This is the first time I've actually been inside Jack's house...sober, so I'm really able to take the interior in.

In the foyer, I'm greeted by a stunning console where a crystal vase of beautiful orchids is placed. The floors are made of this off-white marble and from the ceiling hangs this geometric chandelier. If this is only the beginning of the house, then I can't even begin to imagine what the rest looks like.

Jack gives me a tour, starting with the kitchen, which is made up of a marble countertop and gold accents. The only pop of color comes from the emerald cabinets. At the long kitchen island sits 4 barstool chairs, each with its own individual placemat. The dining room and living room are just as beautiful in their own luxuriously glamorous ways.

Jack holds my hand and leads me up the spiral staircase to his bedroom.

"No. Freakin'. Way," I say, immediately heading for the balcony window and holding the silver silk curtains back. I'm too mesmerized by the waterfront view to pay attention to anything else in this room right now. "This is what you get to wake up to every morning?"

He laughs and then says, "Wanna see the view from outside?"

I nod excitedly and he pushes the door open so that we can step onto the balcony, which overlooks the Long Island Sound. When I turn my head to the right, I spot the treehouse, and I'm reminded of the day that Jack first started to share a piece of himself with me.

"Wow. This is incredible." My eyes wander to the balcony furniture – specifically to the long brown leather notebook that lays on the small round table. "What's that?"

"Oh," Jack says, caught off-guard. He goes to pick it up and then says, "Nothing."

"Show me," I smile, but he hides it behind his waist. "Jack, c'mon, show me!"

I try to reach for it and eventually end up grabbing it from his grip, but only because he actually loosens it and lets me.

I eagerly open the notebook and start reading. And then I flip the page to more writing. And more writing. And more.

"Jack," I say, picking my head up, "this isn't a journal, it's a novel."

He rocks back and forth on his heels and gives me a humble smirk. "I know."

"You wrote a book?"

"Writing," he corrects me, " I'm writing a book."

"Oh my God, Jack. I mean, I picked up your love for reading when you kept stopping by the school library, but I didn't know that you write, too."

"No one does, really."

"Is it a new hobby?"

"Not really. I've always loved to write. It started out as something therapeutic, but now, I don't know...turned into something more, I guess."

"What are you writing about?"

He shakes his head playfully and gives me an adorable smile. "I can't tell you that right now. But you'll find out. Eventually."

"As long as you remember me when you're famous..." His smile sort of fades, so I ask, "This is something you're going to pursue, right?"

"Nah. I don't think so."

"But you want to?"

"I don't really think I'm allowed to want anything under my dad's roof...especially if it doesn't comply with his terms."

"But it's your future."

"He doesn't see it that way. He never will." I'm about to challenge his comment when he changes the subject. "Anway...what do you say to a morning swim?"

***

Jack's in the pool as I sit over the ledge with my feet dipped into the water and my palms pressed to the floor, behind my back.

"I can't believe you're not coming in," he says.

"I don't have a bathing suit, and if you think I'm stripping down to my bra and underwear, think again."

"Hey, your words, not mine," he says, holding his palms out in the air.

Jack swims to the ledge, where I'm sitting, and I can't help but just stare at how gorgeous he is. His hair is wet and away from his face so his features stand out even more than they normally do.

"Help me out?" he asks, reaching his hand to me.

I take it, but just as I'm about to pull my arm back, he pulls me in. My entire body submerges into the water and when I come up for air, I push my hair back.

"Jack, you did not just do that."

"I did," he smiles. "What are you going to do about it?"

I shake my head mischievously and then playfully pounce on him, dunking his head in the water.

We laugh and tease each other for a few seconds before I wrap my legs around his waist, and then he softly pushes us to the wall of the pool. His lips look extra luscious with the wetness and I'm the one to initiate our kiss next.

***

Jack starts opening every cabinet in the kitchen, so I squint my eyes at him. "Looking for something?"

"Yeah. Ingredients. We're making pancakes."

"You cook?" I ask, somewhat impressed.

"Uh, does grilled cheese count as cooking?"

"Yeah. If you made the bread from scratch," I tease.

"Definitely not. But how hard can pancakes be, right? You just dump the mix into a bowl and follow the instructions."

"How about I make the pancakes?"

"How about we compromise? You can be my sous chef."

"Fine," I smile.

Jack assembles all the ingredients and gets to work. I love the sight of him in the kitchen. It's very hot.

When he's not looking, I come up from behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, and rest my head against his shoulder. He turns his head and plants a kiss on the top of my head as my hands remain around him. For the first time in days, I feel happy. For the first time in a long time, I feel invincible.

"Should we play some tunes?" I ask.

"Sure. We have an Alexa, so just connect your phone to Bluetooth and it'll start playing."

"Nice," I say, scrolling through my Spotify and clicking on Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons.

"Okay, sous chef. I need you," Jack calls out, and I step beside him at the counter.

"What's up?"

"Blueberries or chocolate chips?"

"Chocolate chips. Not even a question."

Jack clutches my chin in between his fingers and then says, "That's what I was thinking."

We take our finished plates outside and sit at the table that's by the pool.

"So, where'd your parents go again?" I ask him.

"Miami. Our family friend's getting married there."

"And you didn't want to go?"

"I wasn't invited. And even if I was, I'd politely decline."

I drizzle some syrup onto the chocolate chip pancakes and then take a bite. "These are so good, Jack."

"Couldn't have done it without you," he says, reaching for my hand and bringing it to his lips, placing a kiss there.

Jack's cell phone rings and he picks it up to look at the screen. "Rafe," he explains. "Mind if I answer?"

"Not at all," I say, continuing to dig in.

We hear the doorbell ring, and Jack holds the phone back, whispering, "That's probably UPS. I'll be right back."

"It's okay. I got it," I say, standing up and making my way inside.

I skip through the halls until I get to the door and then turn the knob. Only it's not the UPS guy on the other side of it.

It's my dad.