“Study what?” Jake regards me with interest, a small quirk of a smile on the corner of his mouth and
Sylvana is watching me with an equally warm expression. Encouraging is the word that comes to mind
when I look at them both.
Is this what family does when you have some hair brained idea you want to try?
“I was thinking I could, maybe, possibly try becoming a counselor of sorts…You know to work with kids
who ummm …” I lose the courage again and focus on my fingers as they make their way to my hair,
nervous fidgeting habit coming back to haunt me; saying it aloud sounds dumb.
What do I know about helping other kids?
“… came from abused backgrounds and broken families?” Jake finishes my sentence, taking my hand
away from my hair, calming me, like he always does. I glance up at him and nod, shyly, as he focuses
on me with an encouraging smile.
“I think that would be pretty amazing and not just for the kids you could help, Emma, but I think for you
too.” He gets up and slides his chair back, walking around the table behind me, leans down, wrapping
his arms around my shoulders, kisses me on the neck and buries his face in my soft hair to nuzzle me.
Telling me that he’s fully on board with my plan and making me feel a hundred times surer.
“I think that is a spectacularly selfless plan, Emma.” Sylvana beams at me. “I’m pretty sure with my
connections I could help you along the way, help you find your feet and direction. If helping kids from
the same abusive situation you were in, is what you really want to do?” She literally shines at me and
my courage returns tenfold.
And there it is … Sylvana says it so effortlessly, like it’s not some shamefully, horrible, ugly secret, just
a common piece of knowledge between the people close to one another in the room and I don’t feel
anything like I used too.
No shame, no pain, no anything. Just Jake’s arms around me and when he straightens and runs a
hand down my hair igniting the usual thrill of shivers and heat, it comes to me in a flash.
My past doesn’t hurt me anymore. I’m not ashamed of it. I gaze adoringly at the man I love, as he
moves back to his seat glancing at me with equal infatuation, and I feel different. I’m sat taller, my chin
held higher and my expression migrates to a bright smile.
That kid from Chicago who separated herself into different versions and locked boxes has somehow
come crashing back together again into one complete person. Her past no longer a deep dark secret
she hides from those who she thought would run from her if they knew … because here they are,
sitting facing her, with love and care despite knowing about it all. They don’t look at her as though she’s
some broken or dirty shell, they don’t look at her the way her own flesh and blood did. They accept her
and love her even more for the scars she bares … a real family with real love.
I’m not broken anymore; I am whole and only one piece of my puzzle remains out of place. I’m going to
have to face my mother and the fact that she will never give me what I’ve been trying to get from her
my entire life.
Her love.
The difference now is I no longer need it.
“Baby, wait until I’m back to do this?” Jake is trying to tug the case out of my hands. We’re back in the
Manhattan apartment and have been for a couple of days, overseeing the packing of some of his
favorite items and our clothes to be shipped to the Hamptons. The journey home was sickness free and
I’m starting to feel a lot better these days. I am starting to feel great, especially now that I have the full
undivided attentions of my lover once more and he’s only too willing to keep me satisfied.
“No, I told you. I’ll take Mathews if you’re so damned hell bent on me having an escort. I’m sure he’s a
major in karate kill whatsits or some other nonsense. I know you spar with him in the gym downstairs
sometimes, so he must be a deathly ninja of some kind to put up with your crazy martial art commando
ways.” I huff back, trying to wrestle the handle free from his annoyingly strong grip.
“Emma, I said no!” Jake yanks the case out of my
hands, throwing it behind him on the floor. The contents splay everywhere in a crazy dramatic fashion. I
square
up and glare at him angrily. So seriously not in the
mood for immature bossy dickhead Carrero right now.
“Are you telling me what to do?” I stick out my chin defiantly. My rage bubbling forth at the return of one
stroppy domineering asshole I thought I stupidly missed.
Ha fucking ha.
“I am the guy you’re marrying and the father of that fucking baby. If you dare step foot in Chicago
without me then I’ll seriously lose my shit.” He’s scary right now with his blazing green eyes and tense
stubbly jaw. Scary in a sexy male model ‘who could possibly use his top coming off to cool him down’
sort of way.
Really, Emma, sex while you’re raging at him?
Hormones!
“I lived there my whole life, Jake. I’m sure I can handle Chicago, and stop yelling at me … I don’t
particularly appreciate the swearing either.” I stomp and pull my height up to meet his, unsuccessfully
seeing as he’s six feet two and I’m barely scraping five-foot four. He’s glaring down at me, anger
emanating from every pore. His aggressive psycho mode that does absolutely nothing to me.
“Last time you went alone some guy hurt you in the fucking stairwell. You’re never going there alone
again and your mother … Don’t even get me started on her because last time she fucking crushed
you.” He is radiating pure aggressive dominance, an alpha male asshole but I am not backing down on
this.
