136
Less than an hour later, we’re boarding Jake’s private jet at the airport with all our bags in tow. This has happened so fast that I’ve barely had time to think, let alone breathe. I feel like I’m running away from work, life, and everything and taking a time-out in some fantasy romance novel with a millionaire who can pull strings like no one else. Since we used to take business trips at the drop of a hat, I should be used to this side of him, and to him, this is no different. To me, though, this is craziness. My whole world has been upended overnight.
Jake pulls me up the steps and into the jet with him. There’s a sense of familiarity that feels so good. I missed this plane; I missed everything that was a part of him, of being with him. I missed our trips together.
He guides me to a window seat and slides in next to me, laying a hand on my lap with a smile and another kiss. Jake’s constant kissing is starting to be my normal, but it still catches me by surprise how demonstrative he can be; I’ll never tire of it. With the hugging, hand-holding, affectionate gestures, and constant verbal praise, I never imagined he would be this way. I never saw it with any of the women he hauled along or went out with; they were the ones who always clung to him, pushed him for a kiss, or grabbed his hand to hold, always trying to get affection from him. He always seemed aloof and overly polite with them.
He shifts in his seat to retrieve his phone from his pocket and looks down at the vibrating gadget; a frown of frustration crosses his face. He glances at me with a fleeting moment of doubt, then answers hesitantly.
“Marissa. How can I help you?” he sounds tense and glances my way warily, obviously watching for my reaction.
My stomach drops, and I turn away to look out the window, biting my lip in vain. I won’t let him see me upset over this. She had to surface at some point; I couldn’t go on pretending she didn’t exist. His hand finds mine on my lap and pulls it back to him, entwining our fingers gently and giving me much-needed attention and reassurance.
My caring boyfriend.
Who knew that Casanova Carrero could be this attentive? So in tune with me that he knows when I need his touch.
“I won’t be here for the next couple of weeks, so that will be a no.” He seems irritated. I try not to listen and lean my face against the window instead, concentrating on watching the airfield while the crew load our luggage and get ready to take off. The door is still open, and I am urged to get up and go outside until he’s off the phone.
“Look, I told you … No, I did … I’ll be there at the end of the month … You’re the one who doesn’t want me at the other appointments … Because I’m not coming to see you. There’s no reason to come more often,” he snaps. “OK, Marissa, I need to go … I’m taking my girlfriend on a break … Emma! Fuck off, Marissa. Just hang up before you say something you’ll regret.” He disconnects angrily and throws his phone across the aisle at another seat with surprising accuracy; his fiery temper has seen many cells hurled this way. He turns to me and tugs my hand, so I glance at him. Seeing how worried he looks when I face him melts some of my iciness.
“I’m sorry, Bambina. I didn’t expect her to call.” He leans down and rubs his nose against mine, catching my chin with his hand and tugging my mouth open so he can kiss me tenderly. Trying to forget my annoyance, I respond to his touch. As I hear the thud of the door being shut, I pull back to look past him; we’ll be taking off soon, so I move to fasten my seatbelt.
“You don’t want to talk about this?” he asks warily, watching me, but I shrug and tend to my belt.
What is there to talk about? I don’t want there to even be a situation with Marissa, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
“What’s there to say?” I finally answer because his eyes are boring into me, and he hasn’t moved.
“You haven’t even asked for updates, like what’s expected of me before the baby comes.” He’s walking on eggshells, trying to gauge my reaction, and I look away as the tears rise inside of me. I don’t think I’ll ever feel able to talk about this.
“What is happening?” I mutter softly, only because I feel he wants me to. He senses my distance and sits back; he knows Emma is in closed-down mode and knows when to step back a little. I may be improved Emma nowadays, but it’s early days and so easy to revert. Jake seems to be in a new and improved mode too, though, and instead of old Jake pushing me for answers, he’s being gentle.
