“It’s a non-profit, not a criminal organization.” She rolled her eyes. “And what I said to Monique was the truth.”
“Oh really? All that BS about how we decided to start it together?”
“Well not that part obviously,” she said, looking at me like I was an idiot. “The part about wanting to help someone not make the same mistakes I did.”
“Right.”
“I’m being serious!”
“And honest?” I scoffed. “Sorry, but I don’t trust you, Rachel.”
She almost looked insulted by that statement, her glossy lips creased with hurt. How could she be though? She’d been out to get me ever since she learned Jacob and I had a relationship that was anything but professional. She’d set me up, shamed me, done everything she could to try and break us up. None of that matched up with her supposed kind-hearted nature.
I didn’t buy it.
She sniffed, picking up her shades and pulling them back on with angry, jerky motions. “You don’t have to trust me. You just have to know that when I set my mind to do something, it gets done.”
I let out a snort, finding the clock. 11AM and the last thing in the world I wanted or needed to be doing was arguing with Rachel Laraby. “If you want to pretend like you’re some caring philanthropist over night, knock yourself. Leave me out of it.”
“But you’re already involved,” she said, rising slowly. “You were involved the moment he chose you.”
I went rigid. I should have known it would somehow circle back to this. I was still a little confused as to how she figured setting up a fake organization would lead to Jacob realizing our relationship was a mistake and rushing into her arms.
“This should be good,” I scowled, knowing the smart thing would be to walk away from the craziness but genuinely curious to see what was going on in her head.
“I sat down and tried to figure out what it is, what he could possibly see in you that he wouldn’t have in me in spades.” She pulled her clutch beneath her arm. “It couldn’t be your looks. You’re not that funny. So it had to be your Anne Frank-like optimism and niceness and all that bullcrap.”
I let out a laugh that really made everyone in the room lock their attention on us. When she popped her shades on top of her head to glare at me I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from guffawing.
“You are completely--”
Her eyes shot away from me and her mouth fell open. When everything else seemed to go completely silent, I turned around, smiling when I saw Jacob at the door, then feeling my heart drop when I saw the hurt coursing across his face.
Rachel moved toward him before I could react. “Jacob it’s so good to--”
“Leila.” One word and I knew something happened.
Rachel disappeared and it was just us. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my mother.” His voice was raw, every vocal chord, every emotion exposed. “She’s in the hospital.”
****
If there was ever any question as to whether Jacob loved his mother, it was put to rest when we screeched from the Whitmore and Creighton parking garage.
Under normal circumstances, I would curtly remind him that no matter how many zeroes on the price tag or bells and whistles under the hood, all cars looked the same wrapped around a pole, but I just clutched my seatbelt in silence. That kind of comment usually garnered a raised eyebrow and a comment like, ‘You know this is a Maserati, right?’. I had no idea what my answer would be today because I'd never seen him this way. The mask usually shielded his truth away; time and love gave me the ability to see past it most times but in general, I only saw what Jacob wanted me to see, just like everyone else.
As we shot over several lanes to a chorus of honks and Jacob letting out a hail of expletives, my stomach knotted like someone took my insides and twisted them like a rag. There was no mask. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotion, each one more chilling than the last. I saw the snarl of anger and went through the list of possible suspects. Traffic? It didn't matter that it was an inanimate thing; his chokehold on the steering wheel and the string of profanity that would make a raunchy comedian blush told me that didn't matter.
Was he mad at his mother? That would be understandable. After all the woman put him through, the way she controlled him even after all this time was maddening. I bit my lip, watching the vein in his temple twitch. Or maybe he was mad at himself. The other emotions usually blurred behind a facade of cool were tied to the anger. Sorrow. Hurt.
What if he blamed himself?
"This isn't your fault, Jacob," I murmured. "It's no one's fault ."
"She had a heart attack, Leila," he said hollowly. "She's in shape, is OCD about eating and living healthily so that leaves one other thing: stress."
"But that doesn't mean--"
"The last thing I said to her was 'No amount of mothering now will change the fact that you did a shit job of it for 28 years.'"
A silence spread throughout the car. I'd wondered why he went quiet when I joked about cutting her off. He'd already done it.
He let out a groan of frustration as the car in front of us wasn't feeling adventurous and opted to not run the light. He yanked his tie loose then pulled it off altogether, hurling it over his shoulder.
"I told her the only connection we had, would ever have, was the fact that she brought me into this world." His voice lowered, jaw ticking. "I said junkies did the same thing everyday. It didn't mean she'd earned a place in my life." He tilted his head in my direction, regret wetting his eyes. "That can't be the last thing I say to her, Lay. Even after all she's done."
I cradled his cheek in my hand and said the only thing I could think of. The only thing I wanted to believe because the alternative would destroy him.
"It's gonna be alright." The eyes that slayed me every time were slits of disbelief, so I said it again. "It's gonna be alright, Jacob."
They softened, then hardened to sea glass when someone laid on their horn behind us. There was something dangerous brewing and I told him we were just a few blocks from the hospital so he didn't jump out of the car and bash someone's head in. We hit no more lights and the traffic seemed to thin out almost as if they knew Jacob couldn't take much more.
The paparazzi were waiting, but security kept them away from the valet drop off and entrance. Jacob was all thumbs with his money clip, so I put a steady hand over his shaking ones. "I'll take care of the valet. Go find out about your mom."