Chapter Four
chapter four
J ake burst into the room with a flourish, and Kat’s face erupted in a smile. Video chats and phone calls over the past year had made it easy to forget how she felt when he was mere feet from her. He is so damn beautiful, she thought . She silently cursed her body as she felt an instant attraction.
He was nearly a head taller than her five-foot-four frame and had a mop of dark, almost black hair that had a personality of its own. She remembered how his curls could at one moment be perfectly coiled around his face and another minute be facing the sky, which just added to his unpredictable charm. His eyes were a shocking light gray with a hint of green. They had a coolness and depth that unsettled her when he fixed his gaze on her. His nose was lightly speckled with freckles so faint they didn’t show up on screen. In person, his face looked eternally sun kissed.
His features were sharp and angular; in certain perspectives, he almost had a hint of unattractiveness, but on screen, it was captivating. When you saw him through a camera, you could get lost in him, which is one of the reasons he was crowned the “it boy” of the moment. When he came on the big screen, she felt as if his presence altered the very air of the theater.
As he walked toward her, Kat could not take her eyes off him.
J ake breathed out a sigh of relief when Kat smiled as he walked through the door. He’d admonished himself the entire way home for not being there when she arrived. He couldn’t keep from picturing her look of disappointment.
Seeing her smile, he realized his anxiety was unnecessary. Once again, his worry and stress were self-created. It was common for him to navigate stories and scenarios in his head, none of which were based in reality. His mom used to beg him to “stay in the real world, ma belle conteuse ”—“my beautiful storyteller,” she liked to call him. Living life with every emotion always just under his skin, ready to burst to the surface at any minute, was useful to a working actor, but confusing and brutal to a teenager. Jake believed if he had not found acting early in his teens, he may not have survived the conflict constantly raging inside him.
He all but ran over to the kitchen where Kat was sitting and threw his arms around her before she could even snap her laptop closed. She slid off the stool and fell into his hug, almost knocking him over. Jake laughed a real laugh for the first time in weeks, already feeling the consuming heaviness lighten. He engulfed her, wrapping one arm around her waist and another over her shoulder. He knew how their bodies fit together. He felt her body relax into his. He held her a beat longer and gave her one tight final squeeze before releasing her.
He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d missed her. After a year of nonstop work on different sets in foreign locations, he was used to feeling out of place. But at this moment, he felt the familiarity of home: Kat, his family, New York, the rush of the city, all of it. And it felt good.
She stood in front of him in jeans, a light blue sweater, and bare feet. He let his eyes trail across her body. She was fit, but still soft and curvy in all the places that mattered. He’d loved the feel of her when they’d embraced; he’d forgotten how comforting her body felt against his. Her dark blond hair was still slightly damp, strands falling around her face, which was devoid of makeup. He was drawn to her natural look. He lived in a world of beauty, but much of it manufactured.
Having her here, right in front of him, heightened every one of his senses. He drew her into one more embrace just to make sure she was real. He drew in a breath as they broke apart once again. She smelled of the soap he had in the shower, and he felt a wave of comfort because, in that moment, she smelled like him.
Her large, piercing green eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled at him. Her eyes were one of his favorite things about her. They were open windows into her mind: fiery when she was debating a point, commanding when she was working, and twinkling whenever Becca was around. When she looked at him, Jake felt as if her eyes gazed into his soul. He couldn’t believe he’d stayed away from those eyes for so long.
“I can’t believe you’re standing here,” he said, taking a step back. “Hope your flight was okay. I’m so sorry about tonight. We were shooting bridging scenes and pickups, and they take forever. It was the most boring twelve hours of my life. You’re not mad, are you? I mean, I couldn’t really help it.”
He was rambling. He chastised himself, because he couldn’t get his thoughts together like a normal person. He often felt like too many synapses fired in his brain all at once and there was no controlling the onslaught of thoughts that came at him all. damn. day.
She waved away his comments and pulled a second glass off the dish rack. He wondered where she’d found a dish rack … or wine glasses, for that matter. Clearly she already knew her way around his apartment better than he did.
