Page 141 of Into the Dark
Jake gives me a sheepish smile. “Yeah, okay…point taken.”
“How did she react to that?”
“She went to Fred. He told me to sort my shit out and do the right thing by her. He told me to grow up and deal with my ‘fucking mess.’ His words. I didn’t need to marry her, but I had to look after her and my baby when it came. He was right. It’s one of the only things he’s been right about. Didn’t stop me from hating him for it though. Or her.
“I barely saw her when she was pregnant. I remember the day she told me it was a boy.” He closes his eyes and looks like he might be in some kind of physical pain. “I told her it didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl or a fucking unicorn because it was still a bastard that nobody fucking wanted, least of all me.” The look in his eyes is utter self-hatred. It’s almost smothering. He’s waiting for me to say something—to tell him how awful he was, how unforgivable his words were.
“Then people do change,” I say. “Because you’re not that person anymore. I’ve seen you with him, how you look at him and talk to him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He adores you. You’re his whole world, like he’s yours.” My voice is firm. Resolute.
Jake looks as if he might disagree with me, but doesn’t. He lets out a breath and closes his eyes.
“When did it change for you? When did you realize you wanted to be his father?”
“As soon as I saw him,” he says. “Everything changed. His eyes were squeezed shut so tight, and his little hands looked like fists, and he was so fucking small.”
Oh, the image I have of Jake looking at his son for the first time is powerful. It whips up all sorts of emotion in me—some I’m not proud of.
“I wanted to protect him. Make sure nothing ever hurt him. Everything I thought I wanted or needed in life changed the second I saw him. Felt the same way when I saw you the first time.” He’s smiling again, soft and loving.
My eyes tear up, and he shifts up the bed so he can press his forehead against my own.
“Everything’s going to be different this time, baby. I’m going to be there to look after you—both of you. I promise you that, Alex.”
“I know you will. I know.”
He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me deeply again, shifting me so I’m cocooned under him but so that he’s not putting any weight on me. I moan softly when he slides his hand between my legs and strokes me there for a moment before moving trailing fingers up to my stomach.
“I can’t believe I never worked it out. How fucking dozy am I?” He sounds annoyed at himself.
“You have been a little preoccupied…” I say. “Also, I was sneaky…” Something else I’m not proud of.
“Yeah, you were, weren’t you?”
“Are you happy?” I ask, changing the subject. I so want him to be happy. I’m happy. We still have this bloody mess to untangle ourselves from, but about this I’m buoyant and relieved and happy.
“Of course I am. You make me happy—you know that.” He strokes his nose against mine.
“I mean the baby. Does the baby make you happy?”
He pulls his head back up and gives me a look, “A little person growing inside you, made out of you? Yeah, that makes me happy.”
“A little person made from me and you.”
“Yeah, well, I hope it’s more like you…” He touches his lips to my forehead and inhales deeply. I shake my head in disagreement and draw my eyes down the length of his body, which he’s propped up now on his elbow.
“You’ll need to find space for a new one somewhere,” I say, letting my hand drift across the inked marks over his chest, down to the lettering on his stomach. A deeply satisfying tremble moves through me at the idea of him having our child’s name etched somewhere on his body.
“Plenty of space left yet.” He peers down. “I want you on here somewhere too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I’ve wanted to do it for a while now.”
“And where would you have me?”
He meets my eye and lifts an eyebrow. “You’re fucking asking for it, doctor.”
“You really need to work on that language—they hear everything, you know.” I look pointedly down at my stomach.