by Kelly Rimmer
But it’s also true that the last thing in the world I want is to control her. And I definitely don’t want to change her. I love Jess just as she is—survivor, leader, lover and friend. She’s fierce, but she’s imperfect. She’s just Jess, and Jess is everything I want.
I can’t untangle the mess of this. How do I ask her to try with me, when just doing so might feel to her like I’m pushing her, and whenever I push her, she retreats?
The answer comes to me in the early light.
It’s in my nature to go after what I want, sometimes the second the thought crosses my mind that I want it. But that isn’t going to work with Jess. She’s been through too much. She needs to know she’s in control.
I never wanted to build any particular life with her. I don’t give a shit about kids and marriage if that’s not what Jess wants, but it seems like no matter how often I tell her that, she just can’t hear it. All I really wanted was the push and pull of our lifelong dynamic, over and over again, forever. I wanted to negotiate with her and debate with her and fight with her. I wanted to compromise with her. I wanted her to trust me to give her whatever she needed to be happy.
If I push her, she runs away. The harder I push, the further she runs. She found the ring, so she broke up with me. She realized I was staying in town to try to rebuild a relationship with her, so she threw me out of her house.
But the inverse is also true. When I respected her wish for me to leave her alone, she came back to me. And even last night, when we argued at her apartment and I walked away, she came here to the hotel.
This isn’t some stupid game she’s playing—she opens up to me only when I inadvertently remind her that she will be safe if she does so.
I have to listen to her, and time and time again, she’s asked me to let her go.
It’s actually simple in the end. I finally realize that all I can do is trust Jess to figure all of this out for us. I know she wants me. I know she’s scared. But if I wait for her to find a way to choose us, maybe I’ll show her that she really can trust me with a part in her future.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jess
I WAKE TO the sound of the hotel room door closing, and Jake is there with a tray. He’s shirtless, wearing boxers, and this is a view I wish I could wake up to again. He rests the tray over the bed, then crawls across and kisses me. He’s cleaned his teeth and shaved this morning. I think he’s even taken a shower.
“I really passed out, huh?” I say. I’m actually feeling odd. It takes me a moment to identify the emotions. I’m feeling self-conscious. Vulnerable. More than a little embarrassed that I exposed parts of myself to Jake that he didn’t even know were there.
“You were exhausted,” he murmurs as he flops to sit beside me, propping himself up on the pillow. He brings the breakfast tray to rest on his lap, and I see that he’s ordered me a coffee and some eggs. When I sit up, he hands me the coffee. “Do you have plans today?”
“Thanks. And . . . no,” I say cautiously. “Why?”
He smiles at me.
“Do you want to stay in bed with me this morning?”
I hear the subtext. He’s not even talking about sex, although I’m sure we’ll manage plenty of that. He’s talking about relaxing together. He’s talking about pillow talk and cuddles and just being.
One last morning. Let’s have one last morning together.
“I’d love to.”
“THIS IS A bit awkward,” Jake says as we finish eating a late room service lunch together. We’re still in bed, after another intense round of lovemaking and a morning nap. It’s rare for me to just stop like this, and it’s actually incredible to do so in the company of the one person on earth who makes me want to stop. I glance at Jake, intrigued and more than a little excited. Hopefully he’s going to ask me to do something really kinky. I’m disappointed when he gives me a sad smile. “This has been great, but I really need to pack up for my flight soon.”
My jaw just about hits the sheets.
“Oh,” I say, when I can speak again. Seriously, Jake? Throwing me out of your hotel room? I can’t really complain though. Not when I know he’d happily agree to continuing this relationship, and I’m the one refusing to have the discussion. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later, I’m dressed and standing at his door. He’s on the inside, leaning against the door frame. We stare at one another, and it hits me that this is really it.