“You look like you need a drink. I started without you,” she said, and flashed him a smile that lit up her entire face.
He grinned at her. He’d painted her with a serious brush in his memories. Always in control. He’d forgotten the playful, fun side to her. He hadn’t known what to expect since they’d had zero communication for months.
The past year had certainly not built upon their relationship. If anything, it should have fractured it , Jake thought. But here she was. She’d shown up when he’d asked. He had done nothing in the past year that would warrant her coming to him. She should have said no , he thought wryly, she should have told me to fuck off . But instead, there she was, filling up his wine glass.
Cabernet. His favorite, a welcome indulgence after the day he’d had. He took a long sip, swallowed, and felt the warmth of red wine run down his throat. He turned the bottle, looked at the label, and said, “Oh, wow. This brings back memories.” He gave her a mischievous grin as he set the bottle back down.
T he wine flooded his body with a distinct, sensory memory of the start of their friendship, forged in the beginning of the pandemic. He’d left his current rental flat in London and had flown home to shelter in place with his parents. He hadn’t lived full-time under their roof since he was seventeen, so being quarantined with them in his twenties was jarring. Gone was his freedom and entire sense of independent livelihood. Jake remembered that period as a time of crushing isolation, trapped in a bubble that quickly became depleted of air. He’d been holding his breath, trying to make sense of an uncertain future.
He’d met Kat when she’d hosted dinner for his family. The two families were an agreed upon “pod” so his parents could continue to help Kat with Becca. Because Jake was rarely home before lockdown, he’d not met Kat until that night. When she was there, he felt like there was more oxygen in their tiny bubble. She was the deep breath he needed, and their friendship came quick.
On Friday nights, it became their routine to share a bottle of cab as soon as Kat’s Zoom meetings had ended and Becca was in bed. That particular night they were lounging on the floor, balcony door open, listening to the eerily silent New York City.
They’d passed the time by looking through scripts that Roger, Jake’s agent, had sent over. Productions had installed safety protocols, and he was desperate to get back to work. They had tried to stay quiet and not wake Becca, but their laughter over the absurd projects had been free flowing. Jake remembered the exact moment he’d decided to shatter their friendship. He’d been warm and happy from too much wine, and the only thing he’d wanted at that moment was to kiss her. He’d stopped laughing, leaned forward, and put his hand on her cheek.
Catching and holding her gaze, Jake had whispered, “Can I kiss you?” With lips only inches away from her, his youthful boldness had bordered on arrogance.
“No,” she’d said, and pulled back, breaking the momentary connection.
“No?” he’d asked, incredulous, the mood momentarily broken. Honestly, no woman had ever told him no. At least, not since he’d been fifteen years old and had finally lost his virginity with Nikki Allen. One thing he’d gotten used to with burgeoning celebrity was that no one ever said no to him.
Kat had looked straight in his eyes and whispered, “Because you’re too young for me. And I’m too broken for you.” Jake had fixed her with an intense stare. He was disarmed by the vulnerability in her response; he’d never wanted anyone more than at that moment.
Again, he’d leaned toward her, whispering, “I’m not that young, Kat. And I like things that are broken.” He gestured to a book on the shelf behind her. “In fact, I have a weird fetish with Humpty Dumpty.” He’d smirked, and she’d let out a laugh.
“Damn you,” she’d whispered, and had crashed her lips into his as if she were angry to be kissing him. She’d nearly knocked him backward, but once he’d processed what was happening, he had put one hand back on her cheek and one on the back of her neck to slow the kiss down. He had wanted to savor the feeling of their lips pressed together, clinging to the one thing that made him feel alive again.
K at watched Jake and could see he was remembering their first night together during the pandemic. His eyes lingered on her, waiting for her commentary. She furrowed her brow at him and spoke, “It’s also my favorite wine. By the way, it was my favorite before and after the Humpty Dumpty incident,” she said, smirking at him.
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked, taking another sip and returning her smirk. His eyes were sparkling. He looked happy, and she started to wonder what had made him call her, near dawn, sounding so desperate and lost. Now, sitting here, they were bantering like they still lived next door to each other.
