The Carrero Effect Trilogy - Chapter #12 - Free To Read

Chapter 8B

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Chapter 8B

I don't know how to feel. Fear and panic are consuming me, and I can't process anything beyond the next thirty seconds. I can barely breathe … again. I've never had a full-blown panic attack before, but I know instinctively that's what this is. Jake catches my hands and brings them to his chest, pulling me to look at him, slowing my erratic breathing as it matches his. I let him bring me back from the verge again.

"We are in this together. I won't sit back and let you deal with all this alone, Bambina. I'll take care of you every step of the way. I'll be the guy who gets up and feeds the baby while you sleep, and I'll change the nappies and take care of mom the best I can. Trust me with this. Trust that I would never leave you to do this alone, even if you decide you don't want me back." He kisses me on the nose, and my heart melts at the way he always grounds me; a thought creeps, and I instantly go cold.

"But this won't be your first child, Jake. Marissa will give birth before I do and ruin another thing in my life. Your time will be split … between us, between the children, so you can't promise me anything." Tears run down my cheeks, and I pull away from him, anger rising again at the thought of him and her, that horrible stomach-churning vision of his mouth on hers, always lingering to make me ache physically. I slide away from him and cross my arms across my chest, glaring at him, daring him to try to come near me because his touch is abhorrent, and I'm spring-loaded for an attack. Having that bitch in my head makes sure of it, and this feeling here is as close to hate as I could ever feel for him.

He watches intensely for a moment before sliding back against the tub and resting himself against it. He knows when to choose his battles. He's annoyingly good at reading me sometimes, yet other times as brain-dead an idiot as you could possibly get to what I'm thinking.

"I need to say this, Emma. You can look at me like that the whole time if you want, but I'm still saying it." He looks down at my abdomen between us and then back up at my face, his expression serious. I scowl at him more hatefully.

"Marissa may have got in there first, but it doesn't mean shit. The difference is, this one I want more than anything, and hers, I never did … I guess that makes me an absolute shithead for saying it." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, flexing his shoulders, resting both palms on the back of his head. His expression is that of fatigue, more than anything, "You will always be my priority, despite having two kids. I already know which baby will hold my heart more." He glances across at me apologetically, as though he does realize how horrible a person that might make him.

"You are a shithead." I spit out childishly, lowering my glare to the floor, and a new wave of tears hits hard. I can't begin thinking about this now, or I'll fall to bits. It's a complete mess, her, me, babies, Jake.

How the hell did it even come to this horrible fucked-up situation?

Jake ignores my comment and watches me closely, keeping his distance while I flounder in emotional turmoil. I have no clue what to do with all the excessive energy coursing through me.

"Emma, when Marissa told me about the baby, I felt like jumping off the building or hopping on a flight to Australia and never coming back. I still feel sick every time I think about it, even after weeks of knowing it's happening. But this … US …" He slides up onto his knees, shimmying across the floor toward me, awkwardly, yet extremely appealing somehow. He leans down, lifting my chin to look at him. He leans his forehead against mine. The urge to lash out and fight has once again dive-bombed into my feet; fatigue and sadness well up, drowning me instead.

"It feels completely different with you. I want this. I want it more than I ever knew I wanted it." He grins, that sweet little boy smile spreading across his face. "The second I realized what the doc was telling us, I felt this crazy joy building up inside me, Bambina, like straight from my toes and slowly up and over me. This is how it's supposed to feel when you find out you're going to be a father; the desire to shout it out from the rooftops and instant love … I love you so much, and I won't let you down." He grazes his mouth against mine, but I only stiffen at the touch. Marissa is too close to the forefront of my mind right now for his touch. Everything he's saying has stopped computing. I need space to think and fresh air. I need to get off this bathroom floor and eat. We need sustenance because I just threw it up, which can't be healthy.

"I can't process this right now." I pull away from him, leaning out, telling him clearly to give me space. He sighs and moves back but doesn't go far. I think he's starting to realize the turmoil I'm in over him touching me, thankfully, without me having to verbalize it.

"You're moving back in as of today." A command, and there's an edge to his tone I instantly don't like. I snap up to glare at him.

"What the fuck? You don't even know if I'm even willing to take you back, and you're issuing orders to me?" I slam my hands on the cold tile floor angrily, shoving myself to stand. He knows how to ignite my fury button. I'm instantly seething. My skin is prickling with rage at his nerve. I'm already on my feet, ready to march out, but he catches my wrist and comes up to tower above me.

"If you think I'm going to let you stay anywhere but here when you're this fragile, then you can forget it. This isn't just about you anymore. It's my baby too. You get no say in this." He has his stubborn face plastered on, a mild amount of aggression radiating from him. I know when a huge fight is about to erupt, and I have no energy for this. I lift my chin, defiantly meeting the fire in his glare with a fire of my own.

