Dammit, Jack,” Quinn sighs. “Yeah, fuck you, Highland,” Oscar cuts in playfully. Jack is smiling a hundred-watt smile. “I’ll take those as compliments, and honestly, this is one of the best seasons we’ve ever produced. And the longest. The studio gave us twice as many episodes.”
“Women are better than men. Better fighters, better lovers—and the fact that you come from where I do and can say and believe shit that demeans women makes me sick.”
Aunt Daisy has taught me to use my voice, even if the world says stay quiet. Aunt Lily has taught me fierce courage, even on days when you feel lesser than. And Rose Calloway Cobalt, my mom—she’s taught me how to walk into a room full of men and never back down.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved,”
“Phone numbers aren’t that difficult to memorize, especially ones that matter.” I touch my smile with my fingertips. Thatcher matters to him.
“Because I love you completely, Jane, and I want and need you during the worst and best moments of my life.”
“I never want to see him like that again,” Farrow tells me, his voice low. My chest tightens. “That bad?” “Man, you have no idea.” His brown eyes almost glass, carrying the hours where he watched Maximoff fear the death of his best friend.
Thatcher stares at me like the clouds have parted and I’ve descended from the sky. I blush under his heated stare. “What?” “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever been with,” he says like a fact. Point-blank, as he sometimes adds.
“Jane.” His eyes redden. “I love you. I’m here for these moments. Every fucking one. We’re going through fear, shame, guilt, back to fear together. A hundred, million times if we need to.”
While Maximoff jogs past, Farrow gives him a blatant once-over, and we all watch Maximoff trip on a rug. Everyone laughs, and my lip begins to lift. “Jesus Christ,” Maximoff curses. “You didn’t see that.” “I definitely did,” Farrow teases.
I’d say how attraction is just my cock wanting pussy. It’s my hands wanting her body. It’s my ears wanting her voice and to be drowned out by her. It’s lust. Love is more. It’s the days I wake up, feeling a need, an urgency to protect her. Not just her body but her spirit—her entire soul. It’s the days I imagine losing her, and I’m met with a bottomless empty, nothing there but hollow numbness.
He waves a hand at me. “There’s a lot of self-loathing coming from this corner.”
When we look over at Jane and Maximoff, we notice they’re already watching us, their expressions thunderstruck and curious: mouths gaping, eyes cinched, question marks dangling over their heads. It’s fucking comical.
I suppress a smile and adjust my earpiece. Not interfering, but man, I feel like a proud Mother Goose who sent her little chickadee out into the world.
That’s the thing about the Cobalt Empire; they don’t show you their cards until the very end.
“I don’t need a career to be a smart woman.” I go on. “I don’t need a job to be talented. I am both smart and possess talent, and the love that I give is just as important as the fashion empire my mom built. I am enough just as I am.”
“And Thatcher and I will absolutely let you two walk in on us to even the playing field.” “Jane,” Thatcher says strongly on the other side of the door. He’s not thrilled at that idea.
“To have a tea party with a bodyguard, who apparently decided to play Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy with my sister.”
His words ring my head. It’s one of our family’s favorite Shakespeare quotes, and in French, it’s become one of our many mottos. Boldness be my friend.
“People do stupid things when they’re in love,” Charlie says, but it’s not in disdain. It’s warm, heartfelt and he looks at me like he’s acknowledging that I am stupid-in-love with his sister. And fuck it, that’s the best outcome there is.
If something happens to one of them, the world will mourn. So many people idolize these famous families. They represent something bigger than themselves. They are hope and inspiration and light in dark times, and inadvertently, by protecting them, we’re protecting that essence too.
“Sul and I have never flirted.” They’ve flirted. Hell, I’ve flirted with the girl. She’s funny, competitive, a fucking smokeshow, and also very, very virginal but I wouldn’t call her naïve.
Family constantly makes me feel like the wealthiest man in the world. There’s not a day I’d ever take them for granted.
“No boy’s allowed!” my mom screams from the treehouse window. “Go away, Loren!” Uncle Loren glares up at her from the foot of the tree. “Fine, Cruella, I was just asking if you needed more blankets. Freeze your titanium pussy off for all I care!” “Go fuck a cactus!”
Truth: 9 times out of 10, Uncle Loren will find a way to either pull Lily away or become a part of the PJ party. He might also be the biggest gossip queen of us all, so I don’t even mind the addition.
“I need you. I need you like the air I breathe, and I want you like ground beneath my feet. I’m not afraid—I’m not afraid, not even a little. You are the man who has respected all of who I am and protected every little piece of me.”
“Mr. Moretti, will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
I don’t understand what he’s doing until he drops down to one knee. And he unpockets a paperclip, twisting the metal between his fingers into a little ring, and I laugh, tears pricking my eyes.
He told me, “You’ve got a Wednesday Night Dinner to prepare for. First non-Cobalt to walk those hallowed halls. Do us proud, man.”
“Many people need me, but there are only a handful that I’d drop everything for—and you’re now among them.” He cocked a single brow. “Just so you understand: you rank higher than security, and I would lie for you, if needed.”
Connor said, “don’t apologize for trying to deceive me, but I will accept an apology for failing.”
“I’ve always dreamed to one day be there for Moffy the way that my mom was there for her sister. I plan to extend the offer now that he’s with Farrow. I’d love nothing more than to do this for them…you
I’m about to show up late to my first Wednesday Night Dinner, and there’s one thing I know about Connor Cobalt—he hates how I remind him of Ryke Meadows. Who is perpetually fucking late to events.
And call me nuts, but I feel like this kitten is Jane. Sent by someone who knew I’d need her. Come here to tell me that it’s going to be okay. Calm down. Breathe.
Jane told me three things about Wednesday Night Dinner. The dress code is anything and everything and nothing. Costumes are acceptable. Being buck-naked is also acceptable. There are no rules. Conversation is not a requirement. Talk as much as you want or don’t talk at all. There are no rules. But there are rules. Only one. Come as you are. Be true to you. And all will fall into place.
I already have a name for her, and everyone here will give me shit for it. So I just say, “LJ.”
“LJ is short for Little Jane.”
Thatcher and I—we were never allowed in the same platoon. Because of a military rule about brothers. They don’t put them together in the unfortunate event that one dies. It ensures that the other will survive. So a parent won’t lose two sons at the same time.
“Your entire life is built on service to others. I don’t want different. I don’t need different. I need you exactly as you are, just as you’ve loved me as exactly as I am.”
He slips off the paperclip and slips on a pink sapphire ring, multi-colored gemstones set around the teardrop-cut.
