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“She wants what? Does she think you’re going to go back on your promises? She doesn’t need your money; her family is as loaded as yours. And what goddamn requests? You owe her nothing until that baby comes, then she’s nothing to you; your relationship will be with the kid, not her!” I snap, my rage getting the better of me as the rush of negative emotions fuels my outpouring. Sitting up quickly, my insecurity and jealousy show their faces in unison. He leans forward, grasps my arms, and pulls me toward him. Holding me gently, his hand strokes my cheek softly to calm me.
“She thinks I won’t commit to the classes and being at the birth because I now have a vested interest elsewhere … you. She’s also now demanding that you not be included in the trips to LA or my relationship with the kid. That after the birth, you can’t have anything to do with the baby unless I marry you,” he says hurriedly, an edge to his tone as he rushes to get it out.
I gasp in shock, confusion crushing me.
What? She’s threatened by me? She’s trying to drive a wedge between us in the only way she can.
Obviously, she’s still in love with Jake, and this is her biggest weapon. She will use his child as a pawn to maneuver him to meet her demands and try to tear us apart in the process.
“You’re going to agree?” I snap in anger, his hands tightening on me as stinging tears gather in the back of my eyes.
“No! Why would you think that?” He frowns. “She can’t dictate who I take with me on my own fucking plane to LA or who stays in the hotel with me. She doesn’t own me; she’s not my goddamn wife. Once that kid arrives, if she wants me to have access, she’ll need to get used to the fact that you’ll be there, whether we’re married or not.” He gets up, lets me go, and paces back and forth in agitation. “She doesn’t need money, but I’m giving her money for our child … not for her. Marissa is manipulative; it’s a fucking gift of hers. By throwing in that jibe about marriage, she thinks I’ll run for the hills because she thinks I’m a commitment-phobe,” he sneers, “She has no idea how different things are with you. If I need to marry you to let you see my kid, I’ll marry you tomorrow because I’ll marry you anyway. Now or in the future, Emma, you’re going to be my wife.” He storms around, letting his infamous temper rip, and I gawp at him, stupefied.
My voice catches in my lungs, and I can’t formulate a reply; I stare at him in open-mouthed silence, inner tingles washing over me like hot sauce. Jake’s never mentioned marriage before; I know he loves me, but part of me still finds it hard to believe he loves me as much as this.
“You do want to marry me one day, right?” He asks, halting his pacing, suddenly sounding so young and unsure. My silence must be making him think I’m freaking out in a bad way. I guess a small part of me is, but mostly I’m shocked into silence. He moves closer, panicking and doubting that he’s said something he shouldn’t have. I reach out for him, and he follows, wrapping himself in my arms.
“I just didn’t think you would want that with me,” I mumble, the tears stinging my eyes for a different reason now, and I sniff.
“Why wouldn’t I? You know how I feel about you; I’ve told you enough times.” His face comes to mine. His hand clasps my chin and tugs it up, forcing my eyes to meet his.
“It’s just … I’m broken. You can have any woman you want, so why would you choose to marry someone as messed up as me?” It’s the first time I’ve ever verbalized some of my insecurities and anxieties to Jake. I’ve always hidden it because it’s such an ugly way to think, and I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic. He seems taken aback and stares at me with furrowed brows.
“Is this what goes on inside that head of yours? Is this how you think?” He seems genuinely surprised. I close my eyes and nod. It’s painful to even admit this to him, this inner voice that’s always with me, always doubting my worth, always hiding in the recesses of my brain in the parts I would never let anyone see. Suddenly his mouth is against mine, his kiss forcing me to respond; his hands come up to cup my face and hold me close. I return the softness, parting my lips, sagging against him as our tongues meet, gently caressing. He kisses me until I’m panting, then pulls away.
“You’re not broken. You’re just scarred. You’re the only woman I ever want! Even if you left me tomorrow, I wouldn’t move on. Even when I thought I could never have you, I just couldn’t get over you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Everything reminded me of you,” he says, “Tell me what I need to do to make you feel secure, Bella, to believe me. I’ll do whatever it takes to remove those doubts from that beautiful little head.” His gaze is so intent on mine that I feel he’s trying to dig deep within my soul to figure out why I would think this way. He has no clue of the depths of insecurity I have inside me, the depths of self-doubt and lack of worth. I’ve always hidden them so deeply behind my mask that no one knows, not even Sarah.
“Everything you’re doing already,” I finally respond softly, “Little by little, it helps.” I don’t know what else he could do to make me believe I mean as much to him as he does to me.
“Non-avete idea di quanto ti amo, Bambina,” he mutters, his eyes focused on mine, slipping into his second language because he’s emotional. I giggle and raise an eyebrow.
“What?” I gaze at him indulgently as he breaks into a smile and looks down at our hands clasped between us.
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