Chapter 209

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, 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 up into tiny shreds.

The stuff with Marissa still claws at my brain every day. 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’s completely unhealthy, hanging over me like some doom and gloom
cloud of tension. It just intensifies my anger when it hits, and I know a time will come that I’ll blow up at
him, an outlet for all the crazy inside of me.



“Jake loves you and he’s repenting for his sins. If he can’t handle all you’re throwing at him now babe,
then 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, 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
it’ll be me 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,
no, 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 sense of heartbreak I get whenever I even
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 a sort of 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 needed 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, him and
Mathews laughing over something. He sounds happy and it tugs at my heart, 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, the urge to go to him overwhelms me. At least there’s a part of me that
still wants him just as much as I did before; and 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 a multitude of 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 just 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 in that way and part of me wonders how I would react if he
did just that; if he took away my choice to try kissing 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 own thoughts, contemplating calling Leila, swiping to her face
among my contacts, and telling her, when I’m suddenly hoisted up in 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 fluttering 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 of late.

Severely lacking.

“Maybe.” I reply softly looking away shyly. It feels weird to be nose to nose again. It feels like an age
has passed since we were this close while awake. I’m suddenly nervous, and awkward, like I used to
be before I knew he loved me.

“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 at all. I sound like the
old me.

“Technically, they’re not for you, bambino.” 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 to
just 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 very 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 instantly; 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 and without permission and without 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 looked for my permission in possessing 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 go to
automatically pick up a tiny white Babygro in soft velvet fabric. I’m picking it up to hold against my
abdomen without even realizing what I’m doing. It’s so tiny and fragile, so real and symbolic. A surge of



something wells up inside of 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, then one fluffy giraffe sitting proud among them with a goofy grin on its
adorable face. It strangely reminds me of Jake, but I can’t fathom why.


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