“Speaking of eggs, are you hungry? Did you eat yet?” she asked. “Unless you’re tired. Oh shit, it’s 12:30 a.m. Man, jet lag feels so weird.” She was so tired that it had seeped into her entire being, and she could no longer discern the difference between levels of exhaustion. He looked drained when she really examined him—she could see it in his body language and the dark shadows under his eyes. She had never seen him look so depleted.
“I don’t sleep much these days. I do need a shower though,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “I am hungry. Starving. I didn’t eat much on set today. Sorry. There’s no food in this apartment. I thought I would get back here much earlier, and we would go out.” He glanced at his watch. “Not sure who delivers this late.”
“Well. You’re lucky I’m here,” she said, her voice light. She reached into his refrigerator and pulled out some eggs and cheese. “I picked these up down the street at Kihoskh. I got here and realized you had nothing, and my crushed pretzels from the plane weren’t going to cut it. How about breakfast for dinner?”
“What? You don’t want a protein shake for dinner?” he asked, gesturing to the empty cabinet. “And it’s technically time for breakfast.” He pointed to the clock on the microwave. “Officially morning,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the bathroom to take a shower.
Kat watched him walk into the other room and felt a familiar flutter in the pit of her stomach. She tried hard to ignore it, but the feeling of his hands running through her hair, his breath on her neck, came rushing back. She’d forgotten the pull of his natural charm and how quickly he captivated her.
S he had been angry months ago when he’d disregarded their plans to meet in New York. But more than angry, she was disappointed. The hurt was deep, and she realized that although her brain agreed to harbor no expectations, her heart certainly had them. She hadn’t talked to him in months, not because his leaving warranted silence, but because it was the only way she could protect herself.
She wanted— needed —to protect herself and wouldn’t let anyone break her any further. Ben’s death had broken her in ways she couldn’t have imagined. Of course, it broke her heart to lose the first real love of her life and the father of her child. That pain, she’d anticipated. But his death had also stolen her ability to see unpredictable possibilities in life.
She now understood how unexpected mortality can come for you, and it altered her entire approach to living. She couldn’t leave anything to chance, because she owed it to Becca to bring stability and safety to the forefront of their lives. If she was honest with herself, she couldn’t remember the last time she allowed herself to take a risk, even if it was for her own happiness.
Actually, she did remember. It was the night she’d first crashed her lips into Jake’s, yearning to feel alive again. And she had felt alive. Until he’d left.
He hadn’t left her ; he’d left the country for his career, which often took him across the globe for months or years at a time. He wasn’t someone who could bring stability into her life. For that reason, she believed that she could desire him, but she needed to keep her walls up so that he didn’t distract her from the real reason she was in Copenhagen.
Yes , she thought, I can keep my distance. After all, I’m really just here for work . She would spend the next ten days getting global experience, gain extra points at work, help Jake through whatever mental demons had driven him to call her the other night, and maybe squeeze in a little fun. She most certainly would not allow herself to fall into him. Not again.
J ake emerged from the bedroom with wet hair, wearing only a pair of soft bamboo shorts. He felt more awake after the shower, and his stomach growled. He walked up behind her as Kat put their breakfast-dinner on two plates. Leaning over her shoulder, he saw her constructing an egg-and-cheese sandwich on a bagel. “Whoa. You didn’t!” he exclaimed. “Are those Liberty Bagels?” She’d packed his favorite bagels, and he felt a rush of affection toward her for remembering.
“Yes! From JFK though. They have a kiosk at the airport now. They’re not as good as the actual bagel shop, but I figured it was better than nothing.” She shrugged.
“You are a legend,” he said, picking up both plates and moving to the table. “Seriously, thank you. This makes me happier than you know.” Taking a bite, he was transported straight back to New York.
He missed home. He’d returned to the city only once in the past year, to attend his grandmother’s funeral. The visit had been fraught with sadness and conflict. He and his parents had fought about how long he had been gone, and they’d all but accused him of abandoning the entire family, including his grandmother, who passed before he could say a proper goodbye. The guilt had eaten away at him until it had transformed into anger, and he’d lashed out.
