KIMBERLY

turkeys want to slaughter us on Thanksgiving?" I asked innocently, standing in Jace's doorway while he was getting ready.

His hand paused on the third button on his shirt before his head swiveled to me with that look of disbelief. After a few seconds of processing, he shrugged. "If I was a turkey, I would want to."

I nodded. "Your responses have gotten better."

"I'm learning to expect the unexpected," he replied, tugging his suit jacket on.

"Your reaction time could be better." I walked closer, checking myself out in the mirror. "Is this too much for Thanksgiving with your mom?"

"I don't think there's an appropriate reaction time to being asked if turkeys think about mass murder, Kimberly," he snarked. "And you look... beautiful."

"I know."

He rolled his eyes, but I knew I was growing on him. In the last few weeks, the two of us have been fucking nonstop. The previous months of sexual frustration made me horny all the time, and Jace had no problem obliging, even though we spent most of our time at the office.

But one thing remained the same. During sex and in our everyday lives, I managed to make him speechless with my intrusive thoughts and insults.

Regardless, he'd opened up a lot more about his childhood and mom. I occasionally relented pieces of information about myself, but it was so miniscule, I could tell it frustrated him.

Call it trauma, but I couldn't find it in myself to be open like that.

"So, what's the plan today again?" I asked, retucking my cream sweater into my brown leather skirt.

"We're going to your parents house first, then driving to Philly to see Mom and Emre's family," he replied, tugging on my arm so I could stop messing with my hair. "Hurry up or we'll be late."

"One of these days, you'll realize how little those words mean to me," I smiled brightly, keeping my ground.

Shaking his head, he lowered himself and threw my body over his shoulder, my ass sticking up in the air. My instant reaction was to start slapping his back. But the man had muscles, annoyingly so. He didn't budge at all, resorting to spanking my butt once.

"Don't."

"Put me down, Jace," I warned, still thrashing. Again, he simply ignored me and continued to walk down the stairs. Before I knew it, he placed me onto the couch and gave me a stern stay put look.

"Where are your shoes?"

I pointed in the direction of my room and Jace immediately started walking. "Don't forget my hat too! I need it for my outfit!" I yelled out.

In two minutes, he was at the top of the stairs with my custom tan suede red-bottom boots that tied at the top and the wrong hat.

"That's the wrong hat!" I yelled again. I wanted the brown beret, but he was holding a tan plaid newsboy cap. They both worked, theoretically, but I had a vision.

"Shut up. It matches," he replied, making his way down the stairs.

I remained scowling as he got down on his knees before me and began working the thigh-high boots up. The skin touched by his large, warm fingers was set aflame, and just like that, I was in the mood again. It was dangerous how I didn't think it was possible to get enough of him.

I could tell by the soft caress of his fingers that Jace felt it too. His lips lightly touched the exposed skin of my thigh above the bow he just tied in a soft kiss. "You have the smoothest legs," he whispered, his breath warming my skin.

Hooking my other leg over his shoulder, I pulled him closer to my center. "Think we have time for a round?" I sounded breathless mixed with a tad bit of desperation, but I couldn't find a single ounce of care in me.

He just laughed, his close proximity causing me to feel the vibrations everywhere. "I don't think we'll ever have enough time for what I want to do to you. Regardless, the last thing I want to do is tell your parents we're late because I was busy eating their daughter out."

"We don't have to say anything," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.

"Kimberly," he warned, closing his eyes.

"Fine... but you better make it up to me later," I winked, releasing him.

"That's a promise I'm willing to keep." He placed another kiss before getting up. "Does your mom like Spanish desserts?"

For once, I was able to shoot him the 'are you serious?' look. "And you say I ask stupid questions. Yes, she loves Spanish desserts."

Ignoring my first comment, he replied, "Good. Since you seem to love almond desserts, I was hoping she did too, so I made Spanish almond cake last night."

My traitorous heart skipped a beat and I had to forcefully stop myself from hitting it into submission. "She'll love it." My voice came out softer than I was hoping for it too.

Nodding, he went to the kitchen and returned with a nicely wrapped cake box.

And, as expected but unwanted, my heart skipped many more beats.

