The Carrero Effect Trilogy - Chapter #10 - Free To Read

Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

I yawn, stretching out like a satisfied cat in the silky comfortable bed, my mind taking moments to come to terms with where I am. Fully rested for the first time in days, and for a second, I forgot everything.

Jake is close by, his arms around my waist, his legs across mine, but he's sound asleep. I take a minute to evaluate how I feel about waking up this way. I slowly pull myself free from his embrace and sit in the bed, pulling my knees to my chest and sighing.

Confusion still present? Check.

Emotions all over the place? Check.

Still not further forward in how I feel about him. Check.

Just friggin dandy!

It's late in the day, past eleven am. I don't remember the last time I slept this much, so I sit and watch him sleep a little longer. The longing to reach out and touch him overwhelms me, so I slide out of bed and go to the shower, locking the door for the first time ever. I'm not ready for anything to happen between us and need some time alone to stand under the massaging jets of water and think of nothing. I don't regret being here or sharing a bed with him, my heart needs it, and I meant it when I said I wanted to come home. This is where I belong, and Sarah is right; I can only begin to forgive him by being here, surrounded by him, and taking everything a day at a time. I don't know when things will feel better for me, but I love him, and I can't bear for it to be the end. I need him.

Does this mean a part of me has decided to give him a chance?

I stop for a moment to blink through this thought. I guess a part of me knew from drunk dialing him that I wasn't ready to end things. I wasn't prepared to live a Jake-less life, but it doesn't mean I can't walk away. I need to see how this goes, see if I can move on, and get back to what we had.

If I can't, then I'll go.

When I wander through to the bedroom draped in a warm fluffy robe, the bed is empty, and the covers are strewn messily, but the smell of coffee and food is wafting through the walls. I pull my robe tighter, rub my hair with the towel, and then leave it to air dry; it's at its waviest when damp.

The internal war inside me seems to be giving me a break for now; it's like she's holding her breath, just waiting to see how things develop. For once, I'm glad of the lack of constant emotional torture and this new relative peace sweeping through me. I guess a decent night's sleep with no night terrors has helped immensely.

I wander through to find Jake sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee in T-shirt and sweatpants. He looks better, is less tired and ruffled, and has damp hair. He smells divine. He's trimmed his stubble and sorted his hair. He seems like normal Jake, not yesterday's slightly tired and rumpled version. Something I wasn't aware I was aching to see until now.

He smiles at me when I approach, wide and happy, uncovering a plate of croissants, bacon, and pancakes for me, my breakfast of choice from one of my favorite local deli. I slide onto a stool beside him and watch as he pours an orange juice before sliding it in front of me with a peck on the cheek. I pause at the affectionate touch, waiting for the pain or the image of her, but nothing comes. Just the warmth of his skin on mine. He seems to sense my hesitation but returns to his coffee without a word. I've no clue about how we're meant to do this, touching or not, cuddling or not. I've no idea if I want it or not.

Despite having zero appetites the last few days, I'm ravenous and dig in in silence. I didn't eat at all yesterday. We'd slept the day and night away. Catching up on rest from days of emotional angst and insomnia, food has been the last thing on my mind.

I'm aware of Jake's eyes on me a few times, but I concentrate on eating without looking his way. My head is calmer today, and I'm more positive, but there's still a can of worms waiting to be opened; not sure I even want to try to prize it open yet.

"What do you want to do today? Stay here and talk? Or go somewhere else and talk?" Jake's voice cuts into the quietness of my brain. He drops his fork and lifts his coffee mug, eyes on my profile, watching me eat.

"Maybe we could go for a drive?" I say shyly. "I don't think there's much left to say, to talk about. I mean … We can only see how it goes." I swallow hard. I've no idea why this makes me nervous; talking has never been my strong point, but indecision is not something I've ever dealt with. It's knocking me off kilter, so I focus, a little more intently, on eating my food.

"I told you, Emma, whatever you want. Whether it's to talk or not if it's to take you places and distract you, or even to sit in silence. Whatever you need, I need you to tell me." His fingers brush my free hand, and I watch, mesmerized, as he trails the tips over my knuckles on the countertop. So softly, it's barely a tickle, but it feels natural and right, my body betraying me once again.

Pathetic, Emma.

"Right now, I don't want to think anymore, Jake. I want to relax and not feel anything for a little while. Pretend that everything is normal." I sigh heavily, pushing away PA Emma's voice in my head.