"You will back the fuck off and let me decide what I'm doing. Right now, you're the last person I want to live with." I snap, angered at the turn in this situation, and yank my arm free. He clenches his teeth and glares over the top of me at something above my head, thoughts circling around his mind. We are standing feet apart, stubborn, meeting stubborn. His expression changes as he tries to figure out the best way to handle me, but I will not back down from him. He lost the right to cajole me the second he kissed that bitch; having a baby in this now only makes me more determined to stomp the shit out of his commanding tone.

His face softens unexpectedly, a gentle hand coming to stroke down my jawline and throat tenderly, his voice soothing. I slap his hand away. I know he's changing tactics.

Manipulative asshole.

"Look, I know I have no right. But you're still here after everything, which tells me that maybe I have more than a small chance of getting you back. That I have something to hope for. This isn't about trying to trap you here with me, Emma; it's about protecting who I love, and there are two of you now. I need to be able to take care of you and not go out of my mind worrying when you're in Queens. I wouldn't be able to function knowing that I'm not protecting you and caring for you in the way you need me to."

When he puts it like that …?

My anger simmers, my emotions tug a little, and how he's looking at me breaks down my defenses. His eyes drilling straight into my heart with an annoyingly irresistible face. My breathing calms, and I try like crazy to ease the irrational mess in my head. He has no idea of the intoxicating effect he can have over me, and despite wanting to fight him on this, I know I want him to take care of me. I don't want to be a strong, capable mess back in Queens who fights herself to get up and eat or get up to do something to distract herself from the pain. Being here with him and having him close to me has been far more bearable than the last week of my life, despite the gulf between us.

"One day at a time … I'm not bringing my stuff back until I decide if I can live with you again. You'll have to send Jefferson for clothes as I need them or crack out your credit card because I'm not making any long-term plans to be here." I stick my chin up defiantly and turn on my heel. I catch the slight smirk on his face out of the corner of my eye and storm through to the bedroom, yanking off his T-shirt and reaching for my clothes. I try to ignore the satisfaction he thinks he feels because he has not won this battle. I'm in charge, and I intend to make that clear. Jake has a lot of making up to do, and I'm not a girl who will let him stomp over her heart so easily and get back in.

"What are you doing?" Jake comes out after me and stands lazily against the door frame, one hand on the jam, almost reaching the top effortlessly. His eyes trail down my body, so I turn my back on him.

"I'm obviously not sick or dying, so there's no need to be bed bound. It's morning sickness, so I need to get over it." I grind my teeth. "I need to eat, seeing as I lost my lunch, and I'm starving." I sound angrier than I am. My brain automatically tries to push all of this into a contained space, so I can take little bits out at a time to analyze, process, and get my head around.

"And you need clothes to eat?" He's watching me, a little amused at my obvious bad mood. His whole demeanor has dramatically relaxed, knowing I'm staying.

Asshole.

"Yes, because you're taking me out to eat. I want barbecue chicken wings, a side of fries, a huge tub of banoffee ice cream, and coffee donuts with caramel sauce." I lift my face to him as though saying, "got a problem with that?"

I'm freakin hungry.

"You think you can handle a car ride and not throw up?" His gaze doesn't back down from my intimidating glare. My menu request does not even phase him.

"We're walking. I need the air and the exercise," I snap out and wait for his protest. He shifts uneasily, his desire to argue with me crossing his beautiful brow before he thinks better of it. I will not back down on this. I know what I need right now, and it's not lazing in bed swanning about like some weak, sick person.

Maybe he's finally remembering that he should be groveling right now and not making demands.

"Fine." He pushes off the door frame and turns to his wardrobe, opening a door and yanking out a shirt. "We walk there, but we drive back. Jefferson can come get us later."

We'll see!

* * *

We sit across from each other in the busy little barbecue restaurant, the used plates between us, and I feel a hundred times better, if not a little too stuffed. I sort of regret the pie and donuts, but I had a point to make to him, and I was in no backing-down mood.

The walk here, the food, and the time to silently ponder it all have brought me down to a more even level of insanity. He's kept his distance, not touched me or talked, but let me think until I had some sense of calm, outwardly at least. The food has almost annihilated my thoughts of anything else. My hunger was so ravenous that I focused completely on demolishing the food he bought me, trying to ignore his surprised yet affectionate expression while watching me eat. He hasn't dared to touch anything on the plates I requested but has stuck to his own as though he knows I'll most likely turn feral. This place is one of my favorites for take-out.

This hunger is rather worrying. I hope it doesn't stay this way for the next eight months!

Being surrounded by normal people doing normal things is easing the chaos in my head. If I can pretend things are not as bad as they seem, I can act like none of it is happening to me right now.