♕♕♕

"Mama," I greeted my mother, pulling her into my arms. "I missed you."

Even though I talked to her on the phone, the last time I saw her was at the twins' birthday party. Dad was usually in the office, so I would see him when he dropped by Jace's office.

"Liar," she admonished, slapping my arm. "If you missed me, you'd come by to see me. Are you not going to take care of me when I'm older?"

Jace and I followed the overdramatic women inside. "I see where you get it from," Jace whispered into my ear. I simply hit his arm and attempted to console my mother.

"Remind me how much money you have again," I asked teasingly for the millionth time.

She slapped my arm again, "Chiquitita, I don't care if I can afford to have someone take care of me. All I want is my daughter."

"Chiquitita?" I asked. Mom normally reserved that nickname for very special occasions.

"My daughter and her husband are coming to see me after so long..." Her hand came up to stroke my face. "Speaking of... how are you, Jace? Has my daughter driven you insane yet?"

Jace simply laughed. "I think I'm past the point of insanity, but other than that, everything's going well." He handed her the cake box. "I made an almond cake for the family dinner tonight, since we're missing it."

There my traitorous heart goes again.

"Thank you! I didn't know you cooked," Mom announced happily. "I'm glad at least one of you can."

Dad came up behind her. "Bear... Jace. It's good to see you both again." Dad shook Jace's hand before giving me a loose hug.

Even though our relationship was now significantly better, there was still unspoken hesitation between us. It made sense considering how long we spent at odds. He went back to calling me by my childhood nickname, which was good enough for me.

"Liam, do you remember the birthday cake incident?" Mom asked as we all sat in the living room.

"Who could forget?" Dad replied before turning his attention to Jace. "Kim is a talented girl, but never ask her to cook. I can still taste the burnt, salty chocolate cake." He shuddered obnoxiously.

I get the overdramatic trait from both of them.

"Salty?" Jace asked, turning to look at me.

"It's not my fault sugar and salt look the same." I raised my hands up defensively.

Mom laughed at my expense. "You didn't think to taste it?"

"It was an honest mistake," I argued.

Dad scoffed. "What about the time you put the bowl still covered by foil in the microwave?"

"I didn't start it."

"Because your mom screamed her head off before you could."

I saw Jace shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah, I'm never letting you in the kitchen unsupervised."

Needless to say, I smacked his arm again.

"Moving on," I started in a futile attempt to change the conversation. "How are you guys gonna handle dinner tonight?"

Our family wasn't big on Thanksgiving, which was understandable given the origins of said holiday and Gigi's love of history. Normally, every Thanksgiving, we would listen to a rant about how Gigi couldn't stand English pilgrims for what they did. Then, the conversation would trail on and on, leading into a man who Gigi would love to deck.

Normally, I'd take one for the team and either have Gigi rant exclusively to me to give everyone a break or attempt to change the topic of discussion.

"Without you? Lord help us," Mom laughed.

"Be careful when it gets to he-who-shall-not-be-named," I joked.

Jace turned to me with a confused expression. "Voldemort?"

I shook my head. "Christopher Columbus. If there's one time of the year Mom emphasizes being half-Indonesian and of Arab-descent on her Spanish side, it's Thanksgiving or Columbus Day. But, don't ever say the words 'Columbus Day' in Gigi's presence."

"There's no one your sister would like to punch more than that douche," Dad added. Even after all this time, it was weird hearing him refer to Gigi as Jace's sister. "By the way, did you pay the fine, Bear?"

"Yeah, I wrote a thousand dollar check last week."

"Thousand dollars?" Jace all but yelled.

"Five-hundred for me and five-hundred for you," I deadpanned. "Basic math, Jace."

He shot me a glare. "Alex never told me the fine applied to me too... I was just shocked."

"Family always pays, and as long as you're married to me, you're family," I replied casually, not missing the way his eyes warmed slightly.

"God bless you," Dad scoffed. Mom and I both laughed at that.

Someone bless us all.

♕♕♕

"Pull over," I announced when a familiar floral shop came into view.

Jace obliged, but still shot me a questioning look. "Why?"

