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“Emma, I thought we were on the same page?” He snaps at me and stalks away, standing stiffly, his back turned. I can feel his rage, even from here, that fiery temper of his bubbling under the surface like molten lava and that pig-headed logic moving in.
“We are, Jake, but so much is new, so much we’re still getting used to … so much we haven’t even agreed on. It’s terrifying and so final,” I blurt out, eyes watering with unshed tears, my hands trembling.
“No, Emma, it’s not. If you love me, then it’s no different to staying with me in New York. It’s just a house.” He turns, flashing me with a cold green glare that does little to hide the tornado brewing inside of him.
“Don’t say it that way. I do love you!” I snap back, the urge to storm off in rage surging over me.
That’s right, Emma, you always run when you’re scared. You’re pathetic!
“Then what’s wrong with looking for a home we can make together?” He pleads, his voice laced with anger, but I can only shake my head.
“I’m not ready.” I almost cry, the panic gripping me inside like a vice of coldness. I can’t explain it. I only know that this is too much, too soon. A million thoughts are racing through my head, what-ifs, outcomes of things going wrong. Moving here, away from the city, away from the closeness and security of Sarah, it’s not a short drive away. It would take hours to get to her if I ever needed to try to leave. Everything chokes in my throat as it piles up, and I fear a panic attack is starting.
“So, if I hadn’t suggested a house but had proposed instead … would the answer have been no?” His eyes flare with rage and hurt, spitting the words at me accusingly, his Carrero ego well and truly bruised and seeing only what he wants to see.
“That’s not fair. It’s not the same thing,” I flail.
“It’s exactly the same fucking thing. Answer me … if I had asked you to marry me right now, what would it have been? Yes, or fucking no?” He moves toward me menacingly and grabs my arm in a biting embrace. I can’t answer, my throat closing in panic, unable to formulate a response that will satisfy him. It’s too soon, and I’m terrified; I wouldn’t say no. I love and want a life with him, but I can’t say yes when he’s asking me this way and being this way. I stay silent and grasp for words to come, panic all over my face under his intimidating glare.
“That speaks fucking volumes,” he grinds and storms off angrily toward the house, wearing his bruised feelings. I reach for him with a sob in my throat, unable to call out to him, but I can’t find the strength to move my legs. He throws me a hateful glare that catches in my lungs and almost slaps me into sense, my panic spiking into a rage instead.
So goddamn typical of him. It’s his way or no way, and he won’t entertain any defiance or wait to find out why I even feel this way. He doesn’t care that I’m freaking out about this, just doesn’t like the refusal, so he storms off, too used to getting his own way in everything. Screw you, Carrero.
Rage bubbles inside as I storm around.
I don’t want this; I don’t want the pressure of him buying me a house, playing happy families with all these people who matter so soon. Not yet, not when everything is still so new, and I still feel so insecure all the time. And what about work?
I know for a fact he won’t want me to fly to the city and take up my old position. He barely wants to go back himself lately, and moving here will make it final. The truth is that I thought my insecurities would change, that I would have some epiphany that I was finally with the man I would be with forever, and they would all go away. That I would be happy to be kept by him, but all the doubts, fears, and insecurities have remained. And I wonder if I am destined to be plagued with them forever and if Jake will tire of my insecurities and leave me.
My insecurities won’t allow me to think beyond right now, when Marissa’s baby comes, or think of Jake and me in any long-term sense. I can only think about the here and now, so sure that I will be tempting fate if I dare to hope for more than I’ve been given. I’m not used to happy-ever-afters, to people sticking around. Not even my own father saw a reason to stick around. Somewhere inside of me, I’ve convinced myself that Jake will never stay and that he will also walk away one day.