Another chapter in the saga of Jess and Jake. The last chapter, because we need to let it go now. It’s going to break my heart to hear he’s met someone and settled down, but at the same time, I hope I do hear that at some point soon. Jake deserves to be happy more than anyone else I know. He’s wasted enough of the last ten years waiting for me.
“It’s been fun,” I say as brightly as I can. Jake chuckles softly, even as my smile fades. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too,” he murmurs.
“But this is really it, isn’t it?”
“It seems that way.”
“Move on, Jake.”
“I’m trying to.”
This is where I kiss him and turn away.
Kiss him and leave.
My body just refuses to move.
“When do you fly out?” I blurt. God, this is pitiful. I’m just asking random questions, trying to prolong this last moment. Something flashes across Jake’s gaze, but it clears before I can interpret it.
“9:15 p.m.,” he says quietly.
Six hours. In just six hours he’s going to get on a plane to go home, and I might never see him again.
“JFK?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, then turn to walk away. Jake catches my elbow and turns me back toward him, then pulls me close. He cups my face in his hands and bends and brushes his lips against mine. His mouth moves softly over mine, and his hands on my cheeks hold me in place so gently it’s almost worshipful.
It’s not a kiss intended to arouse me, although maybe it’s a kiss intended to arouse feelings, and if that’s what Jake’s trying to do here, it works. Emotionally, I’m about to melt down.
“Goodbye,” he whispers after a minute, and then pulls away from me.
I blink away confused tears, then reach up to kiss him one last time.
“I’ll miss you,” I blurt.
“I love you, Jess.”
When I take a step away from him, he gives me one last sad smile and closes the door.
I LEAVE HIS hotel and walk. It’s a beautiful afternoon, and I’m enjoying the fresh air—as much as the humid, smelly summer air in New York ever is fresh. It’s twenty blocks back to my office, twenty-two back to my apartment. I guess I’m probably headed to either one of those places, although I have no actual destination in mind. I walk because I need to think.
I think about the first time Jake asked me out. We were so young then—so green. He had just started a six-year fellowship. I was at the “make it or break it” part of building a startup. He asked me to get a drink with him after work one day, and I could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. Reflected in Jake’s eyes, I saw a white picket fence in the suburbs, two adorable redheaded children and a dog.
And not a dog like Clara. More like a golden retriever, named something unfortunate like Mr. Fluffy by one of those imaginary redheaded children.
I knew right from the start that he was a forever kind of guy. I knew right from the start that the feelings that he had for me, even at that early stage, ran deep. I just told him I couldn’t—I didn’t explain or offer excuses.
Jake read between the lines. We hung out a lot in the years that followed, but usually in a group. On my birthday a few years later, he bent to kiss my cheek to say good-night and the lust in the air was so thick I nearly choked on it.
God, I wanted him so badly. We almost kissed that night . . . we came so close. He texted me the next day and suggested we go out for coffee. We met up alone, and I told him I couldn’t date him. He told me he respected that.
> And so set the pattern for the years to come, until Paul and Isabel’s first wedding. We’d circle around one another like sharks hunting prey. Neither one of us was pining—we both dated other people. But on some level in my mind, it was always him. And I knew he felt the same about me. Still, I held back because I knew I was no good for him. And Jake?
Jake held back because I’d asked him to.
Even at Paul’s first wedding, I made the first move. He probably always wanted me, but he respected that he’d already asked me out and I said no.
And not only can I trust Jake, I already do trust Jake. I would never have explained my past to him last night if I didn’t.
I’m nearing my office when I slip my phone from my handbag to text Mitch.
Jess: What are you up to?
Mitch: Writing a sex scene. What’s up?
Jess: Are you on a roll? If so, ignore me—I’d hate to leave your characters unsatisfied. If not, do you feel like catching up for a drink?
Mitch: Definitely. I’ve actually been waiting for this. Fully stocked with Kleenex and Xanax.
Jess: If I needed tissues and Xanax would I propose meeting at that bar across the street from my office?
