Chapter 17
seventeen
I want to hate everything about the deal I made with Jake. I desperately want him to be wrong about what I need when he’s been absent for over a decade. He shouldn’t know me at all. But damn it, he does. Knows what I need more than I do. Why the hell does he have to be right?
He makes it nearly impossible to hold any resentment toward him when he lightens my load every single day. I teeter between wanting to punch him in the face and sobbing on his shoulders for making my life a little easier. Being my support system when my fiancé has been MIA and barely talks to me.
If people still updated their Facebook status or AIM away messages, mine would read “It’s CoMpLiCateD” with an obscure song lyric thrown in to convey my feelings, even though no one would get the music reference, except Jake.
Damn it.
Am I finally falling victim to his magical charm that seems to spellbind every other woman in the world? How do I make it stop?
I cover my face with an extra pillow on the bed and mindlessly scream into it, grateful Jake started staying at his mom’s house last night and doesn’t hear me lose my shit.
The man confuses the hell out of me. Doesn’t pick up a goddamn phone in fifteen years, but ensures I have a healthy lunch and dinner every day with strategic sweet and salty snacks strewn throughout the house.
He spends two hours discussing the pros and cons of my wedding mood board options, debating the merits of petal pink and dusty rose.
I scream into my pillow again before throwing it across the room and pulling the comforter over my head. What is wrong with me? Am I being punked? There’s no way this can really be my life. None of it makes any sense.
“Morning, Kate. Are you up?” Jake calls from outside my room as he knocks on the door. “I have a surprise for you.”
What’s he doing here so early? Or at all? We don’t have plans until lunch. I open my door to find Jake holding two coffees and a white bag that probably contains my favorite pastries. It’s sweet and annoying. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to make sure you had breakfast before your back-to-back meetings. Ran to The Daily Grind to get you coffee, a cream cheese danish, and a chocolate croissant.” He gives me a sheepish smile as he looks me up and down. “Cute PJs, by the way.”
Of course, he has to see me wearing a pair of tattered flannel pajamas from my high school days because I didn’t have a chance to do any laundry. Talk about scraping the bottom of the clothes barrel. “You didn’t have to get me breakfast.”
“I know. You need someone looking out for you. I have the time and want to do it,” he replies, like there is nothing else he’d rather do at this ungodly hour than get me coffee.
“And don’t tell me you don’t need two pastries.
You’re going to get hangry before lunch if you only eat one.
Your colleagues don’t deserve to deal with hangry Kate.
It’s not pretty. You can get mean when you’re not properly fed.
” He grins so big that two dimples appear as he crosses his arms and leans against my doorframe.
Practically daring me to argue with him.
Where is my pillow? I need to scream into it again. How does this man know my inner thoughts?
“I don’t get hangry,” I say defensively, returning to my bed and sipping on my coffee. Nothing gives you that morning high like the first taste of coffee. The sweet nectar of the gods.
“Is that so? Hmmm. There must be another reason for your loud, angry typing when it’s close to noon. Or why I worry I might lose an arm if I reach for the pizza at dinner before you’ve grabbed a slice,” he replies and freaking winks at me.
I groan and roll my eyes. Part of me wants to prove a point and refuse both pastries, except they smell delicious, and I don’t have that kind of willpower when it comes to sweets.
Begrudgingly, I bite into the slightly warm cheese danish, and it tastes like heaven, causing me to release a small, uncontrollable moan.
He walks into my room, leaning in until his warm breath is on my ear. “Sounds like another satisfied customer.” He switches his position, standing and pushing his hands into the pockets of his snug jeans. His eyes darken as he watches me intently.
My breath hitches, and my skin flushes as an indescribable jolt of electricity wakes up each of my nerves.
What in the hell is happening to me? Why is my body reacting to him like this? His words. His voice.
This is insane.
I’m engaged. He’s nothing more than a friend.
I must be coming down with a bug. That’s why I feel so flushed and tingly. Probably going to end up with a cold or the flu in the next couple of days.
Jake doesn’t move, keeping his eyes focused on me. “I’ll be back around noon to pick you up for lunch. Already ordered it and made sure to get your mom’s favorite salad. Dinner is covered, too. Anything else you need before I head out?”
I sit flabbergasted on my bed. When did he become responsible?
How is that possible? Every story I’ve heard claims he’s still the wild, carefree guy I knew growing up.
Yet, he’s stepping up in a big way now. It’s unnerving, making me question what he really wants.
“I don’t need anything. You don’t have to do all of this. I can—”
“I know you’re capable. I want to help. You need it and never ask for it. Never have. Let me help you.” His eyes soften, and I wonder if he needs to help me as badly as I need his help. Maybe doting on me is part of his healing process. “Please.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at lunch. Thanks again for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome. See you in a few hours. Text me if anything comes up. I’ll be on calls with Jason and writing most of the day, so I’m flexible if you need me.”
I nod and take another sip of my coffee to prevent myself from speaking. Unsure of what might come out of my mouth at this moment.
He stares at me for a few brief seconds before leaving without another word.
Ravenous, I eat my breakfast and nurse my coffee, trying to understand what just happened. What’s been happening with him. What it all means.
Back in Chicago, I’m the person who gets shit done.
The one who gets the biggest projects and the most demanding clients.
The person who handles all the cooking and cleaning at my condo.
The bride-to-be expected to tackle wedding planning on her own.
Everyone claims these responsibilities fall on my shoulders because I’m good at them, and they’re not wrong.
Tackling a to-do list and striving for perfection are some of my best qualities.
It’s also exhausting and lonely—especially the mental load.
My head drops as I sigh deeply, realizing Jake is helping with that.
Taking care of things without needing me to ask.
Examining the situation and acting. Giving less to worry about.
I’ve never experienced that before. Usually, when people offer to help, they need their supplies organized and a detailed list from me, outlining what to do.
Jake doesn’t require any of that. He just handles it.
It makes me want to trust him. Believe he won’t abandon me again. Not like he did in the past or my dad before him. He promises this time will be different, but I know his career won’t be flexible forever. He’ll need to leave, and it’ll destroy me if he cuts me out of his life again.
Tears sting my eyes as I gently shake my head, not wanting to think of that possibility.
Choosing to bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is going to be fine.
Savor the moments of having my childhood best friend back.
Enjoy the fun adventures he’s planning. Rely on him for as long as I can.
And keep up the walls around my heart. Not let him back in fully until I know he won’t hurt me.
I can’t let him have that power over me again. My heart won’t survive.