The Carrero Solution (Carrero Book 3)
Chapter 22

“Hey,” I say to Sarah when she answers the phone. Her sweet hello makes me smile. I miss her like crazy, even though it’s only been two weeks since Jake brought me here. I’ve been hiding, mulling things over, trying to get my head around everything that is my life before reaching out to her or anyone else. I swore Jake to secrecy about the baby until I could let it sink in and see how things went between us. I need time, and he’s giving it to me.

“Hey, you. How’s it all going? I didn’t want to call after your text in case you two needed some time alone.” She responds with a gentle tone, the one she uses when she thinks I’m fragile.

Oh, are you about to replace out how fragile I am.?

“I’m getting there. It’s been a bit up and down. I’m still taking crazy angry turns at Jake, but he’s been the model of absolute patience.” I sigh and think back over the last couple of weeks, cringing. Jake has been understanding. He’s keeping his distance unless I initiate rare touch, still no kissing and no sex. He’s enduring my cyclone of moods like a champ. I can’t fault him at all. Jake has been everything he promised; patient, understanding, calm, non-demanding, and gentle, sometimes a little too gentle.

He is letting me behave appallingly towards him, not yelling back when I need to shout at him. Not reacting when I slap his hands away or avoid his touch. Instead, surprising me with take-out whenever he has to go out. He brings me everything I crave, at any hour, night, or day, even when he has to drive thirty minutes to fetch it. He moved to another bedroom for the first two nights of me being here until I woke from another night terror and crawled in beside him, sobbing my heart out. After that, he refused to sleep apart again, so on that front, I relented. Sleeping apart was miserable anyway, not only because of the dreams but because I missed having him nearby even when I wanted to throw things at him. Even in bed, though, he’s kept his distance for the most part.

“He should be, seeing as he’s the one who did this to you.” She soothes.

Oh, the irony.

“Sarah … talking of things Jake’s done to me….” I break off and inhale slowly. I still haven’t got my head around this little detail. Petrified by the idea, I’m still unsure if I’ve absorbed it.

“Please tell me he hasn’t done anything else that stupid?” Sarah gasps, suddenly in ferocious mode, her tone almost a growl. I can picture that sweet face twisting in rage and over-protectiveness.

Well actually…

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, breathing out so it comes out like a whooshing noise. I figure using the whole ripping off a Band-Aid method is probably best; say it quickly, and it won’t be as bad.

“Say again?” Sarah halts with a sharp intake of breath.

“I’m going to have Jake’s baby.” Another quick whoosh of breath in a zombie-like monotone.

God, even the way I say it sounds like I’m in complete disbelief, trying the words out for the first time after two weeks of mulling this over.

There’s an eerie silence for a moment, and I’m not sure if Sarah’s there anymore; maybe she’s passed out, but I didn’t hear a thud. The inner swirl of fear I’ve been harboring for the last two weeks rises, getting ready to spill over.

“You know … ordinarily, anyone else saying this to me, especially with all you two have going on, would make me feel a bit…well, upset. But I have this weird sense of happiness right now that I can’t explain.” Her tone’s slow swell of joy as she lets my news sink in. She sounds almost as confused at her reaction as I have been in the past weeks here.

“You’re happy?” I question flatly, not sure of what response I wanted from her. Now I’m confused and suddenly a little irritated. Sarah was always the word of reason and wisdom. Now she’s being a Jake.

“I think you need this, Ems.” She encourages, softly, with a gentle tone.

I am beyond stupefied right now.

“I need an unplanned pregnancy?” I repeat like a completely brainless dimwit who can’t absorb anything she’s saying, an edgy tone to my voice. I am trying to figure out how her brain works.

“No. I mean, I used to think you needed someone like Jake to bring out the inner you, but now I think this here is what’s going to bridge that last gap. Motherhood Emma. I think you need motherhood.” She sounds enlightened like she’s just had the most amazing epiphany.

I don’t think so!

I have no words; my brain is whirring and whizzing at my friend’s idiotic logic.

“We’re not in the nineteen fifties. I won’t have a fulfilling life if I just get married and pop out babies,” I snap a little too aggressively, trying to reel in the anger I’ve been going through a lot lately; annoyed at myself for getting snippy with her. But really, she has the most idiotic logic ever. It wouldn’t surprise me if, in her next breath, she tries to marry me off to him!

“No, that’s not what I mean. Look, stop getting upset. I just mean that part of you, maybe, needs unconditional love and the nurturing maternal stuff that comes with being a mom. That with Jake and a baby, you’ll maybe replace that place you’ve been looking for. What he can’t give you himself, he can give you by making you a mother.” She leaves me dumbfounded, so sure of her crazy ideology.

I run a hand over my face in agitation and rub at my closed eyes. Sarah has lost her mind.

“I have no idea what you’re on, but send some my way. I could do with that kind of special this morning,” I snap grumpily, hostility in full flow, only she giggles at the other end.