That fight was why he’d left early, despite asking Kat to come home from San Francisco to see him while he’d been in town. She believed it had been a schedule mix-up, but he’d left the city in a destructive mix of anger and frustration. Afterward, Kat ignored his texts and calls for months, reminding him how unforgiving she was when she was angry.
Tears pricked his eyes, and he fought them back. God, he was a fucking mess. It was egg and cheese on a bagel, and he was ready to cry like a damn baby. He was caught off guard by his own reaction and how fast it washed over him. It was his absolute favorite comfort food in the world and the first thing he ate whenever he was back in the city. She’d remembered, and despite the shitty way the past year had gone, she was here, with an egg-and-cheese. Fuck. He was in trouble if he was already feeling this emotional. He always had a propensity for strong emotion, but he’d tried to bury everything the past year. Bury it all in work, drugs, and sex, all the while convincing himself he was doing just fine.
He gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath through his nose while the tears threatened to fall past his eyelids. He rolled his eyes upward to keep the drops from falling, reconstructing his emotional dam. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed his backpack from the floor near the table, pulled out his G Pen, and loaded a new cannabis oil cartridge. He needed something to tamp down the manic anxiety he could feel just below the surface.
Plopping back down on his chair, Jake slowly inhaled the calming vapors as Kat watched him. She must think I’m crazy , he thought, suddenly flustered by his own conflicting feelings about her sitting across from him. He was simultaneously elated and humbled, while also feeling nervous and agitated. She wasn’t going to let him off easy, and he could see the mix of expectation and concern on her face as her eyes studied him.
“Jake,” she started, “what’s going on with you?” Her tone was soft and considered, and he began to fall apart at the concern in her voice and the unconditional acceptance he saw in her eyes.
He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, knowing the tears were finally going to fall. He didn’t know if it was the wine, the food, or her. But he was close to spiraling into a familiar darkness—one where he often struggled and scrambled to find the light. He didn’t want to drag her with him, but he couldn’t stand to go there alone. Again.
She didn’t speak. Didn’t try to break the tension. Didn’t try to lighten the mood. He appreciated that she was giving him space. He knew they wouldn’t move from the table until he started talking. Kat wasn’t his therapist—he’d had plenty of those—but she was someone he trusted with this side of him. That is why he’d asked her to come. No, almost begged her to come. He cringed internally when he thought about that phone call. It was not his proudest moment. He’d smoked a lot of weed, and instead of calming him down, it had skyrocketed his anxiety. The only person he believed would answer the call was her. He’d never expected her to say yes, but she had, and now she was here, sitting in front of him, asking him to show his broken self to the only person he trusted to pick up the pieces.
He inhaled and started talking. “What’s going on with me? I wish I fucking knew what is wrong with me. For one, this film. This is my big one. I feel like everyone is watching me, seeing if I’m good enough to carry this big of a film.” He shook his head. He was aware of his fast rambling, but he couldn’t organize his thoughts. “And right now, Kat, I’m just not good. The one thing I know I’m good at is acting. It’s the only thing I’m naturally great at”—he paused to take a drink—“and right now, I go to set every day and I’m just fucking it up. Take after take after take.” He leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on the back legs.
He felt a dam burst inside him and it all tumbled out: the disconnection from the role, the disappointment of the director, the frustration of the crew, the general sense that he was letting everyone around him down. And he didn’t know how to fix it. Garren had asked him what his process was and what he needed. The issue was that he didn’t know his process. He just was . He just did it. He knew when it was right. And he knew when it was wrong. And right now, it was very wrong.
“I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, but I feel outside myself, like I’m watching myself in a movie. A bad, straight-to-streaming, like free streaming, shit-bag movie. My own life is a bad film on repeat,” he said, laughing at his own dramatic characterization of his situation.
