Page 66 of Play With Me
“What will you do if Jackson likes the wizarding world?” I snap back playfully.
Maya’s face grows tomato red as my mom comes and stacks a pile of pancakes on my plate. “Who is Jackson? Is he your boyfriend?” she inquires mischievously.
“Oh my God, Anders. Shut. Up,” Maya stresses as she gets up to put her plate in the sink. “He’s no one, Greta. He doesn’t even know I exist.”
As she disappears around the corner, I turn to see Carmela smirking at Mom. “He’s my business partner, and she has a major crush on him.”
Mom’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and her comical expression makes me laugh, causing my coffee to get stuck in my throat. “Hopefully, your business partner is respectable and won’t get any fresh ideas.”
“Oh, God, no. Jackson would never.” Carmela grimaces.
I want to point out that Jackson is eighteen years older than Maya—only a six-year difference from the age gap between her and Mick. Not to justify Maya’s crush, but to see if Carmela would acknowledge it the same way. Granted, Maya is fourteen, and she was nineteen when she met Mick, but Jesus fucking Christ, she was still at an age with the word teen in it.
You’d think she’d view her relationship with Mick the same way.
I keep my mouth shut, though.
Finishing breakfast, I help Mom clean up before ushering Carmela and Maya into the Jeep to begin the journey north.
Mick isn’t the one here with them right now.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep reminding her of him.
Carmela
Exhaustion drips from every pore in my body. I don’t even feel like we did that much at Universal, but the sun beating down on us the entire day makes me long for the cooler temperatures of home.
Anders tells me it’s not even hot, but I’ve never left the East Coast. The weather is a lot warmer than I’m used to at this time of year.
“Are you sure you want to go out tonight?” I ask Anders, bracing my weight on the bathroom vanity. I just finished my makeup and still have to curl my hair into submission.
Maya is happily playing chess in the living room with Roe while sharing the sweets she acquired throughout the day. Greta is with them, working on a crochet project while Anders and I get ready for the evening. I no longer have any doubts about leavingher with them for a few hours. Maya seems more than comfortable, and they are genuinely nice people.
The talk Anders wants to have looms over my head like a thundercloud of impending doom. Once he says the words, everything will change. Become more complicated.
All my life, I’ve wanted a man to love me—well, at least one particular man. Now,thisman’s love threatens to tear our world apart.
Anders catches my eye in the wide mirror as he cleans up his beard. We've been in his home for less than forty-eight hours, and we’re already acting like we’ve been married for years. “I’m sure. I think you’re really gonna like the surprise I have for you.”
“Surprise?” He never mentioned anything about a surprise—just dinner. “What type of surprise?”
“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise now, would it?” He grins and slides over, bumping my hip with his. “Come on, Cara. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been acting weird since last night.”
Instinct has me snapping back, “I haven’t been weird. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I’m uncomfortable?”
“What do you mean?” He turns to me, eyes drilling into my profile as I continue to wrap my hair around the hot barrel of my curling iron without looking at him.
“Nothing,” I mutter. Self-sabotage is not my style, but right now, it’s coming pretty damn naturally. “This is just hard, Anders. Taking my kid away from the only home she’s ever known, flying her across the country to leave her with strangers.”
I steal a glance at him through the mirror to see his jaw tic and his brows draw together. “Maya is fine, Carmela. My mother isn’t going to–”
“She hasn’t even metmymother!” I cut him off, finally turning to look at him. He cants his head to the side before stepping into me, forcing me back against the closed door. “What are you doing?”
His arms rise to cage me between them as he braces his weight on his back foot and leans down until we’re eye level. “Do I need to fill your mouth with something so you’ll shut up and stop being such a brat?”
The whispered question has my eyes growing wide and my legs rubbing together. Talk about a turn of events.
“I’m being serious, Anders,” I manage shakily.