“And I’m sorry I made such a stupid mistake with Michael.”
“I’m sure it was a learning experience.”
“Oh, yes.”
He sat back and smiled. “So will I get an invite to the wedding?”
“I’m hoping you’ll give me away.”
He beamed. “I gave you to Jake a long time ago. You know he loves you?”
“I know.”
“And you love him?”
“Yes. And I’m just about to go and tell him.”
“Can I give you a little fatherly advice?”
She nodded, albeit a little reluctantly.
“We men like the illusion that we’re taking care of our women. Maybe you could remember that in your dealings with Jake.”
“I’ll try.”
…
One more thing to do.
An hour later, she sat on the bathroom floor in Jake’s apartment and stared at the two pink lines.
Apparently, she was going to have a baby after all.
How the hell had that happened? She had a mental flashback to lying naked on Jake’s desk. Oh yes, that was how.
She hugged her knees and waited for the panic to engulf her. Instead, a rising sense of happiness bubbled up inside. She was going to have Jake’s baby.
And maybe, if the baby was a girl, she could name her after the mother she’d always doubted.
But right now, she needed to tell Jake she loved him—this time without the qualification. And she needed to tell him they were having a baby. And finally, that she was going to take his advice and jump. Hopefully, straight into his arms.
First, there were preparations to make. She bathed and shaved and spent ages drying her hair in her just-got-out-of-bed look. Her bags had been delivered while she was sleeping, and she put on new underwear, red lace that she’d bought for the weekend but never got around to wearing. Then added the leather miniskirt, because Jake had seemed to like that. And her cropped red top that showed off her belly button ring because Jake liked that as well.
Then she sat on the sofa, too nervous to eat, and waited.
And waited.
By eight, she was gnawing on her fingernails. He’d decided he didn’t love her after all and run away from home to avoid the embarrassment of facing her. Or he’d been in an accident and was lying in hospital and calling for her.
She tried his cell phone, and it was off.
At nine, she gave in and called Margie at home to ask if he had a late meeting.
“He went for a drink with Dave and a couple of the lads.”
What? “A couple of the lads?”
“Your friend Steve, and I think Pete.”
Kim put down the phone and eyed it as though it was a cockroach that needed crushing. Jake never went for a drink. Apart from the occasional glass of wine or cold beer, he never drank. So what was going on?
Here she was waiting to spill her heart, teetering on a high ledge, all ready to leap, and the man who was supposed to catch her had gone for a goddamn drink? It had better be a quick one.
It was actually 12:15 before the front door slammed. Kim gritted her teeth and sat up straight, determined to be mature about this. But when the living room door opened and Jake stumbled through, her mouth dropped open.
He weaved his way from the doorway to the sofa and collapsed beside her.
“Kimberly, you’re still here. I thought you’d have scurried back to your own apartment by now. Well, actually it’s my apartment as well.”
“You’re drunk.” It was inconceivable. Jake never got drunk. According to Jake, only dickheads and assholes got drunk.
Which one was he?
“I was drowning my sorrows,” he mumbled. “Trying to forget my broken heart.”
That made her feel marginally better. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d help him mend it, though this was hardly the declaration she’d been hoping for—she doubted he’d even remember in the morning. But he waved her words aside with a wildly gesticulating hand so she had to duck.
“And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been too nice to you.”
She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “You have?”
“Yes, and your old friend Steve agrees with me. ‘Treat ’em mean to keep ’em keen.’ That’s what Steve reckons.”
“Does he?”
“I’m quite looking forward to treating you mean. I have a few ideas.”
“Well, I suggest you keep them to yourself.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“This way the suspense will be so much more exciting.” She was pretty sure her sarcasm was wasted on him.
“And Nadia phoned. She’s booked herself into rehab to overcome her addiction.”
“Her Jake addiction?” Maybe Kim could go book into the room next door. They could get rid of their Jake addictions together.
“Yeah—at least Nadia appreciates me. So I don’t need you to babysit me anymore.”
“How disappointing. I was looking forward to taking her down.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Once I’ve treated you mean and you’ve decided you love me and want to spend the rest of your life making me happy, well, you’re going to have to prove it.”
“And whose idea was that?”
“Dave’s. He’s a sensible man, Dave.”
“And how do I prove it?”
“You’ll come up with something.”
He rested his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. A wave of tenderness washed over her. Like this, he appeared almost vulnerable, and she’d never seen that in Jake before. She wanted to hug him to her and hold him tight and tell him she loved him.
But that was going to have to wait until morning. Because Jake was snoring now. Another first.
He didn’t wake as she tugged off his shoes and then lifted his legs and maneuvered him around so he lay full-length on the sofa. She got a pillow and a duvet from the spare room, placed the pillow gently under his head, and covered him with the duvet. It wasn’t cold, but she tucked him in anyway, dropped a kiss on his forehead, then took the seat opposite and watched him sleep.
She loved him. But now, apparently, it wasn’t enough that she just tell him. She also had to prove it. A smile tugged at her lips; she doubted he would remember much of the evening when he finally woke. All the same, she mulled the idea over in her mind.
When she woke, she was still in the chair, and Jake was still out cold. It was morning, and she had things to do.
Time to prove to Jake that she loved him.