“Oh, my God, poor Jake. Emma, really? In less than five minutes, I can only imagine the crazy mess he’s dealing with. All those versions of you colliding dramatically with hormonal imbalance thrown in, and you’ve probably no idea how to handle it at all. No wonder you’re being so pissy.” Her tone seems to quell my anger, and despite myself, I smile. Sarah, of all people, knows me well, and she’s right.

My life has been turned on its head, and every version of who I was or am has me so upside down and back to front I’ve no idea who I am anymore. All I know is graceful and cold PA Emma would never be in the crazy mess I’m in now. I haven’t worn any of her clothes in weeks, let alone those stilettos, which I’ve kept with me almost like a protective talisman. I wear flats now … flats! Girly clothes, cute jumpers, and goddamn summer dresses in romantic fabrics. Hell must have frozen over, surely.

“I’ve been a nightmare, Sarah. It’s a wonder he’s still here.” I cast my mind back to the tearful sobbing, angry shouting, and smashing plates of crazy Emma, who has been occupying the apartment with him. The woman who woke from a nap on the couch to replace Jake had set up the bathroom with candles, music, rose petals, and a gorgeous bubble bath for me and told him I hated him before breaking down in sobs.

I am a mess. Jake is in pain too, but I’m selfishly stomping all over him, ignoring what he’s feeling, marking it as invalid because he hurt me and ruined things because he took my trust and ripped it into tiny shreds.

The stuff with Marissa still claws at my brain every day. It’s completely unhealthy, hanging over me like some doom and gloom cloud of tension. I’ve spent the last two weeks knowing he’s been avoiding her contact, and it only adds to the build-up inside me; that somehow, the moment he sees her will make me break. It intensifies my anger when it hits, and I know a time will come when I’ll blow up at him, an outlet for all the crazy inside me.

“Jake loves you, and he’s repenting for his sins. If he can’t handle all you’re throwing at him now, babe, he’s not the man for you.” Sarah laughs and jokes, but I know she’s being serious.

Jake is handling all I am throwing at him, bringing home my favorite foods when he goes out to meetings and pampering me with gifts and love notes to replace whenever I open a drawer or use the bathroom. He leaves little surprises for me to replace whenever he goes out. He’s trying so hard to show me that I am loved and wanted, yet all he’s getting in return is an unhinged emotional psychopath who occasionally shows hints of the girl he loves. I need to stop pushing him away and acting so hostile, or I’ll be chasing Jake to win him back. But I can’t help it. Something in me in the last two weeks has grown overly uncontrollable, with an emotion bubbling inside of me that I can’t pick out, an aching cavern of emptiness that I have no way of dealing with or know how to deal with.

“I think he might get sick of how I’m being,” I verbalize my inner doubt without thinking. Shivering at the thought.

“No, he won’t, Emma. You’re pregnant, and you’re grieving over what he did. I’m sure even Jake has the intelligence to see that, and he’s sure as hell got the sense to let you do it. Are you back? I mean, are you … intimate again?” Her question surprises me, but with Sarah, she does like the juicy details.

“I let him touch me; occasionally. We share a bed, and sometimes he reaches for me in his sleep but other than that, we don’t go near each other. I can’t let him kiss me or get too touchy-feely just yet, and definitely no sex.” I can’t even begin to explain the sense of heartbreak I get whenever I even contemplate kissing him. She’s always there in my mind, pushed up against him. It’s all bound up with my trust in him and my inner need to inflict a sort of punishment on him. I can’t even dissect it myself, and I haven’t let him try in weeks. I’ve been too scared to let him if I’m being honest, because that bitch being in my head causes so much pain.

“It’s normal, Ems. He betrayed you. All that stuff isn’t owed to him … it’s earned. He needs to earn back the trust to let him go there again. I completely understand.” She sighs.

I’m glad she does, as I have no idea.

I catch the noise of Jake coming into the apartment and the shuffle of bags as he strolls in; he and Mathews are laughing over something. He sounds happy, and it tugs at my heart, lightening my mood. The voice and laugh that has so much power over me. I miss that laugh lately; it hasn’t been around much.

He had an early meeting at his father’s building and was gone for hours. There’s a rise in my stomach, the lightening of the heavy pit, and the urge to go to him overwhelms me. At least a part of me still wants him just as much as I did before; it reminds me every time he’s been away. I miss him when he’s not here, even if I am being a complete bitch to him when he is.

“Sarah, I need to go. I’ll text you later, okay? Jake’s home.” I suddenly have an unyielding urge to see him.

We say our goodbyes, and as I hang up, Jake sweeps past, carrying many shopping bags with various brands and designer names emblazoned across them. I sigh and hope he’s not brought home another mountain of gifts like he did last time he was in the city. I don’t want gifts and trinkets; I want my head to stop with all its confusing crap.

He heads into the bedroom with a smile my way, and I get that surge of disappointment that I’ve been getting a lot lately. Sometimes I miss the forceful Jake who says, Fuck this shit, and pushes me to a wall kissing the hell out of me. I miss him in that way, and part of me wonders how I would react if he did just that; if he took away my choice to try kissing him and just did it. If he took away my choice and just forced physical contact again.

Would I push him away?

You chose to keep him at a distance until you can handle this Marissa shit!