"You look better." Jake cuts into my train of thought, and I glance up at him. He's lounging in the wooden seat, watching me while folding a napkin into a tiny square. The fidgeting tell-tale sign that he's not as laid back and comfortable as he appears but is mulling over the emotional turmoil in his head.

"I just needed to let everything sink in. It's been a lot to deal with the last few days. Honestly, I have no way of coping with it all at once." I push away my plate, full, and no longer want the smell wafting at me. It's no wonder I'm having some mid-life breakdown with all of this. I'm the girl who used to shun all emotions, locking them away so they couldn't touch her. I've never really learned how to handle my feelings from my younger life, yet Jake has forced a change in me over all of that. I was still playing catch-up, even before all this mess hit me.

"Look, if you want to stay in Queens, I know I can't stop you. I'm finding all this hard, Emma, not just because of the baby but because I miss you. I don't want you anywhere but with me. I can't think straight when you're not around me." He looks away and frowns across the café, and my heart constricts a little at the sad expression on his face. He's been thinking about how unreasonable his request was, given our current circumstances, mulling over his actions long after his crazy impulsive brain kicked the idea out there - typical of Jake. I can't help the little warmth of love spreading out from the pit of my stomach as I watch the lost look on his expression.

"Jake, I want to move on and forgive you, I do, but it's going to take time. It's not that I don't miss you, I'm just in so much pain, and this … today … well, it just adds to the mess inside my head. I'm hardly singing from the rooftops about it, am I?" I sigh, flicking at pieces of food on the table, attempting not to stare at his pensive face and cry. He makes me want to erase it all and hold him.

"Do you really hate being pregnant that much?" The pain on his face makes me wince. He can't conceal that level of hurt, even in public.

"I don't hate it. I don't know how to react. I have no idea how to be a mother or even deal with kids. It's not like I had a good example … When have you ever seen me near a child? Please don't say Sophie because she's almost an adult. I'm scared, and this … It couldn't have come at a worse time than what's happening between us right now." I sigh, rubbing my fingers into my scalp, and twirling a strand of my hair. I look out the window at the far end of the bistro, closing my eyes, wishing I could go back to a week ago.

"I know … I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for all this; you must believe me when I say we will be okay. All this right now it's a lot, but we can get through it together. If you let me in, just a little, let me help you get through this. I want all of this with you." He leans forward, taking my hand in his, focusing on my eyes, bringing my gaze to him far too easily.

Damn you and your persuasive, pretty face. Why do you make me so stupidly weak?

"Trusting me, forgiving me … It's not something you need to do right now to move on, Emma. That's something I'll earn over time when I prove to you that you can. I'm just asking for a chance to do this right, for you to take a chance on us again. We were good together. We are good together, and I won't lose you over a dumb mistake I made impulsively. We can be happy, Emma. I know I can make you happy." With that intense, serious face, and the love in his eyes, I sigh at it all and feel a little less broken somehow.

"But a baby, Jake?" The word hits me in the gut every time I say it. It's terrifying and a black hole of confusion in my head. I have no idea how I'm ever going to get used to this. I need time to let it sink in.

"You'll have to have a little faith that this will be amazing. You're a natural, Emma. I do not doubt that you'll know exactly how to be a mother when it comes. I know you're more than capable, and I'll be there every step of the way to help you." He turns my hand in his and starts circling my palm with his fingertips. It would be almost mesmerizing if it weren't for the internal battle over whether I want his touch. I must admit that it soothes me. I still ache for it, yet it hurts when I see her. I can't keep confusing the boundaries this way.

"What about her?" I can't bear to say her name. It catches in my throat like a spiked apple, she isn't going away anytime soon, and neither is the bundle she carries.

"What about her?" Jake asks carelessly, pausing and looking at me a little too intensely. My heart is thundering with an achingly familiar pain, and he seems deadly serious.

"Well … She probably thinks she has a chance with you since you kissed her, and she's already carrying your kid. She isn't going to like finding out about mine." I yank my hand away, the inner wave of tears hitting hard. Either hormones are making me crazy, or bouts of anger and pain at Jake are taking turns to show face when I least expect them. I have no control over this at all; one second, I adore his face, and the next, I want to throw my mug at it. He sighs, pulling over the tray with our check on it, sliding a note from his wallet, and leaving it on the table. He's dismissing my outburst and being patient, which may be wise. He knows he has no grounds for protest on my behavior in any of this.

"For all I care right now, Marissa could emigrate to the moon. Come on, feisty; I think you need a nap." He smiles at me knowingly, and it makes me more pissed.

"Don't patronize me. I'm not tired!" I snap as I clamber out of my chair, knocking away his offering hand. I have no control over the crazy up-and-down moods I seem to be harboring toward him. "I'm pregnant, not a child!" I haughtily stalk past him and yank open the door before he can get close. He's still pulling our coats up from the chairs, silently and calmly, and I can feel his eyes on me with every step I take.

