Mine Would Be You (61)

Not that I can even blame them.

The man is literally irresistible.

As if he can sense me thinking about him as I eat my mom’s delicious cake, he taps lightly on my spine like he always does.

I flick my eyes up to my parents. “You guys are traitors.”

“Not even they can hide the truth, Nina. Just embrace it.” The confidence drips off Jackson’s words, and I ignore the flare of heat in my stomach as I roll my eyes at him.

We finish the cake, and even though he’s right next to me, I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s stupid, but him meeting my parents, albeit earlier than I would’ve liked, and my parents liking him feels like a really important thing.

It’s given me a feeling of security that envelops me. Like I’m not crazy for feeling this way about him.

Jackson helps my mom clean up the kitchen before we get ready to leave as my dad leans next to me in the hallway. “He seems great, sweetie,” he says softly, and I lean against him. “He better make sure it stays that way.”

Ah, there’s Mr. Tough Guy.

I hit him on the chest with the back of my hand. “Dad.”

He holds up his hands before wrapping them around me in a hug. “I’m just kidding. You seem happy. He seems great. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m scared,” I admit. He squeezes me, and I exhale.

“That’s part of life. Just don’t let it keep you from living it. Okay?”

My heart flutters as I squeeze him back. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I watch my mom give Jackson a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before they walk over. He shakes my dad’s hand again before Dad pulls him into a hug.

“Ready to go?”

I nod in response.

“Again, thank you guys so much. It was really wonderful to meet you.” His blue eyes shine as he twirls his keys on his fingers.

“Anytime. We’ll see you at the holiday,” Dad says as they walk us out, and Mom kisses me on the cheek. “Bye, sweetie,” she calls before gently shutting the door behind us.

It’s dark out, no sign of stars in the sky. Only the streetlights illuminate our walk to the car. I’m almost positive my parents are watching us, and I can envision the stupid grin on my mom’s face as Jackson opens the door for me like always.

He holds out his hand to help me step up. I put my hand in his, and he gives it a squeeze before shutting my door and climbing in on the driver’s side. The drive back into the city is surprisingly easy, and we fall into a comfortable silence as I watch the buildings pass us by. The playlist he made for the Hamptons trip is on in the background, and I’m not ashamed to say I know every single word to every single song.

I realize I don’t really want the night to end.

He leans into his seat and looks over at me at a stop light, his left dimple—which is always first to show—peeks through just slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he says quietly, blue eyes searching.

My own flick over the smooth planes of his face, from the curls to the freckles to his lips and back to his eyes. “Because I can,” I say reaching out and tugging softly on a curl. “Do you want to hang out?”

His dimple pops a bit more. “Hang out?”

“Watch a movie or something, I don’t know. I just want to spend time with you.”

Jackson’s cheeks flush ever so lightly. “So you do like me?”

I roll my eyes, fighting my own smile. “You know I do,” I admit softly, even though it’s not a secret. In fact, I think it’s quite obvious.

“I do now.” He intertwines his free hand with mine, resting it on my thigh. The stoplight changes, and he drives on. “You have lunch with Emma downtown, right? You can come to my place if you want and go from there?”

I bite my lip. “Is that okay with you?”

His eyes connect with mine instantly, and that ghost of a smile turns into a full-fledged grin. “It’s more than okay with me, sunshine.”





Valentina Scott is in my bed.

Not a pillow wall in sight, and she looks fucking beautiful. Her hair is pulled back loosely, framing the warm brown skin of her bright cheeks. My T-shirt is draped over her body and every addicting inch of her is branded to my memory.

Meeting her parents went terrific for me, and I take it as a step forward that she decided to let me come. Ever since we’ve left, it seems like a weight has been lifted off her. I’m hoping that she’s ready to let me in. To let me show her that she deserves everything good in the world a million times over. I would do just about anything to ensure she knows that. To make her believe it. But for now, I’ll take the barely-there, warm smile she gives me as I approach.

I settle in next to her, placing the two waters on the nightstand with only the TV light on. Blurry city lights stream through the windows. “Your parents are great.”

She turns towards me. “Yeah they are something. They adored you.”

“I’m happy to have made a good impression,” I say genuinely, stretching out my legs.

“I don’t think you’ve ever made a bad impression in your life, Jackson,” she mutters softly, her brown eyes meeting mine.

“Well, I certainly made a good one on you.” I raise a brow playfully, and she reaches out and flicks my nose with a smile, one of my favorite sights. Before she can pull her hand back, I grab it and intertwine our fingers, the simple touch igniting my entire body. “How do you feel?”