"Hey," I say to Sarah when she answers the phone. Her sweet hello makes me smile. I miss her like crazy, even though it's only been two weeks since Jake brought me here. I've been hiding, mulling things over, trying to get my head around everything that is my life before reaching out to her or anyone else. I swore Jake to secrecy about the baby until I could let it sink in and see how things went between us. I need time, and he's giving it to me.
"Hey, you. How's it all going? I didn't want to call after your text in case you two needed some time alone." She responds with a gentle tone, the one she uses when she thinks I'm fragile.
Oh, are you about to find out how fragile I am.?
"I'm getting there. It's been a bit up and down. I'm still taking crazy angry turns at Jake, but he's been the model of absolute patience." I sigh and think back over the last couple of weeks, cringing. Jake has been understanding. He's keeping his distance unless I initiate rare touch. Still no kissing and no sex. He's enduring my cyclone of moods like a champ. I can't fault him at all. Jake has been everything he promised; patient, understanding, calm, non-demanding, and gentle, sometimes a little too gentle.
He is letting me behave appallingly towards him, not yelling back when I need to shout at him. Not reacting when I slap his hands away or avoid his touch. Instead, surprising me with take-out whenever he has to go out. He brings me everything I crave at any hour, night, or day, even when he has to drive thirty minutes to fetch it. He moved to another bedroom for the first two nights of my being here until I woke from another night terror and crawled in beside him, sobbing my heart out. After that, he refused to sleep apart again, so on that front, I relented. Sleeping apart was miserable anyway, not only because of the dreams but because I missed having him nearby, even when I wanted to throw things at him. Even in bed, though, he's kept his distance for the most part.
"He should be, seeing as he's the one who did this to you." She soothes.
Oh, the irony.
"Sarah … talking of things Jake's done to me…." I break off and inhale slowly. I still haven't got my head around this little detail. Petrified by the idea, I'm still unsure if I've absorbed it.
"Please tell me he hasn't done anything else that stupid?" Sarah gasps, suddenly in ferocious mode, her tone almost a growl. I can picture that sweet face twisting in rage and over-protectiveness.
Well actually…
"I'm pregnant," I blurt out, breathing out so it comes out like a whooshing noise. I figure using the whole ripping off a Band-Aid method is probably best; say it quickly, and it won't be as bad.
"Say again?" Sarah halts with a sharp intake of breath.
"I'm going to have Jake's baby." Another quick whoosh of breath in a zombie-like monotone.
God, even the way I say it sounds like I'm in complete disbelief, trying the words out for the first time after two weeks of mulling this over.
There's an eerie silence for a moment, and I'm not sure if Sarah's there anymore; maybe she's passed out, but I didn't hear a thud. The inner swirl of fear I've been harboring for the last two weeks rises, getting ready to spill over.
"You know … ordinarily, anyone else saying this to me, especially with all you two have going on, would make me feel a bit…well, upset. But I have this weird sense of happiness right now that I can't explain." Her tone's slow swell of joy as she lets my news sink in. She sounds almost as confused at her reaction as I have been in the past weeks here.
"You're happy?" I question flatly, not sure of what response I wanted from her. Now I'm confused and suddenly a little irritated. Sarah was always the word of reason and wisdom. Now she's being a Jake.
"I think you need this, Ems." She encourages softly, with a gentle tone.
I am beyond stupefied right now.
"I need an unplanned pregnancy?" I repeat like a completely brainless dimwit who can't absorb anything she's saying, with an edgy tone to my voice. I am trying to figure out how her brain works.
"No. I mean, I used to think you needed someone like Jake to bring out the inner you, but now I think this here is what's going to bridge that last gap. Motherhood Emma. I think you need motherhood." She sounds enlightened like she's just had the most amazing epiphany.
I don't think so!
I have no words; my brain is whirring and whizzing at my friend's idiotic logic.
"We're not in the nineteen fifties. I won't have a fulfilling life if I just get married and pop out babies," I snap a little too aggressively, trying to reel in the anger I've been going through a lot lately, annoyed at myself for getting snippy with her. But really, she has the most idiotic logic ever. It wouldn't surprise me if, in her next breath, she tried to marry me off to him!
"No, that's not what I mean. Look, stop getting upset. I just mean that part of you, maybe, needs unconditional love and the nurturing maternal stuff that comes with being a mom. That with Jake and a baby, you'll maybe find that place you've been looking for. What he can't give you himself, he can give you by making you a mother." She leaves me dumbfounded, so sure of her crazy ideology.
