Chapter 17
By the time we’re nearing the flat it is officially dinner time and I’m starving.
Do I ask Jake if he wants to stay for dinner?
That’s what a normal couple would do, right?
Then again, I probably don’t have anything in – I could ask him if he wants a takeaway?
I know, not exactly wife material, but I’m not exactly his wife, so that checks out.
Jake walks beside me with the easy confidence of someone who has done this before – of course he most certainly hasn’t, because who has?
I think it’s just his way, his laid-back approach.
I can’t imagine anything that could stress him out; he’s so easy-going, so cool in a crisis.
I’m tempted to say it’s annoying, but I’m probably just jealous, because I overthink every damn thing – including how much I overthink things.
He reaches for the door before I do, catching my eye.
‘Allow me,’ he says.
Ugh, he’s such a gentleman, and not in a cheesy way. It’s the kind of suave that weakens your knees.
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
When the flat door opens, the noise hits us.
The clatter of pans, the low hum of the extractor fan, the unmistakable smell of Italian food.
Cordelia is cooking, Andy is setting the table.
They both look so at home together, so domestic, so comfortable.
Like they’ve been doing this together for longer than they actually have.
And I feel like a stranger who is intruding.
Andy looks up first. His face lights up automatically when he sees me, then flickers, only for a fraction of a second, when he spots Jake at my side. It’s subtle, but I catch it. I always catch it.
‘Oh, hello,’ Andy says, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘You’re here – both of you.’
‘Hi,’ I reply, advancing deeper into the flat, deliberately leaning into Jake’s space as I do it, letting my shoulder brush his arm.
Jake dips his head politely.
‘Evenin’.’
Oof!
Cordelia turns from the cooker, wooden spoon in hand, eyes bright as ever.
‘Oh! You’re here,’ she practically sings. ‘Perfect timing. I made pasta – you’re welcome to join us.’
‘Great,’ I blurt – why did I say great? It’s not great. I’d rather sit and eat the sofa. ‘Sounds great.’
Great – again.
‘Smells real good,’ Jake says, taking off his hat. ‘Thank you.’
Andy’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of us, then lingers a second too long on where Jake’s hand has settled at the small of my back. I suppose it must be as weird for him to see me suddenly not single as it is for me seeing him with someone. We’ve both been so single for so long.
‘Come in,’ Andy says, a little too briskly. ‘Make yourselves at home.’
I almost laugh. Almost. This is my home.
We do exactly that. Jake slips his jacket off and hangs it on the hook like he’s done it a hundred times before. He wanders into the kitchen, peering curiously into the pan.
‘What’s in it?’ he says to Cordelia.
‘Secret family recipe,’ she tells him, playfully waving the spoon at him. ‘You’ll have to wait and see – it’s ready, you guys timed it perfectly and I made plenty.’
Perfectly, or some might say terribly.
We sit down to eat, the four of us around the table that suddenly feels smaller than it ever has.
Conversation flows easily enough at first. Work updates.
Wedding logistics. Stories from their time together in Australia, which, I don’t know, I feel like Andy hid from me while he was away.
He didn’t mention Cordelia once. I suppose at first it wasn’t anything and then, when it felt serious, he wanted to tell me in person but, wow, I know it felt like he was away forever, but it definitely didn’t feel like long enough for him to find the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
Jake plays his part beautifully. He asks questions.
He listens. He laughs at the right moments.
He reaches for my glass to top it up without asking, like it’s a habit.
When I tell a story, he turns his body toward me, attentive, like he’s heard it all before, and yet he still wants to hear it again.
He even takes my hand, holding it in his, giving it a gentle squeeze now and then.
I don’t know if it’s because JJ told him to, or to remind me I’m doing okay, but, either way, I appreciate it.
‘How was your meeting with JJ?’ Andy asks. ‘Has she finally got you a book deal?’
He always asks, and I always say no. But now I have a different answer.
‘Actually, since our viral moment, JJ says there’s lots of interest in me as a romance writer, so here’s hoping,’ I reply. ‘If not, I’m sure she could get me on the next series of Welcome to Singledom.’
‘They’re usually in their twenties, aren’t they?’ Cordelia says innocently.
I mean, I was only kidding, but is she trying to say I’m too old?
