Her comment deflated my anger. “Is that so? Once upon a damn time, you wanted everything to do with me. I was your world, and you were mine.”
Her brow furrowed. I moved to rub her shoulder but she flinched away. “Seems like lyrics to an old love song, Jax. Your fans would love it.” Her tone held sarcasm. “I’m not a fan though. So, save it for your next album.”
I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. “There’s not going to be a next album. I don’t want to fight with you tonight.”
She squinted at me while I studied her.
Even without the height, she’d have been a phenomenal addition on my brother’s arm tonight. People were enamored as soon as she stepped out of that limo. Her green eyes and red dress hugging all the right places reminded every man what Christmas was like.
I’d seen her with Jay and instantly wanted to rip my own brother’s arm off just so she wouldn’t touch another man in front of me.
I tried to chalk my reaction up to the old habit of jealousy. She wasn’t mine or a part of my life anymore.
But she used to be every part of it.
I lived and breathed for her when I was younger. When I left, I’d wanted to be the bigger person for about a minute by breaking things off and letting us both grow up.
For about a minute.
It took Frank threatening her well-being to realize I didn’t want to be any of that. I just wanted to be with her, but it was too late.
I had gotten roped into something I was too immature to handle.
So, I wrote songs about her, named an album after her, and then tried to move on away from her.
And I had moved on.
Moved on and up. I surrounded myself with beautiful cityscapes and million-dollar investments. I had beautiful women on each arm and a multi-platinum album in a penthouse that overlooked my world.
I had moved on and up, yet the view up there didn’t look half as good as the woman standing in front of me.
I had her up here all to myself and I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep my hands off her even if she wasn’t mine.
Aubrey sighed in front of me. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting,” she conceded and tried for a nonchalant shrug. “We have nothing to fight about. Let’s get back down to the party, okay?” she said just above a whisper.
I nodded but didn’t say anything. I’d told her I didn’t want to fight but with her telling me that we shouldn’t be, it made me want to shake her, rile her up, push her past the façade she’d thrown up for me.
If she thought we had nothing to fight about and that she wanted nothing to do with me, I’d just have to prove her wrong.