But he didn’t find anything funny. He was confused, and it was finally hitting him how scared he really was. “I mean, this is the largest film I’ve ever done. And it’s mine. I’m the lead.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What if I’m only built for small indie films? What if I can’t carry this big of a film? What if I am not what everyone wants me to be … expects me to be.…”
There. He said it out loud. The thing he was most afraid of. His heart raced, and he could barely control his panic as he heard his own voice admit his failing. There were artistic and monetary expectations of him. Expectations to rise up to the level of blockbuster stardom, and he was beginning to believe he was going to be a huge disappointment. And, given the nature of being a celebrity, it would be a very public disappointment.
Kat was quiet. Jake stopped talking and wished she would say something. She finally spoke, “I know you think you have no process, but there have to be ways you’ve connected to films before. What’s different this time?”
He appreciated her pointed question, even though he didn’t have the answer. Jake shrugged his shoulders. He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. “I. Do. Not. Know.” He rubbed his eyes with his long, slender fingers.
Kat reached out, took his hands, and looked at him with such intensity that he wanted to look away, but he was caught in her gaze. “Jake. I see you and I know how much work you put into every role you take on. I have never heard you this stressed about the size of a film. Maybe focus more on the role and the character and less on the scale of the film? I don’t have answers, but I know we can figure this out.”
He squeezed her hand, comforted by the “we” in her sentence. It was hard for him to admit that he needed someone to help sort out what was going on in his head. He gave her a half smile and said, “One thing that makes me happy is that you’re here, Kat. I feel crazy for asking you to come like two thousand miles because my confidence is shaken. Who does that?”
She gestured toward him and said, “You do. And it was more like three thousand, eight hundred sixty-four, but who’s counting?”
He let out a full laugh. Yes , he thought, she’s right . He was the kind of person impulsive enough to ask her to come over three thousand miles. He rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn. He looked at the time. “Kat. It’s 2:30 a.m. I’m beat. Are you tired?” The weed made him sleepy, and his entire body felt heavy.
She gave his hand a squeeze and yawned. “Dying. I feel like I’m dying. I need to sleep. Like two hours ago.”
Her candor made him laugh. He realized he’d been talking nonstop for almost a full hour. “Thanks for listening, by the way,” he said, leaning forward. “But let’s get to bed.” Jake nodded toward the bedroom behind them.
Kat stood up and put their plates in the sink. “So, sleeping. How do you want to do this? I just assumed you had a two-bedroom, but.…” She gestured toward the single bedroom door on the other side of the apartment.
“I have a king. Plenty of space.” When Kat raised her eyebrows at him, he smirked. “Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s just a bed and there’s plenty of room. I’m too tall for that couch, and I’m certainly not going to ask you to come three thousand, eight hundred sixty-four miles just to sleep in a hotel or on some shitty couch in a temporary rental.”
Jake had called because he’d needed and wanted her presence. He didn’t want her to think he’d called her all the way to Denmark for a hookup. It was more than that—how much more, he hadn’t really processed—but he’d let her take the lead on anything physical during her stay. He didn’t know if time and distance had created too much space for them to reignite what they’d had. All he knew was at his lowest point, the only person he’d wanted was her, and that meant something.
“My mind is far from the gutter,” Kat grumbled. “I just hope you don’t snore or kick in your sleep. I already live with a pint-sized bed hog.” Jake chuckled in response as they walked into the bedroom. He went over to the side he usually slept on, sat down, and gestured to the bathroom. “You go first.”
After a moment Kat called out from behind the bathroom door. “You have more beauty products in here than I use in an entire year.”
He laughed. “If your face was photographed every day of your life, you would have a lot too. This million-dollar face needs to stay young.” He took out his contacts, and as he put drops in his eyes he continued, “I think I saw my first laugh line yesterday.”
Kat swung open the bathroom door. “Ahh … now I know why you really called me.” She teased. Jake rolled his eyes at her. She walked past him wearing a loose tank top and frayed pajama shorts. Despite his resolve, Jake’s body reminded him of their physical history. He had a strong desire to touch her, draw her into him, but he wanted to give her space, not to mention he was dead tired. He pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and patted the pillow. “No snoring, at least, I think,” he said, “and I won’t hog unless you do.”
After she climbed in, Jake went to brush his teeth. When he came back, Kat was already fast asleep.