177
Silently, he helps me pack my things back into my bag. We had held each other in silence, just entwined, until the pilot called to inform us the jet would be ready for take-off by the time we got to the airfield. Jake watches me steadily but leaves me alone with my thoughts; he knows I won’t talk about this anymore. My wall is up on the matter, and I’m already filing it into the back of my head with all the other crap I never want to face. I won’t bring it up again, much like I never bring Marissa up. Now that he finally understands how I tick inside, he knows me well enough to leave it alone.
I feel like a complete failure. I’m numb from overthinking, from pushing it all back into the recess of my mind, back into that little black box with the rest of my heartache and terrors.
Back with the child who used to cry herself to sleep in fear of her bedroom door creaking open in the darkness.
* * *
As we settle into the plane, Jake looks me over thoughtfully and takes my hand into his. I’ve been quiet since we packed, left alone in my internal dialogue.
“Instead of going home, I want to take you someplace … After this, I think you need it.” He leans down and brushes his lips across mine, followed by his fingertips.
“I just want to go back to New York, Jake,” I sigh and close my eyes, willing this to be over and for us to be high above Chicago already. I need the miles between me and this wretched memory.
“It’s in New York … my parent's house in the Hamptons. I want to take you there for the rest of the weekend, dolcezza, to where I grew up.” He straps his seat belt on.
“I don’t know.” I look away out of the window, utterly deflated and exhausted. I want to close my eyes and go to sleep now. I want to wake up back home and act like none of this ever happened.
“Trust me, a change of scenery will do you good. My mother wants to meet you as my girl, not just as my PA. She’s been driving me mad with calls about bringing you home. The trip will make you feel a hundred times better, Bambina.” He flashes his charming smile at me, and I melt as he bends me to his will again with a smoldering look and a flash of pearly whites. I shake my head at him, a hint of a smile playing on my lips, and see the relief wash over his face.
“I already had the pilot plot the flight plan to the Hamptons,” he admits sheepishly. I bat at him with my hand, but he only catches it and kisses my fingertips.
“You’re the most overbearing man I’ve ever known,” I smile quietly at him.
“Who else would have the steel to break down the Emma walls?” he grins. “Or the determination?” Pulling my hand to his lap and wrapping both of his around it, he sits back, sliding down to get comfy, his strong, handsome profile looking mighty pleased with himself.
“I’m glad you did,” I whisper at him affectionately; my heart heals a little as he gives me his best ‘You’re welcome’ smile and a look that sends me into a frenzy of longing.
* * *
“Ahh, il Mio bel figlio è a casa e lui mi porta la sua Bella ragazza troppo,” Sylvana Carrero gushes at our arrival and sweeps Jake into a motherly hug. This isn’t the first time I’ve met the tall, lithe beauty of a woman, but it’s the first time I’ve met her in a non-professional capacity and at her own gorgeous home.
“Si guarda Bella, come sempre, Madre,” Jake responds before kissing her on the cheek and moving out of the way for her to wrap herself around me enthusiastically. I’m a little overwhelmed, but I hug her anyway. Jake has gotten me used to being manhandled so much of late that this kind of affection is welcome when it is from women.
“Emma, my darling girl, you look so different … Bellissima.” Sylvana has a strong Italian accent which is why Jake litters his English with Italian affection. Standing tall with dark hair and Jake’s green eyes, she looks like a woman in her early thirties, not my twenty-eight-year-old Adonis's mother, but more like a sister.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carrero. It’s a new dress.” I look down at the short, floaty, floral print dress I changed into at the airfield, a present from Jake via Donna.
“Please, call me Sylvana or even Mamma. And I mean everything—you look so soft and rosy-cheeked and glowy. Your hair is lovely this length too. It makes you appear ridiculously cute and young,” she grins, kissing both cheeks dramatically, and I blush at the attention.
“She is young and cute, Mamma,” Jake cuts in as he wraps an arm around me and squishes my cheeks together, so I pucker my mouth at him. “Crazily cute, so much so I sometimes just want to squeeze the life out of her.” His mother beams at us with unconcealed joy. I attempt to bat his hand off my face and am instead rewarded with a kiss on the nose before he lets me go.
“So, in love, chi l’avrebbe mai detto?” She pinches his cheek before heading to the kitchen with us in tow, across the grand marble hall and past a huge sweeping staircase. The house screams money.
She chatters to Jake about the others she has coming to stay this weekend. It seems Arrick and his newest love interest are to come, as well as Jake’s cousin, his wife, and a couple more extended family I’ve never met. I listen, fascinated by their rapport and the crazy similarities in how they look and move.
“Mamma, I brought Emma for a quiet weekend, not a family gathering. I want her to still be here by the time I’m ready to go.” he jokes and receives a pout from that beautiful mother of his, mock sadness on her unlined, timeless face. She’s breathtaking.
“Jacob, you know how much the family has been dying to meet the girl who finally reigned in the Stallone Italiano and tamed him,” she laughs, patting him on the cheek in a very motherly way.
“Promise me there are no parties, Mamma?” he groans, and she winks playfully at him. “I swear you’re killing my relationship before I even get a ring on her finger,” he scolds as I giggle at them, and she spins suddenly.
“So, there will be a ring on the finger, will there?” She hones in like a bloodhound, her eyes flashing merrily as she searches our faces a little too energetically. My stomach lurches with a familiar doubt.
“Eventually,” he smiles, pulling me in and kissing me quickly. “When I ask her.” He looks at me warily, and I bite my lip and hold my breath. We have barely covered this subject, and it is way too soon even to contemplate.
“And when will that be?” she pushes, and I can already see her calculating which part of the grounds would make a good wedding altar. My heart rate quickens in panic.
“When we feel like it,” he smirks and pulls me forward past her to the fridge. “What’s for eating, Madre? We’re starved.” He lets go of me, opens the huge built-in double fridge, and looks through the covered plates. He’s the master of misdirection, batting away any more wedding talk, and I sigh with relief. I haven’t even begun to analyze that yet.
“I’ve been cooking all morning. Go sit and I’ll bring you some pomodoro cremosa e gnocchi di spinaci, it’s delizioso,” she smiles. I know Jake’s mother loves to cook, he’s told me many times it’s her way to relax on the weekend, so I follow him eagerly to the next room to sit at the large oval table. After my lack of appetite in Chicago, I’m ravenous now.
* * *
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