CHAPTER85
I spend the meeting the next day wearing Jake’s sunglasses and nursing a hangover. My eyes are puffy and sore, and my head’s banging.
He put me to bed last night and left me alone until our first meeting this morning; he didn’t even push at me to eat breakfast or jog with him for a change. I know he’s walking on eggshells, waiting to see how I am. He’s giving me space, or maybe he’s just looking at me and thinking I’m probably mentally broken and could fall apart any day now, so he should handle with care.
I’m in ‘cold and grumpy’ mode and I’m really excelling at it, covering my inner turmoil and regrets. So far, I think I’ve snapped at every person I’ve met, in triplicate. In the past, Jake has met my PMS face, which I have with a vengeance, but I may even be surpassing myself now. He has said nothing about my mood, no funny comments or sarcastic telling off’s; he just frowns at me. He’s tugged my hand out of my hair repeatedly; I wore it down because I couldn’t bear to stand there doing it up this morning, and I’ve finally decided it’s going to get cut short. So, I’m done with all the fussing and styling.
Jake is being unusually patient and steady, despite my endless raised eyebrows and cool glares. I think he’s allowing me to behave badly because he feels responsible for getting me drunk and urging some shocking truths from me, guilty that I’m suffering a headache at his request and alcohol-fueling.
I’m angry at him today, angry at everyone. I’m not sure if it’s because I feel rough or because I had some sort of emotional breakdown which dredged the past up to the surface for me. Either way, a bear with a sore head hasn’t anything on my mood, and the day is dragging endlessly.
The flight back to New York isn’t as bad; I sleep a lot and feel better for it. I sit in one of the rear seats, away from Jake, amazed that for the first time in my life I manage to get any sleep on a flight. I guess a hangover really is a cure for a fear of flying. Or maybe I’m finally learning to trust his pilot.
I have my own space to just get a grip on myself. I thought things would be awkward with him after I let all that horrendous crap slip out in the car, but he seems the same; if anything, he seems more normal than normal. Effortlessly Jake.
Finally, I wake and move to a seat beside him, sliding in easily and meeting his charming smile with my own. Within moments, I’m staring out onto the clouds in the beautiful blue sky while Jake has papers in front of him with his cell on top.
“Emma, for the love of God,” he says. I flick my eyes back up, confused, and frown as he tugs my fingers out of my hair again. I roll my eyes, both at him and myself. I’ve literally given up trying to counteract this annoying habit when it surfaces; half the time I am oblivious to it. “I swear, I’m going to insist on tying that back up,” he says in a snarky way. Whatever has transpired while I slept has him in a grumpy mood.
“So, first you get on at me to wear it down all the time, and now you want it tied back up?” I pout, a little annoyed at his new mood.
“I didn’t think you would pull and twirl your hair like a child every time you got stressed.” He tenses his shoulders and moves in his seat a little. He looks agitated, hands raking over the papers he’s dropped in his lap. A quick glance shows it’s a contract that has been causing problems lately.
“Maybe it’s endearing to your clients. And I’m not stressed,” I lie. Lately my head never stops obsessing: over how Sophie is getting on, whether my mother is home yet, and whether Ray has crawled back into a dark hole after Jake’s beating. Stressed would be an understatement, and probably the cause of the hair twirling. He gives me a strange look and frowns.
“I don’t care if my PA is endearing to my clients; I just want her to do the job I ask of her,” he sighs. He’s on edge too, seeming distracted. Moody Carrero on full show.
“Which I do, hair twisting and all. Grumpy!” I huff too, and he looks at me for a moment, a brief flicker across his face as he gives up this pointless bickering. We’re both so touchy today it seems. No idea where his bad mood came from, possibly a delayed hangover, if he even ever got one.
“Have you got any info on this dance my father has conned us into? He’s eternally pimping me out to yet another glitzy affair,” he says instead, softening his frown. I slide the file out of my bag and give it to him, glad for the change of topic.
The event is a dance and auction for some charity. We received his father’s request that we should make an appearance at this event just as we were heading to Vegas and luckily, I managed to print off the details before getting on the plane. It’s not unlike Senior to make such requests.
Jake flips through the file, and I go back to gazing out at the clouds floating by. I feel his eyes on me and I realize I’m doing it again; I release my hair and tuck my hand under the side of my leg. I can’t help it. Everything that’s happened in under a week has me on edge, even when I’m not thinking of anything. I’ve been uptight constantly. I seem to be unable to stop fidgeting lately. I can’t even begin to trace back to when it started again, the subtle and mild fidgeting. I’m sure he started chastising me after …
The kiss, in the kitchen. I gulp.
“We may have to get really drunk to get through this one,” he sighs dramatically and slaps the papers down on the table.
“I think we should give the booze a rest for tonight. I don’t think my poor body can handle a new hangover when it’s still suffering with one,” I grimace.
“Never heard of ‘hair of the dog’, tiny?” Jake smiles at me. “Drink to kill a hangover and worry about it later.”
“Is that a Jake Carrero hangover cure?” I roll my eyes.
“Tried and tested. I’ll happily let you try it.”
“I’ll pass. I don’t want to spend my first weekend off dying in bed, thank you very much.”
“You can stay in my bed and I promise I’ll distract you from any nasty hangovers. Second tried and tested method is to sweat it out with some vigorous acrobatics.” He winks at me with a cheeky grin and gets another heavy sigh in response as I battle the urge to laugh. Jake never tires of the sexual references. I wonder if I’ll ever tire of laughing at them. If it was anyone else, I don’t think I would find them funny at all, or harmless, but with him they don’t mean anything."
