Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(46)

I nod to the bottle. “I guess I was trying to impress you. It was stupid.”

“If you want to impress me, keep doing what you did last night.” He winks. “And again this morning.”

My face heats up. It surprises me. I don’t think I’ve blushed in front of him since I was sixteen.

He opens the pack of tennis balls. “We have a couple of minutes. Want to toss him a few?”

Heisman waits patiently in the kitchen doorway, tail wagging when he sees the ball. I take it from Jaxon. “Let’s go play fetch, Heisman.”

He turns in a circle and beats us to the door.

“So about last night and this morning,” Jaxon says with an air of hesitation. “We were kind of reckless. I should have asked if you wanted me to use a condom. Or are you still on the pill? And so you know, I’ve never gone without a condom except with you.”

I throw the tennis ball across the backyard, not wanting Jaxon to see my face. It’s hard for me not to picture him making love to Calista and kissing some faceless woman from the city, who in my mind looks like Marilyn Monroe. How many others has he dated?

“Three.”

My eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“You forget how well I know you, Nic. You were wondering how many women I’ve… done things with since you.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“There was the girl I kissed.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and blows out a frustrated huff.

“You have no idea how fucking sorry I am for that. If I could take it back…”

I shake my head. “Like we said this morning, we both did things we regret.”

“My mom introduced me to Brittany, her friend’s daughter from White Plains. We saw each other for a month or so last year. And that brings us to Calista.”

By my count he’s slept with two other women. A small number by most people’s standards. Still, jealousy grips my insides at the thought of him with anyone but me. I try to push the emotion away. I have no right to feel it. I throw the ball, harder this time. “You’ve really expanded your repertoire.” I sit, perch my head on my hands, and close my eyes. “Sorry, that was completely uncalled for.”

“You don’t think I’ve thought about you with other men a million times? You don’t think I’ve tied them up and dismembered them in my dreams? Do you know how long I went around town suspecting everyone with a cock?” He takes the seat next to me. “Makes me a goddamn hypocrite.”

“Can we agree to never again talk about who we did or didn’t sleep with?”

“Hallelujah to that.” His phone timer goes off. “I need to take the lasagna out. Want to help me make the salad?”

“Sure. Come on, Heisman, let’s go inside.” He trots over dutifully, and I ruffle his tuft. “You’ve trained him well. It’s almost like he can understand us.”

“You have no idea. I swear that dog is half human.”

It feels eerily familiar when I open the refrigerator and get out the salad ingredients. Everything is where it always was, right down to the salad dressing in the lower right bin. It’s as if time stood still.

“Holler if you need help finding anything,” he says. Then he winks. He knows I don’t.

I busy myself tearing lettuce. I figure now is as good a time as any to tell him my other news.

“Back to our previous conversation. I’m not on the pill.” I peek over. He’s surprised, but almost in a way that makes him look pleased. For a second, my heart sinks. “Don’t worry about it, though. I won’t end up pregnant.”

“Do I seem worried? And why not? You keep track of your cycle?”

I will not cry. I will not cry.

“After my miscarriage, I needed a D and C because some of the placenta remained attached.”

He takes off the oven mitts and leans against the counter. “I feel an and coming.”

“And nothing happened at first. It was a normal recovery. But as time went on, my periods became out of whack. I even missed some completely, which was never normal for me.”

“Fuck, Nicky. Is this something we should have a glass of wine for?”

I shrug. “I have something called Asherman’s Syndrome. It’s a condition that can happen when scar tissue develops after a D and C. There are treatment options that can remove the scar tissue, but since I wasn’t having any pain, and I wasn’t planning a family, my gynecologist said doing nothing was the best option.”

“But…” He runs a hand across his jaw.

“But it means it’s highly unlikely that I can get pregnant.” I pick up a tomato and paste on a smile.

“Which is good, right? Since we didn’t use protection.”

He pours me a glass of wine. “Damn it, Nicky. I’m sorry.”

I take a sip and swallow the tears burning my throat along with the wine. “I knew I was still being punished for what I’d done.”

“Come here.” He pulls me in for a hug. Being in his arms feels safe. It feels right. “None of this is your fault. I’ve had all day to think about this. You didn’t cause the miscarriage, and you certainly couldn’t have caused the complication. You’re punishing yourself by even thinking it.”