29
The anger subsides, and I’m left feeling raw and vulnerable. I stop chanting as I breathe fluidly. I’m back in control and laying so very still. It’s easier than it used to be. I’m better at it, and it takes less time now than it used to. New Emma is lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, and she’s remorseful, knowing what she has done. Logical, clear thinking is back in full swing.
I can’t leave it this way with Jake.
I screamed at my boss … my friend. I don’t know if I can face him again.
But if I don’t, it will only get more awkward. I may get fired. I don’t think Jake would fire me, but still.
He can’t work the espresso machine, and coffee is his lifeline. A small smile tugs the corner of my mouth as I picture him trying, and the inner calm of my regained self pushes me to sit up. I’m ashamed and embarrassed.
My iPad lights up on my side table, indicating I have an email, and I catch Jake’s name from the corner of my eye. I lean across impulsively, sliding it over, and pull it onto my lap. Opening the screen with a tentative slide, I click on the email notification, chest throbbing heavily.
“Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift.”
I open the email, thinking back to the last time he gifted me a song, and my heart retracts a little in pain. Remorse hits me hard, nervous at what this may say.
“Please Forgive Me” by Bryan Adams.
A lump rises in my throat along with the threat of new tears, only this time they’re not in anger or sadness. Jake is trying to make things okay with me, and I can’t just ignore him. The swelling of my heart at his attempt and his sweetness has me on the verge of breaking down. I need to claw back some dignity and face him, let him see that I’m still the same Emma I was. And maybe ask him to forget this ever happened, that I’m not an insane psycho with a troubled past who screams at him and runs away to hide.
Well, maybe I am.
I stand up and walk a bit reluctantly to my door, shaking slightly, and open it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, and steadily walk into the sitting room, my emotions churning like mad.
He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his cell in his hands. His powerful body is tense and stiff, looking at the floor, lost in thought. When he’s trying to choose a course of action, it's his thinking pose, and I’m overcome with remorse.
I made Jake stressed. I did that.
Felicity is standing in the space by the door pulling on her shoes and glaring at him icily.
Maybe it wasn’t all me.
I wait until she slams out dramatically, expecting him to react, but he stays focused on the floor, lost in his head. She hadn’t even noticed me standing here.
Here goes!
I take a deep breath and walk toward him slowly and unsurely. As I get about four feet away, I glance at him shyly, trembling. I have no idea what I’m going to say, as we have never fought this way before. We argue and bicker and have disagreements, but we have never walked out on one another in rage.
“Jake?” I breathe softly, apprehensively. My voice startles him, and his head snaps up. He must have been lost deep in his thoughts, and I catch the uncertainty in his eye.
“Hey,” he says warily. He looks so lost it physically hurts.
“I … umm …” This is harder than I thought it would be. I can’t look at him, so I turn my face away from him, looking across the room, trying to find a focus while I find the words. There’s a noise from the couch, and then I’m hauled into his arms, my head pulled against his chest with a warm hand cupping my skull. He envelopes me in a bear hug, and I’m too stunned to react. I stiffen at its alienness and then slump with relief and accept his touch. Jake’s not mad at me anymore; we’re done fighting.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes into the top of my head, his face buried in my hair. My body completely surrenders to the goodness of his embrace.
My touchy-feely boss!
I’ll have to forgive him again for manhandling me, only this time it’s not that bad; it feels good and takes away all the anger and doubts inside me. It seems to be restoring me to my former self.
“I’m sorry too.” The emotion catches in my throat, my voice breaking with hoarseness, while I revel in the feel of him.
Jake, my boss. Jake, my first real male friend. I don’t want to fight with him this way.
I’ve never been hugged like this by anyone, not even by my mother, and it feels so safe, unfamiliar, yet so right. I close my eyes and allow myself to breathe him in; I wonder if that makes me weird. Freaky Lisa comes to mind.
“I won’t push anymore.” His voice is still soft and warm above my head, and my arms have slid around his waist of their own accord. I’m holding him as tightly as he’s holding me. The realization makes me feel awkward and embarrassed by the intimacy, and I let go. I’m overstepping the mark. He senses my reaction and releases me too. Sheepishly we stand apart, and I’m overcome with shyness.
Crap. This is new.
Like an adolescent, he shoves my shoulder, and I know it’s to cover our awkwardness, so I shove him back.
He sure knows how to revert to fifteen for a twenty-eight-year-old at times.
That gains me a Carrero grin, and I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes, amazed at how easily we can just get over it. It reminds me of how easily Sarah gets over things, and I suddenly miss her.
He’s back in playful mode, and, for once, it doesn’t irritate me; it relieves me. This is what I need.
“Knew you couldn’t hate me for long, Bambina.” He’s still smiling, trying to look convincingly assured, yet failing.
Yeah, of course, you were so confident when I walked in.
I remember his stressed posture and lost look only moments before.
“Hmm, the jury is still out on that,” I answer impassively. I could never hate Jake. He throws me a mock injured look, and I push him harder this time so that he falls back onto the couch with flailing arms and a shocked expression.
Easy there, teen Emma, he’s still your boss.
“Hey, woman! Any more of that, and I’ll have to retaliate. I can promise you, my kind of physical exertion will put some color in your cheeks.” He gets up as though he’s going to grab me, and I squeal, throwing out my arms toward him and shoving him straight back down with more force than necessary. He falls into the couch and just laughs at me.
“Hey! Gross misconduct, Miss Anderson.” He chucks a scatter cushion up at me, but I dodge it easily and catch it.
“Sue me.” I throw it back with a smile as I walk to grab my cell, groaning at the numerous notifications. I’m a little breathless and a hell of a lot happier.
I push down the thoughts about Mr. Sperm Donor, Ray, and Chicago. Jake says he won’t press me on this issue, and I know he means it; I can relax again. We can relax again. We just need to move on now.
I glance down at my workout clothes and realize I need to get changed; we have actual work to do. I glance at him lounging on the couch, still watching me, and I feel better, lighter. He drives me crazy sometimes, but at least Jake isn’t someone who harbors moods or anger for very long. Generally, he has a sunny manner. Well, except towards his father.
The thought makes me smile. Sunny. Never thought I’d associate that word with Jake Carrero.
“Are you going to get changed?” I ask as I skim through my cell, trying now to push us forward. I need to get my laptop open and check that email from Rosalie. She’s texted me informing me there are file attachments and revisions to the Hunter—Carrero contracts Jake has requested that require his immediate attention. I push the last thoughts of Sperm Donor away and get back into PA mode. It’s better this way.
“Nope.” He stretches out on the couch, casually tossing the cushion in the air and watching me from his vantage point; I frown at his casual attire and lack of motivation.
“Well, I’m going to get changed so at least I can feel like I’m ready for work.” I take my cell with me and start to walk back to my room, engrossed in replying to Rosalie’s email.
“Emma?” He halts me in my tracks.
I freeze; a tiny tremor of doubt crosses my mind, holding my breath. Waiting.
“U-huh?” I try to sound non-committal.
“I’m glad we’re okay. Let’s not fight about that shit again, okay?” His huskiness betrays a slight hint of emotion.
“Okay.” I turn and give him a genuine smile; a warm tide of affection fills my stomach as he throws me a simple, natural smile in reply. No showy, playful smiles or ‘I’m just so gorgeous’ grins, but real relief that we’re friends again, and I return his smile even more so. No one makes me relax as Jake does. Sometimes it’s a curse, but I don’t mind it right now. Sometimes, it feels okay to relinquish a little bit of control and stop holding everything in, especially when that smile is the reward.
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