Author's Note: I'm really sorry for the delay in updates, but life has been flying by. With school and friends and drama I never wanted to be in the middle of, it's been a lot to deal with. But I do love writing, especially fanfiction, so here we are, back in business.
Clary
I go up to my room, feeling stupid and like a silly little girl. Celine wouldn't just mess with me like that, so maybe she just misread the situation. But, Jace was her son, and she always knew him like the back of her hand.
I guess this was payback for the obvious heartache I put Jace through. Will had been oh, so gracious as to give me an idea as to how many holes Jace put in walls and bottles of liquor he had emptied. It made my heart ache. I trudge into my bathroom, thinking how awkward and painful breakfast will be as I run a bath. I left the hot water steam up the bathroom, adding lavender oils as I undress, needing to wash away today.
Gingerly, I stick my toes in the water, sighing at the feel and gradually slide all the way in, letting the soft bubbles reach up to my neck. I'm almost relaxed to the point of dozing off when I hear a knock on the door. I freeze in the water and wait for any other sounds. A few seconds later, another knock comes and a whisper of my name. I sit in my bubbles and refuse to answer, especially in my state of undress. He knocks and knocks, the sounds becoming louder and more frantic. After a few minutes, Jace must have given up, because all sounds cease and his voice no longer calls my name.
I enjoy my bath as much as I can after that and then sit in the water until it goes cold. I step out of the tub and wrap myself in one of the fluffy snow white towels before opening the door. I nearly stumble over Jace's sleeping body. He had been leaning on the door, so now he was slumped on his side, still asleep. I change quickly into a light nightgown I had gotten with Tessa today, then go over to wake Jace up.
I shake his shoulder and whisper his name until he stirs. He looks up at me and reaches a hand out. I hastily stand and back away.
"You fell asleep, but now you can go," I tell him. I don't want to sound bitter and cold, but the pain in my chest makes it happen.
"Clary, please listen to me," he whispers, his body closing in on mine with each step he takes.
"About what? Ma misread the situation and I'm glad we got it cleared up. I'm tired and want to go to bed," I reply.
"So come on," he motions for me to follow him out and , most likely, to his room since that is where I have been sleeping.
"I meant in here Jace," I reply, moving to get into the covers.
"Okay," he shrugs, tugging his shirt off and dropping it to the floor, followed by his shoes and jeans. He slides into bed before I even can.
"You know what I mean," I sigh, refusing to get into bed with him.
"I do, but you have to listen to me, right now," he replies, sitting up against the headboard. I sigh in defeat and slide into the bed, perched on the edge as far from Jace as I can get.
He groans and wraps an arm around my waist before pulling me across the width of the mattress into his side.
"It wasn't a joke," he whispers into my hair.
I remain silent.
"I was just scared. When I started to feel the way I do about you, you left me. Then I was angry, which turned into numbness after a few years. But when I saw you in that coffee shop, the red hot sparks tore through me and I knew I couldn't let you go again," he told me.
"What are you saying?" I ask.
"That if what ma said was true, you know I'm irrefutably, heart throbbingly, gut wrenchingly in love with you and I have been since I was fifteen years old," he tells me, looking at me deep in the eyes, begging me to attempt to talk him out of it, knowing I would lose.
"Well, did she tell you that I am breath takingly, mind blowingly in love with you?" I ask, offering a small smile. He shakes his head.
"She did not, but I have a feeling it comes way better from you," then his lips cover mine in a warm kiss, a kiss full of promise and want that has been nurtured all these years. I feel hot tears roll down my cheeks at the intense feeling.
Jace pulls back when my salty tears hit our joined lips.
"Clary, baby, what's wrong?" he asks, pulling me into his chest.
"Why did I waste so much time?" I sob, my cheek slick against his wet chest, "I wasted years of my life on a boy I could never love the way I love you. I could have had you all this time, but I was so stupid," I blame myself. I blame myself for Jace's pain and now my own.
"Hey, you could have never known, okay? It doesn't matter where you've been, all that matters is where you are. You could have forgiven Simon and Izzy for what they did and stayed with him, but you left. You came to me, and you're here with me, which is what's important," he tells me, wiping away the tears that have slowed their flow.
"Please don't ever leave me," the words slip out before I can stop them.
"Never Clary, never again,"
Jace
Before I can suggest we go to my room, Clary falls asleep. This bed kills my back, so I carefully scoop her up and carry her into my room. I tuck us into the comforter and turn out the lights, relishing in the way her body instantly reaches out for mine. Her arms curl around my waist and her leg hitches itself onto my hip. I could never mind this.
Just as I'm about to drift off, Clary mumbles in a sleepy voice.
