The love of a badboy

Chapter Seven

Jamie sat curled up on her sister's plush velvet couch, a glass of white wine cradled in her hands. The warmth of the drink soothed her nerves, but not enough to settle the restless energy buzzing inside her.

After spending the entire morning down at the pool and watching Lily play with all her little friends, they went back to Aria's Condo. She had just tucked Lily into Aria's spare room, and, with Aria's girlfriend still out on a grocery run, Jamie figured now was the perfect—if slightly terrifying—time to ask what had been on the edge of her tongue since she sat down.

Aria plopped down beside her, effortlessly balancing a half-full wine bottle under one arm while cradling a bowl of chips in the other. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table, smirk already in place.

"So, what's on your mind, sis?" she asked before taking a slow sip of her wine.

Jamie sighed, swirling the liquid in her glass. "How'd you know?"

Aria shot her a knowing look. "Please. I know you. You can't hide anything from me."

Jamie huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "Okay, fine. There's this guy—"

Aria's smirk deepened as she wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh, now this just got interesting." She straightened, the irony making her giggle to herself.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "It's not like that… I think." She hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Anyway, I… I've started having, um—dreams about him."

Aria's brows shot up. "Dreams?" she repeated, feigning innocence before breaking into a devilish grin. "Wait. You mean wet dreams?"

Jamie groaned, her face heating instantly. "God, why do I even tell you these things?" she muttered, taking a large gulp of wine.

Aria cackled, reaching for a chip. "No, no, continue. I live for this."

Jamie sighed. “You remember the guy who helped me the other night? With the electricity?”

"Oh." Aria dragged out the word, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You mean Ethan Cross? The hot biker boy you said was 'oh-so-dangerous'?" She made air quotes, then burst into laughter. "Damn, sis, you really have a type."

Jamie groaned again, sinking further into the couch. "You are supposed to be giving me advice," she mumbled, though she couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

Aria waggled her wine glass in the air. "Fine, fine. But first, let's talk about these dreams. Like, how bad are we talking? PG-13? R-rated? Full-blown, wake-up-screaming-his-name level?"

Jamie slapped a hand over her face. "Oh my God, Ari."

Aria cackled even harder, tossing a chip into her mouth. "Sis, you're all flustered, and it's adorable. So, spill. Did he—?" She wiggled her fingers suggestively.

Jamie snatched a pillow and chucked it at her. "Shut up!"

Aria dodged easily, still grinning. "Alright, alright. Serious question—do you want something to happen with him? Or is this just your body waking up after, you know, a long-ass dry spell?"

Jamie hesitated, biting her lip. That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it?

Did she want Ethan Cross? Or was this just years of pent-up frustration manifesting in the form of a cocky, smirking bad boy who was way too good at getting under her skin?

She wasn't sure.

"That's why I'm here," Jamie admitted, swirling the last of her wine in her glass. "I don't know if I can or want to."

Aria leaned forward, arching a perfectly shaped brow. "Okay, first of all—do you want a relationship with him?"

Jamie didn't even hesitate. "Hell no."

Aria smirked. "Then it's just physical attraction."

Jamie groaned, pressing her fingers against her temples. "I guess."

Aria shrugged, sipping her wine. "Which can be easily solved if you just let him have his way with you for one night." She giggled. "And for the record, I'd be more than happy to take Lily off your hands if it means you can finally get some."

Jamie opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, the front door swung open with a loud thud.

Francisca waltzed in, struggling under the weight of enough grocery bags to feed an entire town.

"How much food did you buy?" Aria asked, rushing over to grab some of the bags before her girlfriend collapsed under their weight.

"Enough to last a couple of days," Francisca huffed. Then, after a dramatic pause, she grinned. "Or, you know, into next year."

Jamie watched as Aria playfully rolled her eyes, setting the bags on the counter while Francisca stretched out her arms. There was something so effortless about them—so comfortable. The love between them was matched, balanced, and unwavering.

For a fleeting moment, Jamie wondered what that might feel like.

Not that she wanted to be with a woman—she liked men far too much, or at least what they came with—but she envied the security in their relationship. The ease. The trust. A relationship where she didn't have to hide who she was or live in fear of being hurt.

She hadn't had that before. Not even close.

Francisca sank into the armchair across from Jamie, pouring herself a glass of wine as Aria busied herself in the kitchen. It took about twenty minutes of playful arguing before Francisca finally gave up and let Aria take over making lunch.

"So," Francisca started, taking a sip, "what's new with you?"

Jamie exhaled. "Oh, you know—Lily, and work. The café's actually doing really well." She brightened slightly. "We made a profit last month, which is crazy considering it's only been open for a few months."