"Don't hide inside your head, Bambina. I know your impulse is to block it out and push it away with all the other things that hurt you … But please, not this. We have to deal with this properly, Neonata, so it never comes back to hurt us again." He turns in his seat, pulling my stool between his open knees so I'm nestled close to him. Letting him wrap himself around me all night has permitted him to proceed with his touchy old Carrero self. I know I should be setting limits, making him keep his distance, but I don't. My body is yearning for his soothing touch, a relaxing balm for me today. I went days without it, and it was agony. Now my body is making up for its loss.

"I know." I can't help glancing at him, his knuckles coming to graze my cheek gently, the fluttering inside of me at his touch even now. I pull my face away and bite my lip as his hand drops between us. Even after what he's done, I'm responding and feel angry at myself.

"Where do you want to drive to?" His voice is softer with being so close, and his gaze is intent on my mouth. I can tell how much he wants to kiss me, which only raises my fear.

That kiss invites her into my head, all the pain of what he did, and I'm not ready to deal with that right now. I turn away so I'm not tempted and push my empty plate aside. I look out across the open-plan room and sigh, knowing that he's reading every signal I'm giving off with apprehension, probably overanalyzing every one. Being so near him has my head in chaos about what I want from him, blurring the lines of how much touching I can bear to allow.

"I don't know … just anywhere, somewhere pretty. Somewhere that's not here." I shrug. I don't know why I want him to drive me anywhere. Maybe the motion of the car and Jake being the one in control somehow make it feel better. It means I can take time out from life while he focuses on the road, and maybe we can listen to music and not talk.

I don't want to talk. I'm scared that if I start talking everything, about her and the baby, if she still anything to him and our life, then it will all come crashing painfully in on me like a fragile tower of cards. Today I want quiet and calm and to be with him. The past few days have taken a toll; this little respite is like a breath of warm air in the frost. I want a time out, and nowhere in the rules of whatever this is does it say that I can't have that.

"Okay … Your wish is my command, beautiful. Do you need me to take you to Queens for clothes first?" His fake jovial tone makes me falter, and I hate that it's not genuine, that we're hurting each other this way. I inhale heavily, trying to get at least one breath that isn't laced with pain.

"Later. I'll keep on the clothes you brought me yesterday, seeing as all I've done is sleep." I can't explain the weird way I feel, but I want to get out and go somewhere where no one knows us, where I don't need to explain anything to anyone. Sarah would ask questions, but I need reflection and silence and maybe him.

Okay, definitely him.

I'm still tired, and I'm a little lightheaded despite eating. All the recent emotional turmoil and lack of food and sleep have taken their toll on me, and now playing catch up.

"Can we go now?" the apartment is closing in on me, and restlessness is kicking in. If I keep sitting here, near him, like this, I'll want to kiss him, which would lead to touching. Then I'd want him all over me, inside me, and I'm not ready to take that step just yet. I don't know if I ever will be. It's too confusing with him being close enough to inhale.

"Sure, go get ready. Which car do you want to take?" He slides his mug beside his empty plate, and I sigh, pushing myself up from the bar stool.

"The Bat-mobile." I smile shyly at him, knowing a ride in his pride and joy will make him happy, and right now, I want to hear it genuinely in his voice and not just play pretend.

"Lucky for you, I keep it downstairs." He grins merrily at the mention of his toy and slides out of his chair, stooping down to kiss me behind the ear thoughtlessly before picking up his phone and walking toward the bedroom. I falter at his touch but take a deep, steadying breath.

Make a choice; either he's allowed to touch you and throw affection your way, or he's not. You're only confusing him and yourself by not deciding whether he can or not.

I swallow the ball of emotion rising in my throat and head toward the bedroom to get dressed.

I just don't know, okay!

* * *

Less than half an hour later, we're heading out of the city onto calmer scenery. Jake suggested driving to Long Island, over an hour away, and maybe stopping somewhere to and take in the beautiful surroundings. He's packed a couple of warm jackets and a hat for me and looked up some quiet spots for lunch when we get there. He's being romantic and thoughtful, Jake, trying to show me how much I mean to him.

The car is stiflingly hot. Even though the weather is mild, his air con is blowing gently, and a slow heat creeps up my spine. I wonder if maybe the way I've been feeling is a sign I'm getting sick.

Yes, that's really what I need right now on top of everything else.

