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I wake up and try to stretch out, but I’m restricted by Jake’s heavy body wrapped around me like always. If I have one complaint about my lover, it’s this constricted way of sleeping. With much limb-twisting, he manages to get as much skin-on-skin contact as possible and somehow maneuvers me into positions while I’m unconscious that defy the human body’s ability to bend.
I slide a leg out from between his, rotating my foot to get some feeling back and attempt to retrieve an arm that has gone to sleep pressed under his weight. He is impossible to get loose from in bed; the second I move free, he reaches out and re-curls himself into me, pulling my limbs into the position he wants. He’s sleeping heavily. I can tell by his deep, even breaths, so by moving slowly, I finally manage to get myself loose with some effort.
Sitting up beside him, I gently stroke his cheek with a smile on my face. His sleeping habits are more like an insecure child longing for cuddles than the confident awake Carrero, just another layer to my fascinating man that endears him to me.
I quickly get up, find a robe, and head to the upper deck for air. The air is cool and refreshing after his stifling body temperature. It’s dark, but the horizon has hints of color, as though sunrise is not far away.
I was dreaming about my mother again; lately, she’s been plaguing my thoughts. I don’t know if it’s because of Jake being in my life this way that I somehow feel obliged to tell her or if it’s just being with him which has started to make me think differently about my decision not to see her again. She is still my mother, and being with Jake has made me understand what she’s always been searching for but never found, which, in a way, is sad: that one guy who can bring such happiness to her life, the way Jake has to mine. This thought gives me some remorse about my decision now.
Is it wrong to want to find love? To be so desperate for it that you ignore all the bad, try not to see it.
There’s no denying Jake has changed me in so many ways; he’s brought that cold, ice-queen PA back in touch with her emotions and feelings. I could never have imagined coming back to myself like that and having my thinking changed completely.
I’ve seen my mother in a different light now and, in such a short time, have even returned to feeling some forgiveness toward her. Maybe it’s because Jake told me about my father and, somehow, it’s made my mother more appealing to me. Despite her flaws, she kept me, raised me, and I know she loves me in her own way. No amount of money in the world would have made her walk away, even when she chose her lovers over me. Ultimately, I left, and she never tired of asking me to return to Chicago.
I breathe in slowly and deeply, finally cool enough to go back below deck, tiredness fogging out the thoughts which woke me. The call of his body lures me back to lie beside him, as though I might start to fade at his lack of presence. I am a butterfly who needs the sun to fly; he is that light for me.
I climb back in bed slowly; he’s shifted in his sleep and rolled onto his back, so it’s easier for me to lie beside him. As I lay my head on his chest, his arm automatically comes around me, pulling me tight against him, his chin coming to my head. He makes me smile; even asleep, he somehow has this sixth sense that I’m here. I wrap my arm around his ribs and close my eyes, trying to push my mother out of my mind’s eye for the time being.
“I’m awake, baby.” His voice startles me. “I woke up and figured you needed some ‘you’ time. I always wake up when you leave me.” I sense his smile against my hair, hearing the irony of his sentence. He told me my going away had been a huge wake-up call to how much he needed me. I shake my head at his cheesiness and throw a light kiss on his broad chest.
“I was thinking about my mother; I guess I’d been dreaming about her,” I shrug nonchalantly and sigh.
“Are you thinking you maybe want to see her?” he asks cautiously, treading lightly. He’s still unsure how to deal with the subject of my mother. As far as I know, he thinks I should have a relationship with her because she gave birth to me. I’ve always known he had mixed feelings about the woman who let me be subjected to so much in my youth, but his close relationship with his mother has made him ignore my problems with mine.
“I don’t know anymore,” I exhale heavily. “Part of me never wants to see her again, then part of me feels like I’ve so much more to say to her.” His other arm envelopes me in a tighter hug, cradling me.
“She’s still your mamma. I think you’ll always regret not trying to talk to her again. If you want to see her, I’ll come with you … for moral support.” His hand moves up to my hair and begins caressing my scalp gently.
“I think I’d like that,” I mutter softly, closing my eyes and listening to the steady beat of his heart in his chest, lulling me back to calmness. I think about the fact that old Emma never wanted Jake near her mother or to know anything about her past, yet here we are, and I’m happy to have him with me.
His chest rises and falls a little more quickly, and his arm tenses a bit, making me notice his sudden change in demeanor. Aware of how in tune I’ve become with him, I suddenly open my eyes as he seems hesitant.
Does he maybe not want to come to Chicago?
“What is it?” I ask bluntly, as I too tense, alerted, sensing something is off. He sighs heavily, as though he’s just been busted, and stiffens all over.
“I had a message on my phone when I woke up.” He sighs again. “We might need to cut this trip short, dolcezza.” He lets go of me and slides out of bed, reaching for his jeans and pulling them on before sitting back beside me. As he takes my hand, I can see his face in the moonlight coming in the uncovered portholes. I’ve learned that he’ll always get up and pull pants on when he thinks an argument is likely. It amuses me as somewhere in my head. I wonder if he’s protecting his tackle in case things get frisky. Maybe he thinks I’ll go in for the kill below the waist in anger. It only makes me anxious now, knowing he believes a fight is brewing.
“Why? What is it?” I stutter in confusion, and my heart beats a little harder.
“Marissa. She’s demanding that we sit down with lawyers; she wants our agreements in writing, a contract, so to speak. And my father is pushing for it like crazy, too. She also wants to talk about money and some of her other requests. If I ignore her, she’ll only keep hounding me and ruin our time here.” The tightness in his voice makes my skin prickle, and irritation ignites as the green-eyed monster in me kicks out.
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