by Nikki Chase
“Err… Because I’m moving? We talked about this yesterday, remember?”
“Yeah. And I told you you’re not moving.” Jacob walks around the car, yanks the passenger door open, and takes a seat beside me.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming with you,” he says confidently, as if that’s his own decision to make.
Oh, well. I guess there’s enough room for one more. It’s not like I have enough upper body strength to push him out. Besides, I do want to spend some time with Jacob, as much time as I have left in Ashbourne—which is to say, not a lot.
As I pull out of my driveway, I think about how much I missed him last night. Where was he?
I kept waiting for him to come over, but he never did.
I did consider me going to his place instead, but I had a lot of packing to do. He knew this, and yet this was the one night he chose not to stay over.
I know there was no threat from Christine anymore and that was the whole point of him staying at my place, but still. It was my last night and he ditched me. That hurt.
In the two hours I had set aside for sleeping, I tossed and turned angrily in my bed, which, by the way, still smelled a little like him from the previous night. I wanted him there with me. I wanted to chat with him, argue with him, have him between my legs—all for the last time.
I still hate him a little for not even showing up after his big speech that morning, but I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived. I don’t have any energy left for anger.
Besides, my mood has significantly improved since I heard the good news from the vet on the phone. I don’t even know when I’m going to see Jacob again, so I decide to make nice.
“You look horrible,” I say.
“Thanks. So do you.” He’s right, of course. We both look like hell, with bloodshot eyes, colossal eye bags, and messy hair. We look haggard as hobos this morning.
“I stayed up all night packing. What’s your excuse?” I glance at him as I drive. This should be good.
“I stayed up all night fixing things for you so you can stay here.”
“Oh. What did you do exactly?”
I don’t know why his answer catches me off guard. He did say yesterday that he was going to do something to keep me here. I didn’t take him seriously, though.
I mean, sure, he could hack into my phone and find out some things about Stan through his mysterious methods, but I don’t see how he could stop tongues from wagging.
“Okay, listen carefully, okay? I’m going to impress you,” he says with a big, proud grin on his face.
For the rest of the ride to the animal clinic, he tells me all about how he has spoken with the cops, checked for any public information that could link me to the Pussy Cat, and tinkered with the phone lines to divert local calls to the club.
He sounds so excited and I can tell he’s worked really hard on this. I start to feel bad for getting angry last night and thinking he just didn’t want to see me.
I didn’t believe what he said yesterday because it sounded too good to be true. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
Maybe I’ve just been disappointed too many times in my life, but I find it hard to rely on someone other than myself.
“So there’s no reason for you to leave anymore,” he says as I park my car in front of the animal clinic. “You can stay here if that’s what you want. If you still want to leave, we can do that too.”
“We?”
“Yeah. I told you I’m coming with you wherever you’re going. You’re not getting away from me. I’ll keep finding empty houses to rent in your neighborhood until you understand that,” he says with a big, stubborn, victorious grin.
I stay quiet as I digest all the information Jacob has just shared with me. There’s a lot to take in.
I turn off the engine. When I turn to look at Jacob, I can’t even see him clearly because my eyes have filled with water. When I speak, my voice is shaky. “You did all those things...for me?”
“Of course it was all for you, baby.” Jacob interlaces our fingers like he did yesterday and kisses the back of my hand. “Like I told you before, I love you.” He smiles as he wipes away my tears with his free hand. There’s no more anger in his eyes, no more arrogance. There’s only love and tenderness. He asks, “Do you believe me now?”
I nod as something warm spreads throughout my chest, filling me up inside until I feel like I’m about to explode. Tears stream down my cheeks. I nod. “Yes, I believe you.” I sniffle. “And I think… I think I love you too.”
Jacob pulls me into his embrace, and I let the floodgates open. I cry into his chest, all my emotions expanding and bursting out of me in the form of tears. Relief, gratitude, happiness. Love.
I didn’t see this coming this morning, when I thought my life was going in a completely different direction, but I’ve found love. I found it in the parking lot outside my vet’s office, of all places.
