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“I won’t,” I reply snarkily, holding myself tall.
Fuck you, Jake. Fuck you, Mr. Carrero.
“I’m sure you’ll find something exciting to do,” he says, focusing on packing, but his voice is flat and emotionless, the cruel and harsh side of him; it’s the first time I’ve ever seen his father within him. I want to slap his smug, angry face with all my strength.
“When should I expect you back, Mr. Carrero?” I’m in full PA mode now; I’m making a point, a ‘you don’t affect me’ point. If he’s trying to get a reaction from me with this shocking move, I won’t let him enjoy it. I won’t let him see that it’s hurting me at all.
“When I’m done. Hard to say; it’s been a while,” he sneers without looking up, clearly twisting the knife harder in my chest.
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
I smile graciously, ten out of ten for my acting ability, and still the need to clench my teeth, so precise in my mannerisms. His cell vibrates, and he slides it out, answering it despite my presence.
“Hi … I’ll be leaving soon … Yeah, I missed you too, honey … I’ll meet you there.” He sounds like Casanova Jake of old. The ‘honey’ makes me gag.
Oh my god.
I want to throw up, but I steel myself against the door frame.
Why, Jake, why?
“Who?” It’s out before I can monitor it, and I curse myself for breaking, for showing an ounce of emotion over this, for giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s got to me.
“No one you know. An old flame.” He closes his suitcase, throwing me a fiery look, challenging me to keep going with this; he wants to torture me with details. I can’t bear this. My self-preservation kicks in even more viciously, and I smile fakely.
“If that will be all, Mr. Carrero? I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your trip.” I’m using the door frame as a crutch, but I can’t stand watching this painful scene unfold; he’s going away with some brainless boobs-on-legs to screw her for at least two days. I don’t want him to. I don’t think I can bear this.
When did this happen? When did my feelings spill beyond friendship this badly?
I’ve seen him with other women …
He’s always been this way; when did I start reacting like this? Breaking my heart over him being his Casanova self.
“After I’m gone, tell the others I had to go away for a couple of days.” He’s picking up his suitcase, his body stiff with tension, and the hatred oozing between us is unbearable.
“What reason shall I give?” I sound alien. This fake politeness between us is thick in the stifling air. We’re both exceptionally good at cold and polite.
“I don’t give a shit, Emma. The truth, for all I care.” He flexes his eyebrows sardonically.
That was a blow. It hurt; it knocked the wind out of my sails. I move back as he stalks out with the suitcase in hand. He slides his shades on, and he doesn’t even look at me; he seems beyond pissed.
Should I follow him? Should I stay here?
Stop hovering, Emma; it’s pathetic.
I don’t know what to do; this isn’t me, not anymore. He’s up the hall and out the door in the blink of an eye, obviously determined to leave. I hesitate, then follow; I’m not sure why, but I suddenly need to cling to his presence, the last moments of him. I just want him to stop this; he’s making me feel alone. So broken.
I lose him at the top of the stairs, the sun hurting my eyes. I blink and shield them from view, and suddenly I want him to slide his glasses over my eyes the way he always does. I want him to brush my hair back and take care of me. I want the Jake I know and care about, not this cruel, cold man who doesn’t give a shit about me.
I want to cry as sheer hysteria and panic consume me. I catch sight of him near the stern of the boat; he’s following one of the crew down to the awaiting speed boat.
Oh my god. He really is going; it’s not a ruse. He wants to kill me.
I want to scream his name and run after him, but I’m rooted to the spot as I watch him descend into the waiting boat. I can’t bear to see him leave, so I turn on my heel and run back to my room at full speed. I run like my ass is on fire and don’t stop until I slam down onto my bed and sob out every bottled-up, deep-wracking emotion, right up from the tips of my toes in a spewing out of desperate agony.
I don’t know how long I’m there, but I can’t stop; it’s like a dam has opened, the floodgates broken. Everything I’ve ever held back comes out with the pain I’ve always avoided. I can’t breathe; it’s suffocating and unbearable. It’s excruciating, and every cell of my body is in bleeding agony.
Jake is breaking my heart.
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