Mitch: That’s what I love about you, Cohen. Impossible to predict at all times. See you soon.
“I’M CONFUSED. WAS I wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“About you and Jake spending the last few weeks together. I figured you’d both get far too attached again and by now it would have all come to tears.” Mitch takes a sip of his drink, then pauses. “I wasn’t kidding about the Kleenex and Xanax. I know he flies out today and I’m ready.”
“Do you think I’m even capable of having a healthy long-term relationship?” I ask him.
Mitch sets his drink down on the table and frowns at me.
“I remember reading an article about Brainway just after I met you,” he says, after a pause. “It basically mocked the very concept of a startup trying to compete in the web browser space. Then it mocked the idea of a subscription model for a software application most business users get for free. Finally, it mocked the idea of a twenty-something woman taking on the big boys. Not in so many words, of course, but the subtext was undeniable.”
“Newsflash—the tech industry is sexist and small-minded. Any other groundbreaking revelations you have to share before you answer my question?”
“I read another article about you just a few weeks ago. Same publication, might even have been the same journalist. This one speculated about a potential stock market listing down the line and basically suggested that since everything you touch seems to turn to gold, Brainway could be the hottest stock in town one day,” Mitch says. He gives me a pointed smile. “You’ve made a career out of setting yourself an impossible goal and making the naysayers eat their words when you exceed it. Do I think you’re capable of having a healthy long-term relationship? I think that when you want something and you’re determined to get it, there is no stopping you.”
“We aren’t talking about the corporate world, Mitch,” I mutter, staring down into my drink. “If I try and fail, it’s not money at stake.”
“It’s Jake’s feelings,” he surmises. I nod. He draws in a deep breath, then asks gently, “You were adamant you didn’t want anything more. You broke up with him because you were so sure. So, what’s changed, Jess?”
“I thought he wanted children,” I admit, unable to meet my best friend’s gaze. “And last night he told me that’s not the case—he was open to the idea of kids, but he’s also accepted it might not happen for him and he’s fine with that too. It wasn’t the only reason I ended things. But it was a factor because I knew that if we were together, I’d never want kids and I thought he’d miss out to be with me. I thought, eventually, he’d come to resent me.”
“And that’s it? You realize he might be fine with not having kids, so after all of these years of angst and push and pull, suddenly you’re open to the idea of a relationship with him after all?” Mitch asks carefully. I bite my lip.
“It just hit me tonight that he’s always respected my ‘no.’ Even when he didn’t understand it. He’s always, always respected it.”
“Of course he’s respected your ‘no.’” Mitch frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jess?”
“If I were to . . .” I clear my throat. I don’t even know how to say it.
“If you were to give a relationship with him a real shot,” he prompts, laughing softly.
“Yeah. That.” I draw in a deep breath.
“What are you scared of?”
“I need to be independent. I need to steer my own ship. I can’t sign up for a partnership with someone if it means handing over control of the rest of my life.”
“Jesus Christ, Jessica.” Mitch blinks at me. “Have you even met Jake Winton? Are you seriously telling me all of that drama two years ago was because you thought he had his heart set on having children and you assumed he was going to turn into a controlling asshole the minute he got his mitts on you?”
“No, of course not, I just . . .”
But on some level, that’s exactly what I thought. Not with my head—with my heart. And the only reason I’m really thinking any different now is that there is an undeniable pattern in our relationship. Over fourteen years, time and time again, he’s walked away when I told him to.
I say no. Jake backs away, even when it breaks his heart. He has proved to me that he can be trusted to respect my wishes even when they aren’t the same as his. And all I’ve ever done in return is to hurt him.
“Jess,” Mitch murmurs. I look up from the table to meet his gaze. What is it with the men in my life making me face my own pain these days? There’s heartbreak in Mitch’s gaze. I can see he’s feeling very sorry for me right now, but I’m far too wound up to even snap at him.