I run a hand over my face in agitation and rub at my closed eyes. Sarah has lost her mind.
"I have no idea what you're on, but send some my way. I could do with that kind of special this morning," I snap grumpily, hostility in full flow, only she giggles at the other end.
"Oh, my God, poor Jake. Emma, really? In less than five minutes, I can only imagine the crazy mess he's dealing with. All those versions of you colliding dramatically with hormonal imbalance thrown in, and you've probably no idea how to handle it at all. No wonder you're being so pissy." Her tone seems to quell my anger, and despite myself, I smile. Sarah, of all people, knows me well, and she's right.
My life has been turned on its head, and every version of who I was or am has me so upside down and back to front I've no idea who I am anymore. All I know is graceful and cold PA Emma would never be in the crazy mess I'm in now. I haven't worn any of her clothes in weeks, let alone those stilettos, which I've kept with me almost like a protective talisman. I wear flats now … flats! Girly clothes, cute jumpers, and goddamn summer dresses in romantic fabrics. Hell must have frozen over, surely.
"I've been a nightmare, Sarah. It's a wonder he's still here." I cast my mind back to the tearful sobbing, angry shouting, and smashing plates of crazy Emma, who has been occupying the apartment with him. The woman who woke from a nap on the couch to find Jake had set up the bathroom with candles, music, rose petals, and a gorgeous bubble bath for me and told him I hated him before breaking down in sobs.
I am a mess. Jake is in pain too, but I'm selfishly stomping all over him, ignoring what he's feeling, marking it as invalid because he hurt me and ruined things because he took my trust and ripped it into tiny shreds.
The stuff with Marissa still claws at my brain every day. It's completely unhealthy, hanging over me like some doom and gloom cloud of tension. I've spent the last two weeks knowing he's been avoiding her contact, and it only adds to the build-up inside me; that somehow, the moment he sees her will make me break. It intensifies my anger when it hits, and I know a time will come when I'll blow up at him, an outlet for all the crazy inside me.
"Jake loves you, and he's repenting for his sins. If he can't handle all you're throwing at him now, babe, he's not the man for you." Sarah laughs and jokes, but I know she's being serious.
Jake is handling all I am throwing at him, bringing home my favorite foods when he goes out to meetings and pampering me with gifts and love notes to find whenever I open a drawer or use the bathroom. He leaves little surprises for me to find whenever he goes out. He's trying so hard to show me that I am loved and wanted, yet all he's getting in return is an unhinged emotional psychopath who occasionally shows hints of the girl he loves. I need to stop pushing him away and acting so hostile, or I'll be chasing Jake to win him back. But I can't help it. Something in me in the last two weeks has grown overly uncontrollable, with an emotion bubbling inside of me that I can't pick out, an aching cavern of emptiness that I have no way of dealing with or know how to deal with.
"I think he might get sick of how I'm being," I verbalize my inner doubt without thinking. Shivering at the thought.
"No, he won't, Emma. You're pregnant, and you're grieving over what he did. I'm sure even Jake has the intelligence to see that, and he's sure as hell got the sense to let you do it. Are you back? I mean, are you … intimate again?" Her question surprises me, but with Sarah, she does like the juicy details.
"I let him touch me; occasionally. We share a bed, and sometimes he reaches for me in his sleep but other than that, we don't go near each other. I can't let him kiss me or get too touchy-feely just yet, and definitely no sex." I can't even begin to explain the heartbreak I get whenever I contemplate kissing him. She's always there in my mind, pushed up against him. It's all bound up with my trust in him and my inner need to inflict punishment on him. I can't even dissect it myself, and I haven't let him try in weeks. I've been too scared to let him if I'm being honest, because that bitch being in my head causes so much pain.
"It's normal, Ems. He betrayed you. All that stuff isn't owed to him … it's earned. He needs to earn back the trust to let him go there again. I completely understand." She sighs.
I'm glad she does, as I have no idea.
I catch the noise of Jake coming into the apartment and the shuffle of bags as he strolls in; he and Mathews are laughing over something. He sounds happy, tugging at my heart and lightening my mood. The voice and laugh that has so much power over me. I miss that laugh lately; it hasn't been around much.
He had an early meeting at his father's building and was gone for hours. There's a rise in my stomach, the lightening of the heavy pit, and the urge to go to him overwhelms me. At least a part of me still wants him just as much as I did before; it reminds me every time he's been away. I miss him when he's not here, even if I am being a complete bitch to him when he is.
