Page 16 of First in Line

“Sorry, I still didn’t get that.”

“An asshole!” I shout.

“There you go.”

“Stop teasing me about this. And should I remind you that I’m a small-time architect in a small town? Actually, I’mnot even a licensed architect. Nathan and I are compatible. Extremely compatible.”

He chuckles, the sound as low as the car’s roar as he drives us with ease through the morning traffic.

“Do you like your job?” he then wonders.

“I love it. Getting to help people build their dream houses is even better than I imagined.”

“What about yours? Did you build it?”

“No. I bought it like that, and I haven’t had time to work on the improvements I have in mind.”

“Will the backyard fit an infinity pool?”

“A very small one, maybe.”

When I look at him, I find his gaze already on me. I avert mine, but not quickly enough. I have time to notice the longing in those mismatched eyes, an expression I used to be so familiar with coming from him. We genuinely were great together, up until a certain point.

Despite all the feelings and memories these encounters are bringing back, I remain convinced that we’re better apart. Nathan is so much better suited for me and my life than Jackson ever was. I’m not falling back into that infinite whirlwind of worries and excitement. I’ve escaped that vortex once. I’m not risking it again.

The rest of the ride is utterly silent, and we pull in front of the office building a few minutes before I’m officially late. I’m about to get out of the car without another word when Jax stops me with, “Evie, wait.”

I brace myself for more of his teasing, but the graveness in his eyes tells me otherwise. “Let me meet Nathan,” he demands again. “I promise I’ll sign the divorce papers, no matter how it goes.”

“I don’t want you to meet my fiancé,” I counter.

“Why?”

“Because—” I’m not sure what to say, so I stop myself.

Because I don’t trust that you won’t try to intimidate him until he breaks off the engagement.

Because I told Nathan this thing we had was puppy love, a teenage fling that went a little too far, and if he sees us together, he’ll know I lied.

Because seeing you two in the same room will remind me of what I used to have and what I’m signing up for.

Because he won’t compare to you.

“Because I don’t want to,” I simply repeat.

“I see.”

I open the door, needing out of this oppressive space, and climb, almost literally, out of the car. Once the door is closed, I don’t turn around and walk to the entrance. Thankfully, it’s late enough that barely anyone is around, and only a couple of people witness my atypical way of transportation.

“You’re welcome for the ride,” Jackson shouts, having rolled down a window.

“Go fix my car, Hot Wheels,” I retort, turning around only for a second before continuing my walk.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

This time, I don’t turn around as I shout, “Then sign the papers!”

CHAPTER