We get to the airfield in the dark. Marissa is traveling with us, invading my territory and I resent her
presence. She’s wearing Jake’s sunglasses over her pale face, despite the late hour; I’m guessing she
has puffy eyes from crying, and even that tiny little detail causes me so much internal trauma. Those
glasses are always meant for me, not her.
She looks effortlessly seductive in a clingy cream dress, showcasing her curves and long curled hair.
She hasn’t said one word since the tense meeting in the room as we left and then drove over here in
hostile silence. I avoid looking at her, and him, he’s ushering her onto the plane like she’s some
petulant child. His hand occasionally touching her lightly to guide her and burning my soul. He’s
avoided me since he left my room, his manner toward me is cool and distant and I can’t stand it.
Maybe it’s better like this. There’s been icy silence, avoidance of eye contact between any of us and an
atmosphere so thick you could slice it with a knife. Marissa is acting like I don’t even exist and hasn’t
once looked my way. Not that I care. That flawless face and pouting mouth only ignite my internal rage
and I wonder how she would look with my laptop rammed down her throat.
I sit alone on the left of the aisle and pull out my laptop to give me something to focus on, besides the
last few hours. I don’t want to open my mind to what I did with him, and I can’t bring myself to look at
him with her. I don’t want to see his blank expression, devoid of any emotion, cutting me off.
They both go to sit over the aisle, facing one another across a small table. I try not to watch as she
attempts a reach at his hand. My stomach tightens but he removes it from the table, returning it to his
lap coolly and they sit in silence, tension heavy. I want him to move and sit somewhere else, away from
her, or across from me instead. He doesn’t.
I watch from the corner of my eye, breath held, she’s pouting at him, but he ignores her. Shifting in his
seat so that he can look out of the window instead, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say to either of
us. I guess Jake has never had to deal with a messy situation like this before. He never really overlaps
women so that any come face to face. And anyone he dates normally knows it’s temporary and doesn’t
make a fuss. This, however, is beyond awkward. Two women who actually love him and want more.
Although he only knows about her because I’ll never admit it.
* * *
I attempt to work through the flight as I have enough to keep me occupied, to pretend to anyway, and
I’m aware of him for the entire journey. His closeness across the aisle, his scent lingering between us.
We’re not far apart, but it feels like there’s a canyon between us. A million miles of vast baron land and
he’s so un-reachable, like I’ve lost him.
He’s using his laptop, but unlike me he’s not as focused and wired into it the way I’m trying to be, he
keeps staring pensively out of the window and fixing a blank gaze at the darkness outside. His mood is
preoccupied. I wonder what he’s thinking about and it tugs at me. I long to know what’s keeping his
head busy as he stares silently into nothing.
Is he thinking about what we did? Or is he thinking about the baby and her? I want to know how you
feel, Jake, about all of it. This is sheer agony.
I long to be alone with him and have him tell me what’s going on in that dark look and still face. I know I
never will again, we’ve reached an impasse. The only way forward doesn’t bear thinking about and I
was right about what would happen.
I try not to look at Marissa, now sound asleep in her chair, his sunglasses still in place on her flawless
face. We contrast in so many ways so only our hair color matches. She’s small and curvy with deep
dark eyes and a sensual mouth, everything about her scream’s exotic beauty. Her figure curvy, yet not
overweight, her breasts larger than average and they look natural. She’s a born seductress in every
way and I never stood a chance against her. We’re unevenly matched.
How could I ever compare to her?
I’m small and petite with average curves, average face, average Emma. Pale and blonde with no sexy
skills at all. She’s the first girl he ever loved, and now she’s carrying his child. She isn’t some damaged
mess, unable to relax and let Jake in fully, she’s not some girl he just screwed out of frustration on the
bedroom floor to cure weird tension between us.
That was me!
I watch him longingly, knowing I never stood a chance against him, or with him. How could I? Some
worthless little tramp from Chicago with hopes of grandeur, no way of knowing how to deal with the
force that is Jake Carrero. I have deluded myself for so long. He’s always been out of my
league.
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