"Sarah, I need to go. I'll text you later, okay? Jake's home." I suddenly have an unyielding urge to see him.
We say our goodbyes, and as I hang up, Jake sweeps past, carrying many shopping bags with various brands and designer names emblazoned across them. I sigh and hope he's not brought home another mountain of gifts like he did last time he was in the city. I don't want gifts and trinkets; I want my head to stop with all its confusing crap.
He heads into the bedroom with a smile my way, and I get that surge of disappointment that I've been getting a lot lately. Sometimes I miss the forceful Jake who says, Fuck this shit, and pushes me to a wall kissing the hell out of me. I miss him that way, and part of me wonders how I would react if he did just that, if he took away my choice to kiss him and just did it. If he took away my choice and just forced physical contact again.
Would I push him away?
You chose to keep him at a distance until you can handle this Marissa shit!
I stare down at my phone to distract my thoughts, contemplating calling Leila, swiping to her face among my contacts, and telling her when I'm suddenly hoisted up mid-air off the couch with a squeal. Jake doing his best ' bride-to-be' hold, plants a kiss on my cheek with the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen. I melt a little inside and can't help but smile back at this forbidden contact. My inner stomach flutters crazily, and a tiny sparkle of something else, something warm and tingly.
"Did you miss me? I missed you." He's obviously in a very good mood; this spontaneous grabbing has been lacking lately.
Severely lacking.
"Maybe," I reply softly, looking away shyly. I'm suddenly nervous and awkward like I used to be before I knew he loved me. It feels weird to be nose to nose again. It feels like an age has passed since we were this close while awake.
"I come bearing gifts." He grins, trying to tilt his head around to get me to look at him. His cuteness has me shaking my head and giving in to his intoxicating mood.
"Stop spending money on gifts. I told you I don't need them," I huff lightly. But the inner swell of joy I'm getting from being in his arms is nudging away the anger so I don't sound mad. I sound like the old me.
"Technically, they're not for you, Bambina." He winks cheekily and plants another kiss on me, this time on the corner of my mouth, his eyes focusing a little too long on my lips. I can feel myself urging him just to do it. I can't think straight as I take in those perfectly chiseled kissable lips so close to me. I clear my throat and bring my attention back to his eyes.
Oh, those eyes.
"Who are they for?" I sound childish, and he only smiles harder, a look of adoration evident on his face. He's chipping away at me, melting some of my ice with his current behavior and mood.
"I'll show you." He turns and carries me to the bedroom, gently laying me on the bed beside the bags. Yet as he does, I instantly return to cold and upset, that inner swell of warmth dissipating fast, my mood trickling away, and I realize what it is almost immediately; a clarity or epiphany like a lightning bolt out of the darkness.
I miss Jake's affection! His touch, his caresses, his hugs. I miss us! That's what this constant anger is.
I miss him touching me freely, without permission or needing to ask for it. I miss the spontaneous, arrogant, 'I can touch you because you're mine' Jake. I miss being picked up, hauled around, and grabbed. I miss the way he would kiss me a million times a day just because he had to, and I miss that body molded to mine, making me feel complete. I miss that I belonged to him, and he never sought my permission to possess me. I owned him, and he owned me, and neither ever needed any urging to take what we needed from one another.
This space between us is what's killing me, knocking me off kilter because Jake is the one who always grounded me. Always brought my sanity back with his affectionate, touchy, 'hands-on Carrero' approach. And he isn't giving it to me anymore.
I watch as he lifts a corner of a bag and ungraciously dumps stuff all over the bed while I try to get a handle on my thoughts and the realization I've come to and what to do about it.
A sudden catch in my throat almost chokes me as a bundle of tiny white baby clothes unfurls before me, shocking me with the unexpectedness of it, completely tearing my thoughts from anything else.
"Jake … You shouldn't. It's too soon." I blurt out in hushed tones. My hands betray me as they automatically pick up a tiny white Babygro in soft velvet fabric. I pick it up to hold it against my abdomen without realizing what I'm doing. It's so tiny and fragile, so real and symbolic. A surge of something wells up inside me, and the urge to cry overwhelms me. It's precious and small, making me think of the little life growing inside me with every breath I take. My heart catches in my throat.
"I … kinda got a bit carried away." He tips up another two bags, pouring out a bundle of blue, a bundle of pink, and one of lemon, plus one fluffy giraffe sitting proudly among them with a goofy grin on its adorable face. It strangely reminds me of Jake, but I can't fathom why.
