And besides, as drunk as he was, he was right about one thing. We needed to work things out between us. Maybe, some neutral ground was a good idea.
“So how long are we going?” I asked in amusement.
“As long as it takes,” he replied, staring into his coffee cup. “This is some really shitty coffee.”
“Tell you what… It can be your job to find me good decaf for the rest of my pregnancy, okay?”
“Good idea. Right, let me make a note,” he said, opening something on his phone. “Good stuff coffee,” he said to himself.
* * * *
“Oh my God, shoot me,” Jameson groaned across from me.
I put my reader on my lap and looked over at him. “Nope, no deal.”
“You’re here,” he said, the faintest of smiles curling the edges of his lips. “Wait…where is here? Are we on my plane?”
“What do you remember?”
“Going to the bar with all my brothers… Damn it, Willow! Why are we on a plane? Should you even be flying?”
“You don’t remember promising to take me on my dream trip? You even said you’d fight a bear for me.”
“Willow…” he warned.
“You’ve been asleep awhile.” I glanced out the window. “By my calculations, we’re somewhere over the Atlantic. You said you’re taking me away somewhere that we could hash things out. Somewhere neutral.”
“I’m taking you to fucking Switzerland!” he yelled. “Jesus, I must have been really drunk. But you agreed?”
I shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Don’t think I don’t know why, brat.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who was swilling whiskey last night.”
“You better not have been. You’ve got my kid in there.”
“That remains to be seen,” I snarked.
“You and I both know it is. And I’m going to be there every fucking second—don’t you try and stop me. Ballgames, dances, wedding, whatever. We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but it doesn’t matter to me. I already have more feelings in the tip of my pinky for that little bean than your father had for anyone his entire life. So don’t you make a mistake about that.”
Tears pricked my eyes at his adamant declaration. “Little bean,” I whispered.
“Aw, fuck,” he swore, tearing off his seatbelt. He stumbled across to me and scooped me up then sat with me on his lap. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’ve never, ever wanted to make you cry—well, except back when I was a crappy six-year-old and even then, not really.”
“You’re really cute when you babble,” I said, leaning into his chest.
“I just want to do the right thing with you.”
I closed my eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“Not like that. Fuck, if you think I’ll marry you just for the kid, you’re wrong. When I get married, it will be because of love. Do you understand me?”
I shook my head. My thoughts instantly went to him finding another woman and falling for her. Pain sliced into my chest so deep that I almost gasped. Was that how he felt when he’d thought I was with another man?
“I’m sorry I let you think it was someone else,” I said into his shirt. His hand buried in my hair, and he cradled me there.
“Yeah, that fucking sucked.”
“If you want to try to figure this out, see if we can stand each other at close quarters for more than a couple hours at a time, I’m willing to try.”
His chest heaved beneath my ear as he sighed. “I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”
“I think we both do.” We knew how to fight. We knew how to screw. I wasn’t so sure what else we had between us.
Chapter Eight
~ Jameson ~
Fucking Switzerland? This was why I didn’t drink.
Willow’s stomach grumbled, and she giggled into my chest. I was still holding her on my lap and didn’t have any immediate plan to let her go.
“Kathy!” I called out to our stewardess.
“Yeah, boss,” she said, walking over with a smile. “What can I get you?”
“Don’t do that,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Do what?” Kathy asked.
“That boss shit,” I said. “You know I hate that.”
“She still calls Luke and Chase Mr. Malloy,” Willow said with a laugh.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Not all of us abandoned our high school friends when we became gazillionaires, doofus,” Willow shot back. “We all graduated together, and a lot of us keep in touch.”
“It’s nice to see you guys getting along?” Kathy said, her tone making it more of a question than a statement. “Can I get you guys anything?”
“Ms. Tate is starving,” I informed her. “What do we have on board?”
“Pantry is fully stocked, sir,” Kathy said, giving me a mocking salute. “I can cook you guys something, or there’s everything to make sandwiches and I can make something a little heavier for dinner.”
“How long into the flight are we?” I asked, looking at Willow.
“Only about six hours,” she answered with a shrug. “A sandwich sounds awesome,” she told Kathy.
“Same,” I said.
Kathy nodded and bustled off to the galley.
I turned back to Willow and grinned at her. “You actually pulled this off?”
“You did,” she corrected me. “You made the flight plans. I just packed a bag.”
“Fuck,” I groused. “I don’t have anything with me, do I?”
“Nope,” she said cheerily.
“You’re very pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?”
“Yup!”
“You’re the devil.” I pulled her face to mine and kissed her softly.
“Probably,” she agreed breathlessly.
Kathy returned with lunch, and I had to