I'm exhausted. Even though I slept a lot last night, this fatigue can't be from the emotional insomnia I've suffered for the past week. Right now, here with Jake, listening to quiet country music as we pass through the city, I feel anything but emotional, yet my body is completely out of whack. I'm tired and sensitive. Nausea from my hangover lingering, despite sleeping almost an entire day and night, I crack the window a little for air.

"You okay, Bambina?" Jake's voice cuts through my inner dialog, and I glance at him quietly. "You look a little pale suddenly." He lifts his fingers to my cheek and frowns. "You feel warm too." He looks around, veering the car into a side street, and pulls over before he leans further to feel my face properly. The touch of his hands on my skin sends out another brain-filled bout of arguing voices with which I've zero energy to contend.

Fine, he can touch me … End of!

"I think I'm getting sick. I've been feeling off-color lately." I admit, resting my forehead against his palm instinctively. The inner voices seem to have shut up now that I've given consent for him to touch me.

"I don't think a trip to Long Island is the answer, Emma. I'm taking you home, and you're going to bed." He has the serious, don't argue, commanding tone in his voice that, for once, I've no desire to go up against. Since getting into the car, my bile has risen slowly, and I have an overwhelming urge to gag.

"I'm not that sick, Jake. It's just remnants of my hangover and this past week." I try for a smile, but without warning, nausea rises out of me, and I jack the car door open just in time to get my head out before I throw up.

"Jesus. Emma!" Jake lets go of me and, within seconds, appears outside the car, pulling me away from the contents of my stomach to a nearby step and sitting me down. I rest my head between my knees before turning away in panic as I throw up again into nearby bushes, retching in pain as I lose the only things I've eaten over the past two days. This time Jake holds back my hair and balances my shoulder, keeping me steady.

"Can you sit up?" He pulls me back against him and doesn't let go until I nod. "I have water in the car." He jumps up, dashing to the car's open doors and back again in a flash. He takes up his position behind me, bringing the bottle to my hands, and I lean against him, sipping the burning taste of vomit away from my mouth. My head is swimming as nausea subsides, and I suddenly feel weak and tired.

"I've never seen you ill … You're worrying me, Miele. I think we need to get you home and looked at." He sounds concerned, with a hint of panic in his voice. He holds me to him with his palm on my forehead, giving me more reasons to take a chance on him and get this between us to work. He's taking care of me, just like he always does.

I love you so much.

"It's just a bug or something I've eaten. I'll be okay. I'm starting to feel a little better now." I try for a convincing smile, tilting my face toward him, but his face only hardens some more. He doesn't like what he sees; I know it's futile to hide this from him. I feel fragile, and my voice is exposing my little white lie.

"You're so white, and you're trembling. We're going home." He scoops me onto his lap, closes his legs beneath me, and holds me close. "If it's nothing, then it won't do any harm having a doctor look at you, will it?" He rests my head against his neck, holding me in.

"If it makes you happier, but I can promise you, this is nothing." I'm too tired to argue with him and too faint to care. I'm not even protesting when he lifts me and carries me to the car, sliding me in to avoid the puddle I left beside the door. He clips my belt over me and closes the door before getting to the other side and starting up.

"Home and bed," he commands, reversing, resting a hand on my cheek again, testing my temperature to see if I'm hot. I lay my head on him for a moment before pulling away as the emotional confusion hits home again.

Maybe touching isn't such a good idea.

"Yes, sir," I say, closing my eyes and resting my head against the seat. If I block out the motion and try to relax, I'm sure I can keep the nausea at bay until we're back at the apartment. It isn't that far.

* * *

"We're here, Miele." Jake lifts me from the car when I blink my eyes open. I'm sure it's only been seconds since I closed them. I'm in his arms, being lifted out of the car, and the garage around us looks exactly like underground parking at his apartment, and I'm completely thrown.

"We're home already?" I blink a few times, snuggling closer into his strength, still trying to get a grip on reality, confusion all over my face, severely disorientated.

"You fell asleep pretty quickly, Bambina. You don't look so white anymore, so I think it did you some good." Jake brushes his mouth against my forehead with a soft smile.

What the hell is with the sleeping lately?

I close my eyes and let Jake carry me into the elevator and home. He's right. I do feel better for having taken a nap. My nausea has subsided almost completely, and now I just feel hungry. I know I should be fighting him to let me walk, but my body and mind unanimously decide to let him do this.