For the first time in weeks, I get a stupid spontaneous smile spreading across my face, and I stare at him in a completely new light. It's as though I've just woken up, and blinking in the sunlight, I gaze at him as he comes into focus. He looks happy, idling through the stuff on the bed, his green eyes almost luminescent. I've never seen him as gorgeous as he is right now, beaming over his baby's things, looking every bit irresistible to me.
I couldn't fill my heart with more love than this moment. Everything that has happened, everything we've done to one another, yet this little moment here seems to wipe it all out. Just looking at him like this, knowing I've been falling apart without his touch, has me aching. I want him, and I need him so badly. This is making me crazy.
"Kiss me," I say so directly and spontaneously that I even take myself by surprise. His eyes snap to mine, and he seems to take a moment to realize what I've asked. A flash of something in his eyes, hesitation, and something else … apprehension. The tension rises in my stomach with every delayed second.
We seem to stay motionless, looking at one another, while I wait for some verbal response, every moment becoming agony as the pit of self-doubt grows inside me. It's almost like he no longer wants to kiss me.
Shit … I'm losing him. Crazy Emma pushed him too far away. Stupid Emma, you've been pushing him away for weeks despite everything he has done to show you he loves you.
Jake sweeps forward, pinning me to the cushions, his mouth meeting mine in almost a flicker of a second. I don't see the reaction coming, so I'm bowled backward, and before I know what's happening, our mouths are locked, and his hands are cradling my face. That soft, warm mouth, the feelings it rips up to the surface, consumes me, gently molding our movements in perfect unison. His mouth was always made for kissing mine. My toes tingle right up to my pelvis, and my heart aches for him.
He kisses the breath right out of me, moving on top of me on the bed so he can lie over me, yet holding his weight up. He gently slides his tongue into my mouth, a soft yet firm motion, as we get used to one another again. This is so right. I get lost in his feel and what he's doing to me. It feels like he hasn't kissed me in eternity, and it physically pains me. It makes me want to cry.
He tastes as I remember, smells, and feels like my dreams, and with every second of this unity, a part of me starts healing. I groan almost instantly, a thousand butterflies fluttering up inside my stomach, warmth spreading through my veins. My fingers find their way up around his neck and across those muscular shoulders, hair, and jaw. I'm roaming, devouring what I've been lacking for so long.
I wait for the vision of her to break in, wrenching us apart, but I'm too absorbed in the sensations and overwhelming tug of desire building up inside of me to let her in. I push myself into him firmly, intensifying the passion of the kiss, letting our tongues caress, breathing hard and heavily. His intoxicating touch drives my body into a frenzy now that his mouth is locked with mine.
Hormones kick in, and I lose control; arms sliding around his neck fully, I yank him down on top of me; forcefully. I want to wrap every inch of him around me, within me, devour him with a need so overwhelming that I'm going to self-implode. All those pent-up desires unleashed; hormones and heartbreak; anger and lust; I've been denied, love-starved for agonizing weeks; and they come crashing down with a passion that has me yanking his tie off, ripping open his shirt buttons aggressively like a crazed wild cat. Jake pulls away, a hand coming to my wrist, stopping the snaking motion of my nails running down his exposed torso.
"Emma, slow down," he pants, trying to untangle me, but I only dive back in, sucking his lower lip into my mouth and biting him, deprived for too long and turning feral with need. My inner body is combusting with fiery heat, and my lower body is aching with a pang of hunger so intense I want to scream. He automatically releases my wrist and moves down over my breast through the sheer satin of my dress, soaring heat from the sensitivity of it. He moves back into this, losing himself in the lust for a moment, deepening the kiss, his hardness against my pelvis. He wants me just as much as I want him, but he pulls away fast with no warning, lifting his hands in defense.
"Okay, this stops." He kneels back and lifts me up under the arms, pulling me into a sitting position before releasing me, standing back on the floor, expression wild and heaving in the air. "I'm trying so hard to be good, Emma … I can't if you keep doing that." He takes several deep breaths trying to calm his body down. He's completely irresistible like this, standing there with an open shirt and raging hormones clouding any rational thought. His muscles and tanned skin are on show, with ruffled hair, kiss-swollen lips, and lust-fueled hazy eyes trying to control his emotions.
"Maybe I don't want good Jake. Maybe I want normal Jake." I pout angrily. My inner core almost twisting itself into a frenzy of horniness just looking at him.
I want authoritative, no-nonsense Casanova Jake. I need him. I need this. I need sex. I'm so crazy for him right now.