Jake’s obsession with always thinking ahead and trying to plan our forever is terrifying. He’s putting so much emphasis and hope on an imagined future with me without hesitation. It feels like a huge weight of responsibility. I’ve never been someone who thought of other people taking the lead in my life. All my careful plans and goals were self-oriented, leading to self-dependence and security without relying on others. Other people can hurt you, let you down, and walk away. Everyone is capable of it; everyone is capable of changing toward you, and Jake is no different. All along, a part of me has held her breath, waiting for that fateful moment when he realizes I’m not everything he wants in life, and he cuts me loose.
That’s why I can’t let him do this, can’t let him push me deeper into the ‘comfort and security’ of being his forever, to start building a home and a life so different from anything I have ever known, because I know, one day. He will tire of the broken little girl full of fears and anxiety when I am no longer so much fun or such a mystery. And then the devastation of so great a loss will end me. The loss of a life with him, with all of this, will kill me.
I take deep, steadying breaths to calm the manic panic inside my head and get my shit together. I need to stop rambling and focus. I need to pull it all in and calm the hell down.
Stop letting teen Emma control your thoughts.
I finally follow Jake’s route to the house, bypass everyone milling around in the family room, and go straight to our bedroom. Jake’s packing, and my stomach drops. His body is radiating aggression, his face dark. I stop by the door to watch him; I know he sees me. He pauses mid-stroke, throwing his clothes in the case, but then continues without turning my way.
Well, and truly pissed then.
“I guess we’re leaving today?” I try with a gentle tone. But Jake blanks me. He walks to the closet and yanks more of his clothes out in a manner that screams fuck off.
“Jake?” I try patiently, hating this thick atmosphere and how he’s practically massacring his expensive shirts as he rolls them into balls and almost punches them into his case.
“Yes, we are. I’m not in the mood to hang about any longer,” He snaps and then continues tossing and throwing his clothes in haphazardly.
“You don’t think you’re taking this way out of context?” I push, my anger rising but trying not to lose it.
“Hmmm, I don’t know, Emma, am I? The woman I want a life with tells me she doesn’t actually fucking want it with me.” His anger rises at the closure of his sentence, his husky voice turning more to a growl, deadly venom lacing his tone, that stubborn, impulsive logic clouding his normally quick brain.
“I never said that … I said not yet. There’s an enormous difference.” My resolve is crumbling, and some weary feebleness creeps over me. I was used to Jake’s crazy, violent temper when I was his PA, but I’ve never seen it as his lover. Right now, I don’t know how to react or calm him.
“Why not yet? I know how I feel already. If you don’t feel the same way after everything, then I doubt you ever will.” He slams his case shut and yanks it toward him to zip it up. The strength in the way he savages it is almost enough to snap it off.
He’s being impossible; how can I even argue with such stupid logic? Just because Carrero has decided this is his chosen path is self-assured, always-knows-what-he-wants-in-life, that doesn’t mean I’m there yet. He has to understand that my past, my life, has taught me to be cautious and wary of letting others take too much of my control away. It’s an ingrained reflex to survive, and I need time.
“You’re being ridiculous, Jake.” I bite my tongue, wanting to say so much more, but I know by his simmering temper it will lead to an all-out fight in his mother’s house. That rage inside of him is bubbling dangerously close to an all-out explosion. I can’t deal with the humiliation of a blowout while they’re all here.
“Look … I think we need to drop it. I have to say goodbye; you need to pack. I called the airfield; the jet will be ready by the time we get there.” He’s gritting his teeth as he talks to me, fury seeping out, and for once, I’m glad he’s leaving the room.
I’m shaky and vulnerable and so close to tears. It’s unreal. Jake’s temper never used to phase me when I was his PA, but now, he has this ability to make me feel young, stupid, and insecure. He can wound me deeply, and pain starts gnawing through my chest.
Why can’t I just say ‘yes’? Yes, I want a home with you, Jake. It’s what I want more than anything. I know why—I can’t because I cannot back down or verbalize my fears as he does. And this isn’t going to change until one of us changes our mind. I’m not the one being unreasonable. He is!
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