"Simon never let her do this. He said my feet were too cold and it made him uncomfortable," I'm not sure if she's awake or not as she says this, but it's all she says. Regardless, I respond.
"Well, I happen to love you being this close to me all night, and I will always warm up your cold feet," I respond, watching her lips tilt into a smile before I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my nose in her still damp hair.
Page Break (still Jace's P.O.V)
I wake up to a face full of red, silken curls. I forgot how curly Clary's hair got when left to do as it pleased. I smooth it back from her face to see her still serenely sleeping, her arms around my waist, leg unmoved. I hug her closer to me and breath in deeply, my mind just waking up and noticing the pale light coming in through the strip where the drapes meet.
I look over Clary's head at the alarm clock to see it's only seven. I just decide to spend the morning in bed with the girl I very much so love when I feel her stir and watch as her eyes flutter open.
"Good morning my dear," I coo at her squinty green eyes.
"Good morning Jacey-poo," she retorts as she stretches and moans, "I'm hungry," she says thoughtfully.
I laugh at how Clary can still act so normal after all she's been through this week and last night's admissions.
"I think I have some bacon and pancake mix," I say thoughtfully, knowing Clary's food love include maple syrup and bacon.
"Dear lord, you're a saint," she exclaims, squeezing my cheeks before shooting from my bed. She dashes into the bathroom as I lay amid the warm covers. I hear a shocked scream and laugh as I realize, she must have seen her hair.
"This is not good," she comes back into view, looking helpless as a mass of curls falls, as if on cue, into her eyes. I laugh heartily, as she glares at me, slinging it up into a bun before going to brush her teeth.
"I was thinking we could go to the art store, you know get you some canvas. I want Clary art around," I tell her, knowing that art was and still is Clary's escape. She peeks her head out a minute later and runs over. She jumps on the bed, landing on my legs and bounces excitedly.
"Oh, I haven't gone to the paint store in ages! My gallery has assistants that get me whatever I need, but I miss going myself," she says wistfully.
"Then to the art store we go, right after breakfast," I tell her. She gets a mischievous grin on her face.
"And after some of this," she mutters before leaning down to give me a good morning kiss.
"Yes, after much more of this," I reply, pulling her back in. She giggles against my lips before rolling of me and out of bed.
"I'm going to start breakfast," she tells me, disappearing into the hall. I fall back against the pillows and thank God, and ma, for making my lifelong dreams into a reality.
I roll out of bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and then head down to the kitchen. Clary is standing barefooted at the stove, her nightgown just brushing the tops of her thighs as she hums a soft and sweet tune.
Quietly, I pad over to her and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder as she pours the think batter into a buttered pan, bacon sizzling nearby.
"Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips in yours?" she asks as I notice the bowl of washed berries and package of chocolate on the counter.
"Chocolate," I hum into her neck. She tilts her head to grant me access as she reaches for the bag, pouring a good amount into her palm and sprinkling them over the soft batter.
We stand like this until the pancake is ready. I hesitantly move to grab a plate and the syrup, but stand by her side as she makes her own pancake.
"When did you become a more than cereal cook?" she teases.
"Hey, I could make mac and cheese and cereal," I rebut.
"My apologizes chef anything-from-a-box," Clary laughs.
"Well, when my little redhead stopped cooking for me,, claiming it she was a full blown feminist and I should be the one making her a sandwich, I had to survive somehow!" I retort, thinking of the summer conversation when we were only 14 years old.
"Oh, you poor thing," Clary jabs, tossing a blueberry at me. I catch it in my mouth and bite into the sweet skin.
"I watched a lot of YouTube videos and ma was ecstatic when I asked her to teach me," I remember fondly, as well as swearing her to secrecy from all my friends.
"Well, I'm glad you don't eat take out all the time, a chubby Jace was cute when we were three, but I have a feeling you'd cry if you lost an ab," she pokes me in my torso as she says this, moving past me to sit at the table.
"I was and always will be cute, sweetheart. I'm going to be a silver fox!" I exclaim, relishing in the full-belly laugh my silliness gets from Clary.
"For your sake, I hope," After that, we finish our breakfast talking about Clary's gallery and everything that I've missed since, you know. It stays rather light and sweet until Clary gets a phone call. She says it's a number she doesn't recognize, so she answers it.
I see her face go pale and then red with anger.
"I'm hanging up," she says, but something makes her pause. She collapses into her chair before hanging up anyways.
"Clary, what is it?" I ask, placing a hand over hers.
She looks at me as if she's in a daze, then her eyes form glistening tears and she whispers something I can't hear.
"What?" I inquire.
"Isabelle is pregnant,"