“No, I guess you weren’t.” I smile, shaking my head, remembering Jake’s words that night. “But I’m not exactly a pushover either. I wouldn’t have said yes if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I love you. I’ve always loved you,” I add, surprised by the tears that fill my eyes.
“I love you too, baby.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently on the lips.
“So is that a yes?” he asks against my mouth.
“It’s a yes.” I grin, happiness bubbling up in me. “Now we have two marriage proposals to tell the kids about one day.”
I feel him stiffen up against me. And not in a good way.
Tilting my head back, I catch something in his eyes that sets unease rolling around my stomach.
Not good. Not good at all.
“I don’t mean we’ll have kids now, of course,” I hasten to add. “Not for ages. Like, a really, really long time.” Three, four years max.
Jake remains quiet, continuing to stare at me, his face an unreadable mask. But even in this low light, I can tell the colour has drained a little from his face.
And now I feel inclined to ask the question, “You do want kids, don’t you?”
I do. I couldn’t envision a life not having them.
He clears his throat. “I…um…well, I don’t know.” He shrugs. It’s an awkward, jerky kind of shrug. “I mean, it’s just not something I ever considered. I guess I just never saw kids as part of my future. They’re not an investment I ever considered making.”
An investment? Since when did kids become a commodity?
This really is not good. It’s so far from good, it’s replaced whatever the word for that would be.
“Oh,” I say.
What else can I say? A sudden chill settles over my skin, and it’s got nothing to do with the night air. I take a small step back from him.
“Look, Tru.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “You know I didn’t have the best role model growing up.”
Jake’s dad was an abusive, poor excuse for a man, who went to prison for his treatment of Jake and his mom.
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a dad,” he continues. “And babies…Christ, they don’t exactly fit into my world, do they? I mean, I wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Music is my thing. You, and music.”
I don’t know if it’s the look on my face or my body language or the complete bloody idiot inside of him possessing him to the point of maximum stupidity that prompts him to say, “But, hey, if kids are what you want, then sure, we’ll have kids.” He kisses my forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. It’s no biggie. Come on, let’s eat.”
Stunned to silence, I let Jake lead me to the table, never actually saying the words I want to say. The ones that are stuck in my throat, choking me to death.
It’s no biggie, he said. No biggie.
He’s right, it’s not big. It’s huge. Fucking ginormous, in fact.
And right now my heart has dropped straight through that f**king ginormous fact and is hurtling somewhere toward oblivion.
You don’t have a child with someone because it’s what the other person wants, because it will keep them happy. Especially when that something—as big as having children—is something you clearly do not want. You have a child with someone because it’s what you both want, together.
It’s most definitely what I want in the future. Apparently, Jake…not so much.
How did I not know this?
A hollow feeling takes up residence in my chest.
Jake doesn’t want kids. And I do.
This puts us on very different pages.
Fuck.
How did I go from a second marriage proposal and blissful happiness to a possibly empty future in the space of a few minutes?
Screw me and my goddamn big mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
I wake in the dark to the feeling of my stomach roiling.
I’m going to be sick.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I scramble out of bed and run for the bathroom.
I make it just in time. Tossing up the toilet lid, I throw up.
The next thing I know, Jake is beside me, gathering my hair back from my face as his other hand gently soothes my back.
When my stomach is empty, Jake reaches over and flushes the toilet while I rest my head on my forearm, sweat trickling from my face and down my neck.
Jake reaches over and gets a tie for my hair off the sink and puts my hair into a loose ponytail for me.
I hear running water and then feel a cool flannel against the back of my neck.
“You’re sick?”
“I woke up feeling like I was going to throw up. And then I did, obviously…” I trail off.
Jake puts his hand to my forehead. “You feel really hot.”
“Everything here feels hot,” I mumble.
“Let’s get you back to bed.” Jake scoops me into his arms and carries me to the bedroom.
He lays me down on the bed. My sweaty skin instantly sticks to the sheets.
I feel so uncomfortable and very sick.
I hear Jake moving around the bedroom, and then he sits beside me, holding out a glass of water. “Try some water. Just sip it.”
Propping myself up on my elbow, I accept the glass from Jake and take slow sips.
I’ve only just put the glass down on the bedside cabinet when the wave of nausea hits again.
“Sick again,” I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth.
I’m back in Jake’s arms in an instant, and he strides to the bathroom, placing me beside the toilet, kneeling beside me, once again rubbing my back as I retch up the water I just drank.