Dinner winds down and Cordelia and Andy insist they clean up.
I watch them move around each other in the kitchen, again, so natural together, like maybe they were already living together while they were in Australia.
I don’t want to watch it. It almost hurts, to see them so happy.
I can only think of one way to retaliate – but I definitely haven’t thought it through.
‘We’re going to pop into my room for a bit,’ I blurt, standing up.
Andy freezes.
‘Oh! Okay,’ Cordelia replies. ‘You don’t want dessert?’
‘I think we’re all good,’ Jake says with a grin, following my lead.
I take Jake by the hand, because obviously he has no idea which room is mine, leading the way.
Andy’s gaze follows us as we walk down the hall. I don’t look back, but I can feel his eyes on me, like lasers shooting into my back. When we get to my bedroom, I close the door quietly behind us and let out a long breath.
‘Well,’ Jake murmurs. ‘That was interestin’.’
‘You’re very convincing,’ I compliment him. ‘Are you sure you haven’t done this before?’
‘My first time,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Nice room.’
‘Oh, er, thanks,’ I say.
I really didn’t think through bringing him in here, because what are we supposed to do now? We’re essentially trapped in here.
‘Your family?’ he asks, nodding towards a picture of me, my parents and my sister, taken on the family holiday we took to Disneyland in the noughties.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
He smiles.
‘You look happy.’
‘I was,’ I say, then wince. ‘I mean, I am – but I was really happy to be at Disneyland. I must have gone on the Small World ride six times.’
‘Is this where you write?’ he asks, examining my desk. He picks up an eyeliner and examines it, smiling when he realises it isn’t a pen.
‘Sometimes. When the mood strikes,’ I reply. ‘But I much prefer writing on my laptop somewhere comfortable. I don’t know why, something about being curled up, holding my laptop close; it feels more intimate. The desk feels too formal sometimes.’
‘I get that,’ he replies. ‘But you’re talkin’ to the guy who is only happy when he’s working outside.’
The sound of the TV travels in from the living room, muffled through the walls. It sounds like Andy and Cordelia have settled in.
Jake glances at the door, then back at me.
‘So… what’s the plan?’
‘I guess we wait,’ I say. ‘Make it seem like we’re… hanging out in here.’
‘We can do that,’ he says with a nod.
We sit on the edge of the bed, careful to keep a polite distance, and talk quietly about nothing in particular.
He asks about the books on my shelf. I ask about Texas.
He tells me a story about a horse that escaped during a storm and how he spent two hours tracking it through muddy fields.
You can tell that he really cares about animals and it makes me glad that I’m helping him, because even I can see already that he’s perfect for Rosewood, and that Arty is worrying about nothing, judging him for being single – that definitely touches a nerve with me.
Eventually, the clock ticks past ten and the TV volume drops. We hear footsteps, then the low murmur of voices passing by my door.
‘Looks like they’re finally headin’ to bed,’ Jake says.
‘Thank God,’ I blurt, not meaning it to sound as unfriendly as it does.
A few minutes later, the flat goes quiet.
‘Okay,’ I whisper. ‘We need to get you out.’
‘Sneakin’ out of a girl’s bedroom,’ he jokes. ‘I’ve seen that in the movies.’
We leave the room together, heading for the door where Jake grabs his things.
‘I’ll just tell them you had to head out early,’ I say. ‘Will you be okay, getting back to Rosewood? I guess you could stay…’
‘Ah, that’s alright, I can take a cab,’ he replies. ‘But thanks for the offer.’
I suppose I should be relieved, I’ve avoided a cliché, the old ‘there’s only one bed’ that crops up in romcoms. I need to remember that my life isn’t actually a romcom; I’m only pretending it is.
‘I’ll see you there tomorrow, for the meeting?’ he checks.
‘I’ll be there,’ I say.
‘I guess now would be the time I’d kiss ya, if anyone was watching,’ he says with a smile. ‘Good job we got those boundaries, huh?’
‘Haha, right,’ I reply. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’
‘Night, Whit.’
I lock the door behind him and lean against it, exhaling.
Wow, I don’t know what it is, but I simply cannot be cool around him. Hopefully, it helps us sell the story of the two of us, if I’m all googly-eyed, but still.
I know, I know, it’s all fake. But imagine if he had kissed me…