"You made my mom a cake," I replied. "Now, I don't have any intention of killing your mom, so it's best that I don't attempt to cook anything for her, but I can't exactly go to your house empty-handed, so flowers it is."

"You know... you could've just said 'I want to buy flowers' and I would've been fine," he snarked.

"Why would I when my long answers bother you so much?" I smiled, getting out of the car when Jace finished parking.

The words written in script were taunting me the second my eyes laid on them.

The Bloom Room.

Even though I only came here twice a year, I was one of their best customers considering how I ordered fresh flowers to be sent to him every month. I paid extra for the special delivery, even though I knew Fiona didn't mind.

The older lady used to love when we came by or when he would pick up flowers for me before any special occasion.

I used to get mad at him for wasting so much money, but he would just look me in the eyes and tell me how he'd gladly spend all his money to see the way my eyes lit up when he held out a fresh bouquet.

With Jace trailing beside me, I entered, sucking in a deep breath.

"Kim!" The familiar voice rang out, bringing a smile to my face. "I wasn't expecting you for another few months. How are you, honey?"

"I'm doing well, Fiona," I replied, still smiling. "How's your dad?"

"The old grump's still holding on," she laughed. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm getting a bouquet for my... mother-in-law." The words felt weird coming out of my mouth, and given the strange look on her face, she forgot about the wedding too.

Suddenly, she snapped out of it. "Right! I'm sorry. I know I did the floral arrangements for your wedding, but I guess it slipped my mind. I just never thought..." She trailed off before realizing who she was talking to. "Congratulations to you both though! You look absolutely beautiful together."

Jace looked between the two of us with a calculating expression. One that let me know he'd be asking about this eventually. All I knew is that I'd need a drink for that conversation.

"Thank you," I replied when Jace didn't say anything. "So... the bouquet."

"Yes," she snapped into business mode. "Are there any particular flowers you'd like?"

Normally, I'd ask for whatever looks pretty. But, Camelia has been giving me more and more lessons about flowers and their different meanings. I never theoretically asked for lessons, but Camelia offered and I couldn't find it in me to refuse.

At the time, her Japanese lessons and my sporadic flower lessons took my mind off the overdose occasionally.

"Yeah... I was thinking light-blue delphiniums, bluebells, alyssums, and bluestars," I listed off.

"Sounds amazing! I'll get your bouquet right out!"

With that, she hurried off in the backroom to get started on the bouquet.

Jace cleared his throat, startling me for a second. "Those are some very specific flowers."

Thank God he didn't ask about the awkward exchange.

"Cam's been teaching me about flowers." I shrugged. "I wanted to get your mom something meaningful."

"What do they mean?" he asked.

"Light-blue delphiniums represent youth and renewal. Oh! They're also the birth flowers of July and since your birthday is in July, I figured she'd like that. Bluebells show that you're grateful for someone's friendship or support. Alyssums repel negative emotions, and bluestars mean that you admire someone's strength and endurance," I listed off again on my fingers.

"Wow."

"I know. I thought a lot about it."

"Yeah," his voice came out scratchy, as if he didn't just clear his throat.

Thankfully, the awkwardness was saved by Fiona returning with the beautiful arrangement of blues, purples, whites, and greens. I thanked her for the bouquet and paid for it, leaving a generous tip.

Jace said nothing as we made our way back to the car and continued on with the ride.

I was on my phone, texting the group chat I had with Vivi and Ash, wishing them good luck tonight. I mentally reminded myself that I should go back to the apartment soon and pick up more clothes and shoes. For the last few weeks, Vivi has been pretty MIA and I rarely got to see her as much as I used to.

It sent a sharp pain in my heart.

The thought of growing up is painful. When you go from seeing the people you love everyday to seeing them once in a blue moon. Was it wrong for me to not want to let anyone go? Was it wrong for me to want to hold on to the only good things left in my life?

Pretty soon, Jace would be out of my life too and where would I be?

Alone, miserable, and probably back on drugs.

I didn't want it like that, but I also didn't want to burden anyone else.

I had nothing good going for me, and something in me was so damaged that I wouldn't let anything good happen to me. What a fucking tragedy.

Tears pricked at my eyes as warmth invaded my nose. Before the tears could fall out, a hand engulfed mine and pulled it to the center console wordlessly.