“I need to fly to LA once a month and attend antenatal classes with her as she wants me at the birth.” He shifts, creaking the seat with his weight and turns toward me to better watch my profile. I stare out the window, trying to detach myself from this conversation, distancing myself from the pain clawing up inside me and strangling my soul. “She doesn’t want me at medical appointments, scans, et cetera, just the classes. Every four weeks for the next six months, then every two weeks until the baby comes.”
“LA?” I repeat in surprise as his words sink in. Last I knew, Marissa lived in New York. Location seems like a safe topic, but also one that annoys me. He’ll have to go there once a month to see her.
“Yeah, she headed out there after we came back. She’s got a condo there. It means I’ll need to stay over one night for the class and fly home the next day.” He glances down at my hand and sees I’ve loosened my grip on his; I hadn’t even realized I’d done it. He gently drops my hand and slides an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward him. “Talk to me,” he pleads a little desperately.
“I am …” I start, but his look with furrowed brows stops me, and I swallow down the pain.
“You’re just asking questions, not telling me what you’re thinking, Bambina,” he chides softly. “I want to know how all of this is making you feel. I want to know if my going to see her will upset you,” he sighs. “You’ve never told me how you feel about there even being a baby.”
I turn my face away and hold down everything because talking about this is too hard.
If I tell him how I feel, what then? It’s not exactly good. And then he’ll know how much I hate this.
All I can manage is a shrug, the words too painful to spit out, but he sighs and squeezes me a little tighter.
“You know the old me would have been pissed at this, you going silent and brushing it off, acting like you’re bored and don’t care. I now realize that this version of you is when you’re hurting the most, dolcezza. You don’t need to say it, Emma; it’s pretty clear you’re distraught over this whole situation. It’s okay not to be fine with this. I’m not fine with it either.”
He pulls me tighter, his mouth coming to my temple and pressing softly, exhaling warm air across my skin soothingly.
I’m devastated. I’m beyond ‘not fine.’ She’s the thorn in my happily-ever-after who ruins everything.
“This is the last thing I ever wanted,” he says. “I want you and just to have us and a clear future. This shit with Marissa complicates things, but all I can do is try to do the right thing while at the same time trying to make you feel better about it.” His nose brushes the side of my face as he gently kisses my temple again. I relax slightly, his touch soothing me as always, even when my heart is shredding.
“I hate it,” I utter softly, finally, “I hate her.” The tears fill my eyes bitterly, and he turns my face to him by holding my chin, coming close enough to inhale me.
“You’ll never have anything to be worried about when it comes to her. I choose you; I’ll always choose you. She’s my past. I’m only putting up with her for the sake of this kid. If I had my choice, she would be nothing in my life. Our life,” he soothes me huskily.
“Why did you even go back to her?” I search his face imploringly. I’ve never understood it. He told me it was a drunken mistake, but I know how safety-conscious he is when it comes to sex; he always carries protection. I’d ordered him bulk amounts to his apartment in the past. He also had his heart broken by this woman when he was a teenager and spent years afterward unable to commit to any girl because of her. It makes no sense to me that he would be able to spend just one night with her.
“Honestly? I don’t even remember it. I’m not saying that to make you feel better. I’m serious. I went to a party with Daniel and some other guys I know, and I was already far too drunk. I don’t even remember seeing her there, but I woke up in a strange bed beside her. I left. She hounded me for days after, and I told her to forget it.” He shrugs, sighs, and holds me firmly. I should have known his rich, party-wild, idiot best friend would have been involved in him getting so drunk he couldn’t see straight.
“You don’t remember any of it at all?” I question dubiously. I’ve seen Jake really drunk, and he always seemed to remember most of his nights, regardless.
“Seriously, Emma. I swear. You’ve never seen me as drunk as I can get. The last thing I remember is downing shots with Daniel, then waking up feeling like an elephant had stomped on my head. And there she was, lying beside me. I felt like an idiot and got out of there as quickly as possible. I didn’t even wake her to say bye!” His frown deepens as he tries to keep my eyes on his.
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