Page 60 of Into the Dark
“Be a country bumpkin?” He’s smiling. “Would I need to buy a pair of Wellingtons?”
“And a waterproof jacket. God, you’d be the hottest country bumpkin ever to have worn Wellingtons and a waterproof jacket.”
“Not if you’re gonna be wearing them too, I won’t.”
“Move in with me.” I reach out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you. I love having you here. I want you here all the time. Say yes please.”
The smile stays on his face for a few long, hopeful seconds before a serious expression moves over his eyes and mouth to replace it. “I need a room for Caleb, Alex. You know he stays every other weekend, through the week sometimes too. I don’t know how this will fit into your life or his.”
I pull back and nod slowly. I’m an idiot. I haven’t even met Caleb. How would that work? It wouldn’t work.
He tilts my head up to meet his eyes. “I’d say yes if it were just about me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.” I do know. I nod, something heavy clogging up the back of my throat. I drop my eyes and lift a forkful of the cooling spaghetti.
He flips our hands so he’s holding mine instead. “I want to be with you, Alex. Every minute I can be. Fuck, when we were apart it was all I thought about. But I need to be close to him right now. If he needs me, then I need to know I’m close to him.” His eyes implore me to understand, which of course I do. I wonder then, selfishly, if his answer would be different if he knew I’m carrying his baby.
I nod more emphatically this time. “I know. I totally understand. I promise I do.” There’s a knot of emotion in my chest, choking me a little. I try to smile, which I just about pull off. “We have plenty of time to move in together.”
“Yeah, just let me sort this Freddy thing first.” He nods confidently, squeezing my hand before releasing it and lifting his beer bottle. “I want him as far away from that as possible. He’s already too fucking involved, and now you are too. I just need to keep the focus on this right now, keep you both as separate from this as I can, you know?”
I’m not sure I totally do, but I nod anyway. Where will Jake’s focus be when I tell him I’m pregnant? Dread curls in the pit of my stomach as I think about his reaction.
Sudden and shrill, the sound of his cell phone going off in the kitchen is deafening.
“It’s Fred,” Jake says. “I changed the ringtone so I know it’s him. I’ll call him back after we’ve eaten.”
“No, it’s fine. You should get it. If it’s him, you should get it. ‘
With a sigh he stands, crossing the kitchen to lift the thing and shut off the horrendous noise. “Fred, how’s it going?’ he asks warmly. “I’m good—you?”
As I pick up my fork and start to eat again, I realize my appetite has dimmed. There are more “yeah’s than “no’s in Jake and Fred’s conversation, I notice. Fred must say something funny then because Jake laughs before turning to look at me.
“Yeah, something like that.” Then Jake’s telling Fred he still hasn’t heard anything from “him” but that he has a few ideas where “he” might be and that he’s on it. What’s striking is the ease and warmth with which Jake converses with Fred. They even talk about Caleb, which I suppose makes sense since Vicky is his niece and Caleb family. But what’s abundantly clear is that this is no business partner. This is not just someone Jake works for. Jake cares about this man, actually cares about him, or he’s an astounding actor.
The conversation turns serious again a moment later, Jake pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut tight—his typical stress signal. “Yeah, okay. Just let me try Kev again first. Give me a couple of hours, yeah?” He says his goodbyes and then turns to face me. We stare at each other for a long time as I try my hardest not to ask him what it is he has to go do now. I don’t need to know this. I’ll only worry myself sick if I know.
“Your food’s getting cold,” I say softly.
He takes a deep breath, leans up off the counter, and comes back to sit down. “I have to leave in a bit. I’ll be gone a day or so,” he tells me as he begins digging into his food once more. He doesn’t look at me, but I watch his face and notice he looks more tired than he did before the call from Fred.
“Okay.”
When he lifts his head, his eyes are heavy.
“Is it safe?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. It’s safe.”
“But illegal?”
His mouth flattens into a grim line.
I nod, grateful in a way that he decides not to answer that. “So I was thinking,” I say, reaching across to lift my water glass.
“You were? About what?” he asks, chewing on another bit of bread.
“I think it’s time you met my parents.”