“Of course. I think it’s a great idea,” Jake answers, bringing me back to the present.
“Then I would love to.” Carly beams. “How about I come round to your house on Monday, and we can start from there?”
“Sounds great, I can’t wait.” If I’m still living there, that is. I force another smile.
“So you guys have been married six years,” I say, needing the subject change.
“Yep, and together for ten,” Carly answers. “We are the stereotypical high school sweethearts.”
“Maybe ‘stereotypical’ is pushing it a little far, darlin’. I was the lame grungy emo kid, and she was the hot cheerleader,” Smith explains. “It took me five years to get her to notice me; then, once I had her attention, I lured her in with my wit and charm, and we’ve been together ever since.”
“It was the persistence,” she says, laughing. “I figured a guy who had kept at it for that long must have some serious stamina.”
“So it was my persistence and stamina, not my hot body and charm?” Smith says, feigning shock.
“No, those are what got me to marry you.” She grins at him.
As I watch them interact, it warms my unsteady heart, and I feel Jake take hold of my hand under the table. When I look at him, smiling, he smiles back, but there’s something off about it.
Or maybe that’s just my own paranoia setting in.
“Have you guys set a date for the wedding?” Carly asks.
“July twenty-first,” Jake answers, beating me to it.
“How’s the planning going?” she directs her question to me.
“Slow,” I say with a grimace. “I just haven’t got a clue how to get started. So far, I have some wedding magazines, some dresses highlighted as maybes, and a drafted guest list.”
“Well, I’ve planned a wedding before, so if you need a hand at all, you let me know.”
“I might have to take you up on that offer.” I smile.
“Just call me interior designer and wedding planner extraordinaire,” she jokes with a flourish.
I laugh.
It’s easy to laugh when, for that moment, I’ve forgotten I’m pregnant. Then I remember I have our baby growing inside of me, and my mood drops like a rock in water.
The waiter comes over with the bottle of wine, and it’s at that moment Jake brushes my hair back revealing the nape of my neck. Leaning over, he whispers into my ear, “You look so sexy. If I could, I’d take you on this table right now. Dining table, later, at home?” He moves back, staring at me. His eyes are dark and fixed.
I nod mutely, forcing another smile.
He presses a soft kiss to my lips and moves back in his seat, then starts talking to Smith.
He wants to make love tonight.
Of course he does. We have sex every night. And morning.
But I can’t. Not with this on my mind.
I’m going to have to tell him before we get home.
Fuck.
We’ve said our good-byes to Carly and Smith and have just gotten in the car when I blurt out, “We need to talk. And it’s not something we can talk about at home.”
Pausing before he starts the car, he turns his head to look at me, his face full of myriad questions. “Why not?”
I know how important it is to Jake that our home remains untarnished by fights. And I feel this conversation isn’t going to be a happy one.
“Just because,” I reply. “Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?”
“Just because?” He frowns. “You think that’s a f**kin’ answer, Tru?”
“I don’t want to talk about this in the car, Jake.” I wrap my arms protectively around myself.
“But you don’t want to talk about it at home. So I’d say here is as good a place as any.” He turns his body toward me, bending his knee to rest on the seat.
Shaking my head, I stare out the passenger window. I can feel the fear trembling through my body, the words clotting in my throat.
“Is this what was up with you earlier? Why you were crying? What I’ve felt simmering under the surface all night?”
I feel my eyes swell with tears.
“Will you f**kin’ answer me?” he demands. His tone is so sharp, it turns me to face him.
“Are you leaving me?” He looks in pure pain. It’s like a blow across my face.
“No,” I say in a rush. “Why would you think that?”
“Because of the look on your face right now, Tru. You look like you’re grieving. Like you’ve lost something big. Everyone you love is safe and well, so the only thing you could be mourning right now is the death of our relationship.”
“No, Jake, no.” I shake my head. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I brush it away. “I would never leave you. Never. But…you might leave me when I tell you what I have to tell you.” I clasp my hands in my lap.
I see a mix of anger and pain flash across his face, tightening his beautiful features.
After a beat, he says, “Have you—” He pauses. Turning from me, he grips the steering wheel, looking out the windshield. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so heartbreakingly low. “What you have to tell me…if it’ll break what we have right here, this love between us, then don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I want you, Tru, and anything that could for one second make me feel like I don’t…then…just don’t tell me.”