"I didn't know your mom was half-Indonesian," Jace suddenly stated. I silently thanked him for preventing the tears that would have me showing up to his mom's house like a raccoon.

I nodded. "Yeah, Dad hired a private investigator for Mom ages ago. She found out that her father was Indonesian and met her mother when he was living in Spain. The two of them never got married and he wasn't on her birth certificate. Apparently, he knew about her, but thought she died during childbirth."

"Do you have a good relationship with him?" Jace hesitated with his question.

"No," I replied. "He had a heart condition when my mom met him. He died a few years after that. Mom said he was a nice man and was very kind to her in the last few years of his life, so that's all that matters."

Jace only hummed in response.

"Who's gonna be there tonight?" I asked, tracing the veins on his hand with mine.

"You, me, Mom, Emre, his mom, his youngest two sisters, and one of his older sisters is coming with her two kids," he replied. "Her husband's in the military, so he couldn't be home in time for Thanksgiving. And, his other two sisters are with their husbands' families. Van would've joined us, but she went back to Hawaii last night."

"What about Emre's father?" Now that I thought about it, I don't ever recall either of them mentioning his father. From what I recall, Emre only ever mentioned his five sisters and mom.

"He's an ass," Jace answered, his hand tightening around mine. "I wouldn't recommend bringing him up. They got divorced when the youngest girl was three."

I nodded. "What are their names? I'm pretty sure Emre didn't say anything about our marriage being fake, so it's better to play it safe and act like I know shit."

"First off, our marriage isn't fake," Jace sternly replied. "It's simply arranged. But Emre's mom is Mevkibe. His youngest sister, Azra, is fifteen. The other younger sister, Leyla, is twenty. The older sister is thirty and her name is Aleyna. Her two kids are Aydin, who's five, and Defne, who's three. The other two older sisters are Sanem and Miray."

"Got it." I swiftly nodded. "They have such beautiful names. I'm jealous."

"What? You don't like Kimberly?"

"Uh," I trailed off. "It's not that I don't like it. I just wish Mom gave me a more... flavorful name. I mean I have a pretty good mix of ethnicities in me, so I would've appreciated a little more umph in my name. The only reason Mom named me Kimberly is because Grams was on her ass about it."

"Don't remind me of her," Jace snorted, taking a brief second to glance in my direction. "Is it that bad between your mom and her?"

"Yep," I replied, popping the p. "Grams wanted Dad to marry someone from the same social circle. Mom didn't match the vision she had for the future, so Grams hated her even though Dad loves Mom. I'd like to think that if I had kids one day, I'd prioritize their happiness over everything... and give them nice names."

"Is that something you want?"

"What?"

"Kids?"

The question took me back to a lost memory. He and I were laying in his hospital bed, thinking about the future. We had the number of kids we wanted planned out, where we were going to live, what their names would be...

Today was harder than most days. My usual tactic of using alcohol to forget wasn't currently an option, so all I was doing was remembering.

"Once upon a time, it was." I smiled wistfully at him before turning my attention out the window so he couldn't see the tears make a reappearance.

Jace stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking again. "I have a question."

"You seem to be full of those lately," I joked, yelping when he pinched the exposed skin of my thigh.

"I'm taking a leaf out of your book," he snarked. "But what's with those nicknames your parents gave you?"

I laughed, internally relieved that he still didn't ask about the events at the floral shop. "Well, Dad calls me 'bear' because I apparently couldn't say Kim-ber-ly when I was younger and would call myself Kim-bear-ly."

"How is 'bear' easier than 'ber'?" he questioned incredulously.

"Don't question three-year-old Kimberly," I admonished. "She makes less sense than present-day Kimberly. Anyway, Mom calls me 'chiquitita' because I was obsessed with the ABBA song when I was a baby. I couldn't sleep without the song, so the nickname stuck. Normally, she calls me nena, but on special occasions or when she's feeling extra lovey, she'll call me chiquitita. What about you?"

"You already know that Ma calls me caro, most of the time. The remainder is a mixture of Jace, idiot, or stupid."

"A more censored version of my nicknames for you, jackass," I teased.