I scoff. “And what about the prostitute?”
“The second we got in that room and I knew it was clear, I threw a blanket to her and told her to cover herself up. That nothing was going to happen.”
“And she was perfectly okay with that? What about when your dad asked what happened?”
“At first, I was just planning to pay her off, but then she asked me if I was gay, and I went with it. Told her that I was afraid to come out of the closet; that my dad would never understand and disown me. I played on her sympathies. Asked her to pretend we fucked, and she agreed. We stayed in there for a while and made appropriate noises so it’d be believable. Then I took off.”
“How can you be so sure it worked? That she went along with it?”
“Because she told me her little brother was gay and he was in the same boat with their parents. Wound up committing suicide at fourteen. She said she’d do it for him.”
“Kingston, why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I’m telling the truth .”
I shake my head. “I saw how you looked at her. How you kissed her. You sure as hell looked like you were into it.”
“Because I had to look like I was into it! ”
I’m glad the windows are closed to muffle the volume because our voices are becoming increasingly louder.
Tears prick at my eyes. “I’m not going to be the stupid girl who’d rather feign ignorance than accept that her boyfriend is a cheater.”
“I’m not a fucking cheater!” His eyes are manic. “I’ve never been a cheater. Jesus-fucking-Christ, Jazz. You think I liked kissing that woman? I was trying not to fucking vomit! The thought of kissing someone else, being with someone who’s not you, makes me physically ill! It was all part of the act! ”
“How do I know this conversation isn’t an act?” I flick my finger between us. “That everything you’ve said to me isn’t an act?”
“Because if you’d get out of your own goddamn head for a second, you’d see the truth staring you in the face. You just need to look , Jazz.”
“And what’s that?”
“That I fucking love you, all right? I didn’t want to. God knows I fought it, but I couldn’t stop it. I. Fucking. Love. You.” Kingston rakes a hand through his thick hair. “If you don’t want to take my word for it, my mic was on the whole time I was in that house. Listen to the recording.”
I blink several times. “I don’t know what to say, Kingston.”
My head falls back against the seat as I close my eyes, processing. I open them again when I feel Kingston’s thumb brushing against my cheek.
“Jazz.” His voice is raspy. When our eyes meet, I see that his are also filled with tears. “Don’t shut me out.”
I put my hand over his. “I don’t want to, but it fucking hurts. I can’t just bleach the memory of you with that girl out of my brain.”
“I know, baby. And I’m so fucking sorry.” He scoots closer and rests his forehead against mine. “I need you, Jazz. We’re so close, but I can’t do this without you.”
I pull back and check my reflection in the mirror. “We need to get Belle. She’s been waiting in there for too long.”
“Are we good?” Kingston brushes some hair away from my face. “Because I can’t ever have you take off like that again. I was scared to death.”
I turn my face into him. “If you’re ever in a situation like that again... you need to find another way, Kingston. I won’t be okay with you touching someone else—not even kissing—even if it’s all part of the front. I can’t .”
“I swear on my fucking nuts. It won’t happen again.”
I jerk my head toward the house. “Well, then, let’s get Belle to that museum. We can talk more later.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Chapter 12
KINGSTON
The last twenty-four hours have seemed like days. When I had no idea where Jazz was, I imagined the worst. Then, when Bent told me she called and that he heard some dude’s voice in the background, I wasn’t exactly relieved, considering what she witnessed earlier in the evening. I spent the rest of the night wondering if she was going to seek refuge in some other guy’s arms because she thought I fucked someone else.
When I saw her sitting in the car with her asshole ex this morning, I was even more concerned and instantly irate. Jazz wouldn’t be the first person to fall back in bed with an ex because the familiar provides comfort. I still don’t know what happened, and quite frankly, I don’t think I want to after she was struck silent when I dropped the L-bomb. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that—hell, I didn’t even realize it until the words left my mouth—but once it was out there, it was too late to take it back.
The fact that she had nothing to say in return... well, fuck. I don’t know what to do with that. I’m not surprised she didn’t immediately return the sentiment, but I also can’t say I’m not butthurt by that. I’ve never said those words to any woman besides my mom or sister. And with Jazz, they carry an entirely different meaning. Fuck, I’m so tied up in knots over this girl, it’s not even funny.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just go pack a bag and stay at my place?” I shift my car into park in front of Callahan’s mansion.
“I’m sure, Kingston. Just like I was the first five times you asked.” Jazz unbuckles her seat belt and turns toward me. “Thank you for making another Sunday special for my sister.”
My eyebrows lift. “Special for Belle... but not for you?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ve just got a lot going through my head right now. I had a nice enough time, though, so thanks.”
“A nice enough time,” I repeat. “Just what every guy wants to hear when he takes his girlfriend out for the day.”
Jazz sighs. “Goodnight, Kingston. Don’t worry about me in the morning. I’ll have Frank give me a ride to school.”
I watch, dumbfounded, as she hikes her backpack over her shoulder and exits the vehicle. Jazz doesn’t look back once as she approaches the front door or steps inside the house. I’m not sure how long I stare at that door, waiting for her to come back before I launch into action. I use my key to go through the side door and make my way over to the staircase. I don’t run into anyone on the way, but unfortunately, my luck runs out when I reach the upper level.
Peyton freezes just outside her bedroom as she sees me. She pulls on the doorknob, shutting the door behind her. “Kingston. W-what are you doing here?”
I take in her disheveled hair, kiss-swollen lips, and sticky skin. Based on her appearance and the distinct smell of sex wafting from her, it’s obvious Peyton isn’t alone in her bedroom. Usually, she’d rub that in my face, because she’s holding out hope that one day I’ll care, but Peyton’s being oddly cagey right now, which tells me she doesn’t want me to know who’s in there.
“We’ll get to that. I’d like to know what you’re trying to hide first.”
She balks. “Why would I try to hide something from you?”
I jerk my chin over her shoulder. “Who’s in your bedroom, Peyton?”
Peyton glares. “None of your business, Kingston. Unless you want to be in my bedroom, you lost the right to ask.”
“What if I said I did want another chance? Would you let me in?”
Her eyes widen. “Uh... I mean, I’d have to think about it.”
I scoff. “You’d have to think about it, huh? So, if I told you to turn around, walk back into your room, and bend over the bed so I can pound you into the mattress, you’d have to think about it? ”
Peyton’s nipples harden through the short, silk robe she’s wearing, telling me she likes that idea very much. I, however, am trying not to lose my dinner all over the floor.
“Well... I mean... if you really wanted to...”
“All you need to do is tell your current company to leave, Peyton.” I finger the collar of her robe. “Then, I could remind you what a solid fucking really is.”
Her cheeks pinken. “Uh... if you can just give me a few minutes.”