“I promised myself I’d never let a man control my destiny. I made bad decisions and wound up powerless,” I croak. “I was eighteen and my life was over.”
Mitch knows two things about those days: I had an asshole boyfriend named Eric, and I lost a son named Tristan. It feels fucking stupid that I’ve never shared the rest with him, and I’d probably explain everything else right now but I’m too emotional to get my head straight enough to do so. This conversation might not have even made sense to him, except that when you’ve been close for as long as Mitchell Cole and I have, conversation can flow around gaps.
“Eighteen? You were a kid, Jess. Now you’re a terrifying, formidable woman talking about a partnership with a good man who worships you. It’s not the same.”
“But Jake has more power over me than Eric ever did.”
“Babe,” Mitch whispers, reaching for my hand. “Would he ever abuse it the way Eric did?”
When I shake my head, I knock a tear loose. Goddammit. I swipe it away, and down the rest of my drink.
“Just do me one favor,” Mitch says. I glance at him again, and his smile is sad as he whispers, “Be sure, Jess. Just be sure this is what you want, okay? Before you even tell him. He’s all heart, that man. You hurt each other last time, but I think if you get his hopes up about this and then back out, it’ll crush him.”
“You’re a wise man, Mitchell.”
“And sensitive. And handsome. And did I mention wealthy? Far wealthier than you, by the way.”
“My life’s goal is to make it so that you can’t say that anymore, you know,” I mutter. Mitch grins.
“And you know what, Jessica? I’m ready to pass on the mantle. You’ve set your mind to it, so it’s only a matter of time now.”
I TELL MITCH I’m heading home to think, but I actually find myself in my office. There’s something reassuring about this space, even empty, even at 5:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening. Maybe this is, in some bizarre way, my spiritual home. I sit behind my desk, then put my feet up and close my eyes.
Change has been in the air for a while. Abby and Marcus. Paul and Izzy. Even this stock market projec
t. And now . . . my personal life?
I’m scared. But if there’s one principle I’ve lived my life by, it’s that I never let fear hold me back when I know what I want.
I sit up and wake my laptop up, then load the text messages app and open my group chat.
Jess: Are you guys busy?
Replies come immediately.
Paul: We’ve got the worst jet lag. It feels like 5:00 a.m. to us and we’re just waking up.
Isabel: Paul’s not kidding. He was just about to order in breakfast.
Abby: We have twin newborns. We’re always busy.
Abby: Kidding, they’re still in NICU and we’ve just come home from a visit. Jessie is off the CPAP today! You probably don’t know what it means, but it’s good. But now we have nothing to do and we’re actually bored.
Marcus: Everything okay, Jess?
I pause. Am I really going to do this? But then I’m dialing the video chat, and their faces fill the screen.
“Hey, lunatics,” I greet them lightly.
“Are you seriously working from the office on a Saturday afternoon?” Marcus’s brow knits as he scans the bookshelves behind me. He and Abby are together in their living room, cuddled up. For the first time, I feel a pang of longing. I want that. I want to cuddle up with Jake on the couch on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Maybe we’ll stay there all day. Maybe we’ll wear pajamas. Actually, I’ll even show him my PMS pajamas and he’ll laugh at me, but he’ll also think I’m cute.
“It’s been a weird week,” I say, which is possibly the understatement of the decade.
“Hi there, Jess,” Isabel greets me. She motions toward the space off camera. “I wasn’t kidding about Paul ordering in breakfast. He’s just about done. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to . . .”
“Sorry. I’m back.” Paul joins Isabel, sharing her phone, and I know it’s time.
“I need to tell you something,” I say. I stare between their concerned faces on the screen. This is my family—a completely safe space, and I’m suddenly not even sure why it’s taken me so long to do this. “My life back in Georgia was really different. It’s been hard for me to talk about it over the years, but I really want you all to know. When I moved to New York, I’d just come out of an abusive relationship. And I actually had a son. His name was Tristan and he was stillborn.”
