Jackson’s tone was light and friendly. He intertwined his fingers with mine and shifted his weight on the bench, putting us closer together. “Don’t worry. She only says good things about you.”
Carter clenched his jaw, then relaxed it again so quickly I thought maybe I’d imagined it. An easy smile slid back into place. “You’ve got one up on me. She’s never told me anything about you.”
Was the air getting thicker, or was it my imagination? “Should we get coffee, since we’re here?” I asked.
“Good call. My treat.” Carter stood. “It’s late, so vanilla steamer for you.” He glanced at me for a second, before turning to Jackson. “And you?”
“Double shot Americano.”
“Be right back.” Carter turned away.
Jackson draped an arm around my waist, and trailed his nose up the side of my neck. “Do you want to go?” His whisper caressed my ear.
I leaned into him. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to fall into whimpering and hiding behind niceties. I couldn’t change my decisions from back then, but I still liked the life we had now. There was no reason to destroy that. I rested my hand on his thigh and squeezed. “I’m good. We’re good. Aren’t we?”
“Always, I hope.” He nipped my shoulder with his teeth.
Carter returned a few minutes later and set our drinks in front of us. “Apparently, I don’t know as much about the two of you as I thought.” The creeping animosity had vanished from his voice, and his tone was casual now. “Where’d you meet? How’d you fall in love? Is the ink as new as it looks?”
My hand flew to the tattoo on my neck, and I rubbed the line with my thumb. “Online. It just kind of happened. And if it looks like it’s still healing, then yes.”
Carter leaned his head back, exhaled loudly, and then focused on us again. “You look happy.”
“We are.” I didn’t want to be mean, but honesty was important.
“What did she tell you?” Carter asked Jackson.
My pulse kicked to a painful trot. I’d been as straightforward as I could, and I trusted Jackson, but that didn’t stop trepidation from galloping through me over his answer.
“Said you were the love of her life when she was in her early twenties.” An edge lined Jackson’s voice. He cleared his throat. “That you wanted an open relationship, to invite other people in, but only if she was willing. That you promised not to pressure her into anything she wasn’t ready for.”
That was almost an exact summary of what I’d told Jackson. So why didn’t hearing it take the edge off my mood?
“Did she tell you why she left?”
“I’m right here. You could ask me.” I winced at the irritation in my voice. I hadn’t meant to snap, but the third person thing was crawling under my skin.
“I could”—Carter looked at me—“but I already have a pretty good idea what you said. Sweet, honest, self-sacrificing Zoe. I remember. I wanted to know what he’d say.”
“So, she really left you so she wouldn’t get in your way?” Jackson asked.
“Yup.” Carter reached across the table, nudged my fingers away from my drink, and slid his hand under mine.
A shock of familiarity flooded me, tingling in my gut. I pushed the memories aside.
“We’re cool now, right? It was a long time ago. We were still finding ourselves. I forgave you already.” His jaw worked up and down, as if he wanted to say something else, but he snapped his mouth shut.
At his reassurance, some of my tension evaporated. I squeezed his hand before pulling away. “Yeah, we’re fine now.”
“Good.” He slouched a few inches in his seat, and his smile looked more casual and genuine. “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Right?” Jackson laughed. His grip on my hand eased, but he didn’t let go. “I’m just glad we cleared the air.”
“Absolutely,” Carter said. “Though I am curious what it took to strip your filters off, Zoe. I knew Pixie sounded like you, but the things that came out of