Page 105 of Into the Dark
“Fucking shitting it.”
I laugh softly as I squeeze his hand. “Why?”
He meets my eye. “Because it was you.”
“I make you nervous?”
He gives a faint smile. “Yeah, Alex, you do. You still do.”
“Why?” I gaze at him, perplexed.
He stares at me for a long time. “Because you’re perfect,” he says simply. “And because I was sure you were gonna spend five minutes in my company and realize how ridiculously out of my league you are.” The ease with which he says this stuff still renders me speechless at times.
“Well, that never happened, did it? I spent five minutes in your company and fell insanely in love with you, so you’ve no reason to be nervous ever again.”
Jake gives me this smile—one I’ve never seen before, so completely open and warm and filled with love, and my breath catches in my throat. “Well, aren’t you a fucking charmer?” he says quietly, that particular smile lingering long after.
The ninja waiter doesn’t startle me when he brings out our starters. Jake’s soup looks divine. A hot, steaming bowl of goodness, from which wisps of fragrant steam rise temptingly. While we eat we talk about Caleb, and Rob’s honeymoon, and how we should go away together somewhere, just the two of us. The destination moves from Scotland to Europe to California to visit Tash. I need for her to meet him—Nick too, in fact. Tash will love him, I’m certain. And Nick will do his usual big brother thing, but then he’ll come around.
But whenever I imagine their reaction when I tell them about the baby, it isn’t a picture filled with anything warm and joyful. Nick and Tash are both pragmatists like me. They’ll say it’s too soon, which of course it is, and then they’ll ask if I’ve really thought about things properly, which of course I have. Which they should know I have. So maybe they won’t ask me that. Maybe they’ll just trust that their pragmatic baby sister knows exactly what she’s doing. Which I do. For once in my life, I know I’ve made the right decision about something.
In fact, this decision to have Jake’s baby, more than any other in my life, is one I’ve made fairly quickly, all things considered and with the assured clarity of thought. It’s the right decision.
But at the end of the day, Jake’s opinion is the only one that matters.
The main courses are even more extravagant than the starters, and from the moment they set it down next to my plate the rich, dark glass of red wine hovers at the edge of my vision, tempting me, torturing me. I think about spilling it, about waiting until he’s gone to the toilet and emptying it in the plant pot behind me, all of it ludicrous. Finally, I lift the thing and sniff it, screwing my face up in an absurd, exaggerated fashion. It makes me feel awful because it smells delicious. A perfectly balanced, full-bodied red with a spicy undercurrent that goes quite perfectly with the savory peppery beef.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asks, frowning as he swallows a mouthful of his succulent-looking king crab.
“Corked, I think. Ugh.” I push the glass away and lift my water instead.
To my eternal frustration, Jake signals the passing waiter. “There’s something wrong with her wine, mate,” he tells him.
The waiter looks horrified. And surprised. I can’t blame him. “Really? You don’t like the choice, madam?”
“Um, no, the choice is fine—it just smells a little strange? Corked, maybe. I’m so sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize. I’ll replace it immediately.” He lifts the glass and goes to walk away.
I put my hand out to stop him. “Actually, it’s fine. I don’t really feel like it now.” I press a hand to my mouth as if I may be about to gag and give him as innocent a look as possible. I’m going to hell for this. “I’ll just have some more water, thank you.”
“Are you sure? It’s absolutely no trouble at all.”
“No, thank you. Just the water.”
He does his customary bow and disappears, then he reappears with my water and another apology a few minutes later, and the incident passes without any further comment from Jake, too absorbed in his delicious-looking crab and fluffy, fragrant jasmine rice. He finishes first and at my request helps me with the rest of my rib eye.
With both plates polished, I sit back in my chair and sigh contentedly. I could sleep now. Curled up in his arms in the warmth of his bed, his fingers stroking my hair as we look out at the view. The perfect end to an almost perfect day. Except there’s something I want to try to broach again. I’m hoping he’s as content and relaxed as I am right now.
“That was amazing,” Jake says with a lick of his lips before standing up from the table. “Back in a minute.” As he passes behind my chair he skims his fingers over the back of my neck, squeezing gently, a little possessive touch that sends a ripple through me.
While I’m waiting for him to come back from the bathroom, the waiter appears to clear the plates. He apologizes again about the wine before placing the dessert menus down in front of me. I couldn’t possibly fit in another thing, but clearly he wants me to find a space. I peruse the menu anyway for something to do while I wait for Jake. There’s a spiced plum pot that looks tempting, and by the time Jake sits back down I’ve just about convinced myself I could squeeze in the cashew and chocolate parfait. As he settles back into his seat I notice a woman a few tables away watching him intently, a covetous, far-off look in her eye. With a sigh, she drags her eyes back to her decidedly less appealing date.
“Can’t decide?” He smirks, flipping the menu over.
I stick out my tongue at him as I close the menu. “I’m actually stuffed. What will you have?” Because of course he’ll have dessert.
“It all looks fucking good,” he groans miserably. After studying it for a moment more he closes the menu and gives me The Stare. “To be honest, what I want isn’t on here.”