Page 106 of Into the Dark
“I don’t think they serve it here.”
“I know a place they do though…” He raises an eyebrow before we both erupt into childish laughter.
“What a day…” I say when the laughter bubbles off.
“Yeah,” he says evenly. He knows what I’m doing. Or trying to do.
“Eventful.”
“Alex.” A mild look of warning passes over his eyes, darkening them a little.
“Jake.”
He sighs and looks about—over at the bar, at the woman a few tables away who wants him, then finally back at me. “Let’s not ruin this, yeah? Tonight’s been good. And nothing’s changed, baby. I still don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m not trying to ruin it.” I reach across to take his hand again. “But can I say something? Just one thing, and then I promise I’ll let it go. Please?” I squeeze his fingers in a plea.
His mouth flattens, nostrils flaring a little as he considers it. Finally, he nods. I feel a surge of love toward him for it.
Christ, do I need to make this count. I take a deep breath. “You told me once that everything you’ve ever done, all the bad choices you’ve made—everything that’s happened to you—was worth it the night we met.”
His eyes narrow, and he says derisively, “You want me to thank her for you? You think she had anything to do with that?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. But you told me then that one of the only things you believe in is that everything happens for a reason. Don’t you think that maybe this is one of those things? That maybe she’s here, in your life again, for a reason?”
He ponders this for a few long seconds, but I can tell nothing about the direction of his thoughts. So impassive is his expression, so inscrutable are his eyes. People are led past us to their seats, plates put down and cleared away from tables by silent, efficient waiters, and trays of fragrant dishes bob past us. I fear Vogue-ninja waiter will appear to take our dessert order and it’ll prevent Jake from responding altogether, meaning the moment will be lost.
Then he speaks.
“Yeah, I think she probably is back here for a reason. Money, most likely. The club is doing well. Really fucking well, and it’s the only legitimate thing I’ve ever had. The only thing anyone could try to take from me.” His voice is dark and quiet. “So yeah, I’m betting that’s the reason.”
“You think that’s it?”
“Let me tell you something about my mother, Alex.” He sits forward slightly, eyes narrower still. “She never cared about anything except where the money for her next bottle was coming from. Not me, not Jon. She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body, so trust me when I tell you she isn’t back here for a cuddle.”
Well, at least he called her his mother. That’s progress.
“People change, Jake.” Isn’t that what he’s doing now? For me? For us?
“Do they?” He doesn’t look convinced, and it causes a note of dread to move over me.
I squeeze his hand tighter. “Yes. I believe they can.”
He gives me a small, sad smile. “People can change the things they do, baby, but they can’t change who they are. Not deep down. That shit is ingrained so deep you can’t dig it out.”
I open my mouth to speak then close it again. I don’t have anything.
“I don’t want to talk about her anymore tonight, Alex,” he says firmly. He doesn’t say the word “please,” but there’s a plea in his voice all the same. Not tonight. I decide to take this to mean that one day he’ll want to.
“Okay. Not tonight.” I nod, squeezing his hand once more.
He relaxes visibly, his shoulders dropping and mouth softening. He wraps his fingers around my own and offers me a restrained kind of smile.
Suddenly, his phone—which he’s ignored for the entire evening—begins to rattle loudly on the table. He turns it over and frowns, which makes me think it might be Vicky.
“It’s the club,” he says, and I gesture for him to take it. “I need to take it, sorry.” He lifts it to his ear. “Rachel?” His eyes darken almost immediately, narrowing to slits. “Are you fucking serious?” He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, his shoulders raised and tense again. “Fucking hell…is she okay? And where is he?” He drops his head back and lets out a loud sigh before muttering something under his breath. “At dinner… Mayfair… Nah, it’s cool—it’s better you called.” He looks at his watch. “Half an hour, maybe… Yeah, we’re done.” He looks up at me then, an apology written over his face. “I know, I know. It’s okay. Just ask her to wait for me, yeah? I know, Rachel, I’m sorry. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Bye.” He just about stops himself from throwing his phone down on the table. “I have to go in.” He curses.
“Everything okay?” Stupid question of the night, because clearly it isn’t.