"That's amazing," Francisca said, smiling warmly. "I'm so happy for you."

Jamie nodded, warmth filling her chest. She hadn't wanted to leave the city at first, but Francisca had convinced Aria to move south, and Jamie followed soon after. It had been the right choice—not just for her, but for Lily, too.

"I'm really loving it here," Jamie admitted.

"And Lily is, too. She found a dance school near her current school, and she's making so many new friends."

Francisca set her wine down, watching Jamie carefully.

"That's all great, but…" She trailed off, her expression turning serious.

Jamie sighed. She knew exactly what was coming.

"There's still one major problem hanging over your head," Francisca said.

Jamie pressed her lips together, nodding slowly. "The divorce."

She didn't even have to say it outright.

Legally, she and Sam weren't separated. She had full custody of Lily, though. On paper, things should have been done.

But they weren't.

Because Sam wants custody.

And while Jamie didn't want to take Lily away from her father, she wasn't sure she could trust him to be alone with her.

Not after everything.

And then there was the other thing.

The thing that made Jamie's stomach churn with frustration every time she checked her messages.

Sam still wanted her back.

Every week, without fail, he sent messages about how he was a changed man.

How he wanted to "fix things" for their family. How they should "try again."

Jamie had made up her mind a long time ago.

She was done.

Nothing—nothing—was going to change that.

Francisca studied her for a long moment before finally saying, "You know you have to deal with it, right?"

Jamie clenched her jaw, staring down at her wine glass.

She knew.

And sooner or later, she'd have to face it.

But not today.

Today, she just wanted to drink wine, laugh with her sister, and—maybe—figure out what the hell to do about Ethan Cross.

Maybe she needed to talk to Sam.

One last time.

Not because she missed him—not even close. But because holding on to unresolved emotions was only keeping her tethered to a past she was desperately trying to outgrow. She couldn't move forward if parts of her were still clinging to what had already burned to ash.

But then her mind, as unreliable as ever, drifted again.

To him.

To Ace.

She didn't even know him. But that didn't stop her from wondering what he was like behind closed doors. What kind of partner he was. Whether he had someone already—maybe a girlfriend tucked away in some apartment with a drawer full of his T-shirts and a toothbrush beside his.

He looked like he lived alone. There was a stillness about him, a kind of quiet independence that didn't need attention to thrive. But that didn't mean he was single.

Still… the way he acted. The things he said.

That voice—low, gravelly, and confident, curling around her name like smoke.

The way he looked at her. It had to be flirting, didn't it?

But Jamie wasn't so sure anymore. She'd been out of the game for too long. A full relationship, intimacy, flirting—it all felt like a foreign language she'd once spoken fluently but had since forgotten. And men like Ace? They didn't flirt with women like her, did they?

She was a mom. She ran a business. She had a five-year-old who still needed help putting on her socks and an ex-husband who had left her feeling smaller than she'd ever admitted.

What would a man like that want with her?

Was it real interest?

Or was he just doing it to get under her skin?

That part—she couldn't quite figure out. And it gnawed at her.

Jamie had driven to Aria's place, hoping to find answers. Hoping her sister could talk her through the confusion, help her untangle what the hell was going on in her head.

But now, as she sat in the guest bedroom staring at the ceiling while Lily laughed in the background with Francisca, it felt like she was leaving with more questions than when she'd arrived.

Still, one thing was becoming painfully, blisteringly clear.

She was touch-starved.

Craving.

It had been too damn long since someone had made her feel… wanted. Touched her like they meant it. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself she didn't need that kind of thing right now, her body screamed a different truth.

The worst part? She already knew exactly who could scratch that itch.

Ace.

Rough, unreadable, frustratingly hot Ace—with his slow smirk and eyes that saw way too much.

Now, the only question was: could she actually go through with it? Could she walk up to him, say what needed to be said, and propose a one-night stand without spontaneously combusting?

It sounded easy enough in theory.

But the small voice in the back of her mind—quiet and anxious and afraid—wasn't having as much fun with the idea. That voice reminded her she wasn't the same carefree girl she used to be. She'd been broken, pieced herself back together, and now stood on shaky legs pretending to be steel.

What if she gets hurt again?

What if this time… it cut deeper?

Still, she couldn't ignore the ache.

Not just the physical one. But the deeper, lonelier ache—the one that whispered that she deserved to feel good again. Deserved to feel wanted. Even if only for a night.

Jamie let out a breath, long and slow, the sound mingling with distant laughter from the other room.

She might not have all the answers yet.

But she had a plan.