“I’m not the same anymore, Jake. I’m stronger and stop it.” I slap him in the abdomen churlishly. “Stop
talking down to me like I’m your PA.” He doesn’t even flinch when my palm connects with his hard six
pack.
Or is it eight? Hard to count as when I’m usually on that body, I’m preoccupied.
“Emma!” He has his gritted teeth voice on, and the bunching muscles of a severely pissed off Carrero.
“I have to go for two days, that’s all, two fucking days to oversee this crap and then I’ll take you myself.
I’ll drive there and back. Until then I’ll lock you in this apartment and tell Mathews I’ll fucking fire him if
you step one foot in his car.” He seethes at me; pretty sure breathing fire would be one of his things if it
was physically possible.
I step back at the wave of his rage and lift my chin a tiny bit higher, inner Emma refusing to be
railroaded by this cocky arrogant ass.
“Jake if you dare try to intimidate me right now I’ll not only get a fucking train to Chicago, carrying my
case by myself, but I’ll go as soon as it’s dark and you’re gone and not even take a goddamn phone, so
you can’t track my cell or call me.” I threaten, smugly. Not phased one bit by his show of scary.
There’s nothing Jake would hate more than that! He’d go into worried protective overload and maybe
blow a brain cell … or three thousand.
We have a monumental angry stare off, rage bubbling between us but I simply don’t care. I’m not
scared of Jake’s little moods anymore, or him storming off with hurt feelings, and I’m sure as hell not
scared of any little consequences. Somewhere along the way I’ve realized that I have nothing to worry
about when it comes to Jake and if anyone is going to be leaving anyone it will be me. This right here is
not the behavior I am about to put up with for the rest of my married life and he should learn that fast!
“You wouldn’t dare, Emma.” That nasty growl does nothing for me. If anything, it makes me want to
unbutton his pants but we’re so not doing sex right now.
Maybe later!
“Try me.” I bite back, my defiant, hormonal mood in full swing, and he straightens up, that tiny smirk
twitching to his mouth breaking his scowling intimidation in a second. He rubs a hand across his face
and scrubs it for a second. I guess all his posturing is just a very convincing act if he’s so quick to
chuck it aside.
Hmmmmm.
“You, woman, are going to be the absolute death of me.” He sighs heavily and reaches out, tugging me
toward him, planting a kiss on my mouth, cupping my jaw with both hands, and burying his fingers in
my hair. Sighing in defeat because he knows there is not a thing he can possibly do to me.
You’re so whipped Jake.
“I don’t want you to go.” His tone is softer, gentler and he’s obviously changing tactics, but my minds
made up. I know all his devious little manipulations, he’s going in for soft and tender, but if that fails,
he’ll pull out the sex strategy.
And, well, sex I can never resist, especially his kind, so I better get this stopped now, since my head
has been heading that way for the last twenty minutes.
“Jake, please don’t make me beg you to do this. Let me do what I need to do to move on in life.” I flutter
my lashes at him and give him my sincerest wide-eyed look of adoration.
There’s a flicker of doubt in his eye and I know I have him over a barrel. Two can play that emotional
card Jake.
“Arghhhh.” He raises his palms in agitation and paces away from me and back again.
“I’ll fucking beg, do you want me on my knees right now?” He pleads in an annoyed tone. Maybe not
ready to let this go just yet.
Depends what you’re planning on doing down there.
“Stop being so melodramatic.” I sigh and turn away, leaning down to pick up my case but Jake grabs
my wrist to stop me from bending. He scoops instead, throwing everything on the bed, and I can’t help
but smile. I stand watching him with folded arms. He’s a stroppy ass but even in a mood he’s still taking
care of his pregnant woman.
“I’m not happy about this at all.” He’s back to brimming with sourness but I pinch his butt as I walk past
him to the bed and smile. He throws me a look of indulgence and I sigh.
“So, I see.” I flip the case over and start folding my clothes again, sliding things in neatly and slowly,
bringing some order back to the mess he made. Un-phased by the amount of death ray looks aimed
my way as he watches me painfully.
“Fuck’s sake!” Jake snaps and my case is yanked off the bed and thrown behind him again, like a child
having a meltdown. It’s going to be a very long night if things carry on at this rate. I really should check
his birth certificate sometime and make sure he is not actually a five-year-old in a man’s body.
“Are you really going to keep doing that?” I’m not angry anymore, just amused by the temper and
childishness
of my husband to be. The massive man child I used to love working for has come back in full fury. If it
wasn’t frustrating to keep refolding the same clothes, I would be laughing
at him right now.
“Yes.” He sulks and glares at me, knowing he’s not winning this argument one iota, so he’s stropping
about instead.
Sulky Jake—Oh lord.
62fb1bb41dcb31934bd49bda