Catching up with me outside, he drapes my coat over my shoulders wordlessly, sliding his shades over my eyes, and I stop dead on my heels, an old forgotten Jake-ism knocking the wind out of my sails a little. His constant tender care is enough to make my crazy anger simmer back down to a defeated hum. He's keeping a pace or two behind me. My insides are pricklier than a cactus right now, and that bitch's face is beaming at me from inside my head.

* * *

I try to ignore Jake's smug look when I stroll into the open-plan living space, finally awake from my two-hour nap on his bed. I had a tantrum on the way home, making him walk with me while I refused to get in the car as Jefferson drove alongside me at the pace of a snail. It was utterly ridiculous, but I was adamant that Jake wouldn't tell me what to do, and he walked alongside me with hands in his pockets, daring not to argue.

I've woken up feeling a hundred times angrier and more emotional. I have no clue whether it's delayed shock or my brain unraveling slowly. I only know that I feel like breaking down and sobbing about everything and eating a lot of ice cream … with chips … and hot sauce … And maybe a bowl of pistachios too. I suddenly want food more than anything; again. Food and some damn mental rest. This is completely exhausting like I am going through some sort of grief that I can't understand.

He's standing in the kitchen with a very smiley Daniel Hunter sitting across from him at the breakfast bar, and it only makes me tense up. The causal way Jake is sitting his butt against the sink sipping coffee and Daniel's relaxed posture on the stool facing him looks so normal, unaffected, and "every day."

Assholes.

"What are you doing here?" I snort at Daniel with an expression of utter disgust. I know it's completely none of my business, this is Jake's apartment and Jake's friendship, after all, and honestly, I can't imagine Jake inviting him here while things between us are an absolute hot mess. Plus, until Daniel grovels at Leila's feet, he's no longer on my 'I almost like you' list. I'm not entirely sure when he got on that list, but he's certainly off it again now. I wander into the kitchen past Jake without meeting his smug look and yank open the fridge in search of food, ignoring the smirk or whatever cutesy look he's trying to give me.

Piss off. Asshole. Know it all. Will this hunger ever calm the hell down? I swear I know what vampires must feel like now.

"Hi to you too. Now is that the heartbroken Emma biting or the hormonal one? I hear congrats are in order."

I spin and scowl at Daniel, then Jake, for even daring to let that idiot in on our personal matters.

So, he told his bestie, and now they're out here having some little womanly chat over fatherhood and broken-hearted girls!

Dickheads.

"Both." I turn back to the fridge, rummaging through the tubs and trays Nora has stocked it with, finding a tub of cold chicken salad and digging in with my fingers. My eyes are still searching for something more satisfying … preferably something greasy.

"I love her just as much when she's being this adorable," Jake smirks, and I catch Daniel frowning.

"You're totally under the thumb, dude. Your life is going to be a living hell if she gives you a girl. You'll have no chance two to one, and with that attitude."

I slam the bowl down, my inner emotion hitting hard, a lump catching in my throat; irrational feelings bruised so bloody easily.

"I'm sure Marissa will even up the odds by giving him a boy." I snap, slamming the refrigerator door before turning to walk off with tears in my eye.

"Hey…" Jake catches me mid-storm and pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest, smoothing a hand down the back of my neck. Bringing some calm to my outburst with his gentle touching relaxed tone. I don't fight him, just sag against him, but I refuse to put my arms around him or my hands on him. I close my eyes, pushing my face against his chest instead.

Is this a compromise on the touching thing?

"Nap didn't help, huh?" He soothes me, and my fire dies. I shake my head and press my face against him, turning my cheek, letting a little of my tears run free before trying to sniff them back. His hand travels down my back, and he slowly circles the base of my spine with light caressing, bringing some calm to my inner chaos and taut frayed emotions. I wish I could get a handle on things for five minutes.

"Chicks are cra-" Daniel is frowning at me.

"You finish that, and I won't have to hurt you. Emma might snap your head off your neck, the way she's feeling," Jake warns as he tightens his hold a little. He emanates a little irritation, and I know it's aimed at Daniel; he is always protective, even if it's just over my feelings.

"Guess I better get used to crazy women if I'm going to go ahead with my plan, right, Jake?" Daniel doesn't sound so smug anymore, his voice uneasy and a little nervous. I twist in Jake's arms to glare at him suspiciously under furrowed brows.

"What plan? What's he talking about?" I look up at Jake accusingly. Whatever Daniel is up to, I know Jake will surely be involved. He doesn't look phased at all. He just sips more coffee and gazes at Daniel for a moment.

"You going to tell her, or am I?" Jake smiles over the top of my head and then looks down at me when I don't hear Daniel respond.

"Danny has put himself into therapy … The goal is not to run screaming for the hills when he convinces Leila to give him another shot."

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