I open my eyes when he lays me on the bed in his room. Nora has been in and cleaned up in that precise hotel-esque method of hers. The room is surprisingly comforting, and I take a breath feeling like I've returned home. I'm more than aware of the surge of happy joy it gives me and frown at myself.

"I don't need to go to bed. I feel better, and I'm hungry." I smile as he slides down beside me on the neat sheets. I sit myself up a little, wary he might start wrapping himself around me and cross my arms over my chest defensively.

"You're staying here regardless. I'll get you some food if you're sure that's what you want." He frowns at me with a comical look on his face, his eyes take in my posture, and he moves away a little. Not that I blame him. Vomiting and then asking for food isn't exactly normal.

He lifts his fingers to my cheek, and I let them linger there. "You still feel hot, but you're not so pale anymore." The way his touch feels is more than enough proof that I should make it clear that I'm not ready for it.

"I guess the car just made me feel worse." I shrug with one shoulder, nestling onto the bed a little more comfortably. I watch how the sunshine comes into the room, lightening the color in his beautiful eyes to an almost transparent, gemstone green. One thing Jake will always be to me is gorgeous, despite how much he has hurt me.

"Maybe." Jake gets up and leaves the room, telling Nora to make me something light. Nora replies, saying something about homemade chicken soup, and I roll my eyes.

The two of them are acting like I have a terminal illness.

I swing my legs off the bed, standing quickly to tell him how ridiculous he's being, and instantly crumble. My vision blacks out, and my body loses all control, Jell-O legs, and complete disorientation as I stand far too quickly.

"Shit." I groan, feeling the cold wood floor connecting harshly with my limbs. I realize that I knocked my elbow sharply on the way down to my current crouching position.

"Emma? Emma … Fuck!" Jake's panicked voice is followed by heavy boots running toward me, and I'm being dragged up from the floor into his strong embrace.

"Did you fall? Why were you up? Are you okay?" He's lifting me onto the bed with him, so I'm sitting in his lap, wrapped in him, aware my whole body has started to tremble and heat flushes across my face in a devastatingly horrible way; the rise of nausea strong again as dizziness gives way to coldness.

"I think it was a fainting spell," I mumble weakly. "I don't think I fainted, but I don't feel so good." I slump against his chest, knowing what's coming next, and I don't have the energy or inclination to argue. I'm out of whack and ready to lie down and stay in bed just like he ordered.

"That's it, this happened in the Hamptons, and now this, Emma … I'm calling my doctor. Get into bed and do not move … I swear if you so much as lift your head, there will be hell to pay." He's in snappy, bossy Carrero mode. He sweeps back the covers and lays me down in the open space, pulling my boots and sweater off before covering me up gingerly. He looks stressed and wired, and all I can do is smile weakly in return.

There he is … That's my Carrero, a vision of domineering aggression in all his concerned beauty.

God, I've missed you.

"Yes, sir." I throw a mocked salute at him, still shaken, but lying down in the cool sheets helps. The overwhelming trembling is subsiding, and the nausea is calming down. He picks up the TV remote and presses it, the TV coming down from the concealed space in the ceiling, choosing a romantic chick flick for me from the menu. His body is stiff as he scrolls, but I can't help smiling at his choice.

"Here." He hands me the remote with a warning glint in his eye. "Stay put. Nora is making your food. I'm going to call the doctor. I'll be back soon, and I better not find you've moved out of this bed, even once," he commands. His eyes are fiery, and his face is completely serious. It makes my inner nerves jump slightly in a tug of heartfelt emotion. He bends, kissing me lightly on the forehead, then walks off, lifting his phone to his ear and heading to his office.

I can tell he's trying to act like he's in control, but that flicker of worry and the fact he's left the room to call his doctor makes my heart swell a little. Through all my crazy internal emotional mess, this part of him always wins me over.

Jake is really worried about me. It's so sweet it's almost funny, as is his movie choice for me.

Ten Things I Hate About You.

I guess he knows I'm emotionally all over the place with how I feel about him, and he's using movies the way he uses iTunes, except this film is for me to him. He knows I'm struggling to get past his actions to make me hate him. I can't help but sigh, feeling more than a little bit torn.

I don't hate you, Jake. I'm hurt, and I hate her. I'm just confused.

I know I'm physically fine, maybe needing bed rest and sleep. I've caught a little bug, but I'm positive there's nothing for him to worry about … nothing physically anyway. My mind, on the other hand, is a completely different ballpark.

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