Page 124 of Into the Dark
He smirks and looks down at Fred. “He’s my sword and shield,” he sighs, closing his eyes again sleepily.
I laugh softly.
Without warning and with his eyes still closed, he reaches out and hooks his hand around me to pull me onto the couch on top of him. I help him the rest of the way by kneeling over his body and settling my own into the gap between him and the couch. When I throw my leg over his thighs, Fred drops down from his sleeping place, throws me a dirty look, and saunters out of the room.
“Someone’s not happy with me.” I sigh, snuggling deep into Jake’s chest.
He strokes his hand over my hair, catching the length between his fingers and fiddling with it in an absent sort of way. “Did you have fun at Nick’s?” he asks, sleepy voice rough and low.
“Mmm. We went to see a movie.”
“Any good?”
“Well-made, but depressing. French,” I tell him.
He makes an odd grunt of distaste, I think. I almost don’t want to ask him, but I know that’s not going to be possible.
“Did everything go okay with Freddy?” I’m sure I feel his body tense slightly, but I’m not sure.
“Everything went okay.”
“Did you see Kevin?”
“No. But he’s gone.”
I take a deep breath and swallow, flattening my palm over his chest to rub softly, comfortingly. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Yes,” he says, pressing another kiss to the crown of my head. “I love you.”
I close my eyes and take a deep inhale of the scent emanating from his chest. “I love you too,” I tell him.
“Mm-hmm, this is nice.”
“It is,” I agree. “Oh, my brother is looking for a huge favor from you.”
“From me?”
“He wants your club.” I turn my head up to him. “For a film. His firm does all kinds of things, and sometimes they help with locations. He said they asked already but you quoted a fortune.”
“Did I?” He’s still stroking my hair. “Rachel is a tough nut. Though maybe there’s something booked in and it would cost us a lot to shift it. When does he need it?”
“End of November. For a week or so.”
“I’ll check it out tomorrow when I’m in.” He presses a kiss to my head. “This gonna win him over? He’s not gonna go all big brother on me if I do this for him?”
“Oh, he’ll still go all big brother on you, but in a really polite way.”
He chuckles softly. “Okay. I’ll sort it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to make your family like me—you know that.”
He’s joking, but my eyes blink open as I recall the brief conversation I had with his mother. Families are important. And I just have to hope he’ll understand that when I tell him.
The irony isn’t lost on me. That I’m now the one sneaking around, evading, and keeping things from him. It makes me a hypocrite, I know this, but when I tell him everything—which will be soon—he’ll understand the reasons why. I know he will. The doctor only confirmed what I already knew: I’m pregnant. Just over eight weeks pregnant. Now there’s really no convincing argument for me not to tell him. Now I have to tell the practice and plan my maternity leave. Now letters for scans and appointments I’d like Jake to be present for will be arriving at home. I have to tell him.
I feel nauseous again. This morning, the day the doctor confirmed I’m pregnant, was the first day I’ve felt what appeared to be proper honest-to-god morning sickness. Another irony. I had to dart out of the shower and kneel by the toilet bowl dripping wet as I waited for it to pass.