“Wow, I had no idea there was such a nice place here,” Jacob says as we ride past the woods and into the clearing, where we see the lake for the first time.
“Yeah. I’m glad most people have no appreciation for local gems either,” I shout over the loud engine of Jacob’s Harley Davidson.
“What?”
“Never mind.” I laugh to myself. I know Jacob already changed the exhaust for me, and I appreciate that, but it’s still too loud for us to have a conversation while riding his Harley Davidson.
Still, I’ve learned to love it, because Jacob loves it.
We stop at the end of the dirt path and I quickly get off the bike, even before Jacob has a chance to turn off the engine.
“Poor thing.” I remove my backpack dog carrier and take a look at Max. “Are you okay, Max?”
It doesn’t look very comfortable for him to sit there with just his head poking out, but he looks happy and excited. His tail wagging is getting pretty violent.
I laugh as I unzip the strange backpack and let him out. We got a lot of strange looks on our way here, but who cares? Max doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to run around in such a big, wide, open space.
There’s grass on which he can roll around, little animals he can bully, and a large body of water he can explore. What more could a dog want?
Honestly, I’m just as happy. I can ask myself the same question. What more could a girl want?
Sure, we didn’t get a reservation at Le Grande because people have made their dinner plans weeks before Valentine’s Day, but we’ve been there anyway, so it’s not like we’re missing out on anything.
The climate here in Ashbourne is mild year-round, so it feels like a waste to not take advantage of that.
Besides, we can’t take Max to Le Grande. He’d spend the whole meal hiding under the table, getting his tail stepped on by waiters, who are too busy to look where they’re going.
No, we don’t need a fancy dinner. Honestly, I’d be content to just stay home and watch some sitcom rerun. Just Jacob, me, and Max, all piled on top of one another on the couch.
That’s all we’ve been doing since I decided to stay in Ashbourne last week, just cuddling and doing nothing. Oh, and having sex the rest of the time. Working and even eating have become such chores.
Because it’s the first Valentine’s Day Jacob and I celebrate together, I feel like we should put in some effort and get out of the house for once. Doing nothing would set a bad precedent, which is bad, because I plan to spend many, many Valentine’s Days with Jacob.
I bend down to pick a stick from the ground and throw it as far away as I can. Max, the little engine that could, runs after it, his little tail wagging behind him. I can’t believe I almost lost him only days ago.
“A little help?” Jacob takes off his leather jacket, revealing a cotton shirt underneath that lets me see the outline of his hard body and the tattoos on his arms. I don't think I could ever grow tired of this view.
He opens the big black box on the back of his bike and pulls out two blankets, one check
ered and one solid blue. He asks, “Where do you want to sit?”
“Over there.” I point at a spot by the water as I walk back toward the bike. I grab a couple of soda cans from the hard-sided box, the metal coated with water condensation.
“Ah!” Jacob yells out when I press the cold can into his bare arm. He squints his eyes at me as he keeps walking with the blankets in his hands, as well as the brown bags that contain our food.
“Ha! I made you scream like a little girl.”
“I made you scream too, last night.” He shoots me that wicked smirk that makes my knees weak every time. He says, “Although, to be fair, you screamed like a big girl.”
“That’s a good comeback.” I raise my eyebrows at Jacob. “Well done. I’m impressed.”
“I can do better,” he says, the smirk still firmly in place as he spreads the red-and-white blanket over the grass. He sits down and pats the space beside him. “Come here. I’ll show you how I can be even more impressive, make you scream even louder.”
I giggle as I sit down on the blanket. I put down the cans of drink and wrap myself around one of Jacob's big, muscled arms.
I can't stop touching Jacob. I feel like there's something missing if he's within reach and our skins aren't touching. I look at couples on the street and I wonder why they don't hold hands, how they could stand to not touch each other for so long.
“This is nice,” I say as I nuzzle into the crook of Jacob's neck and take a look around us.
The sun is shining, the water in the lake is so clear I can see the grey rocks at the bottom, Max is running around stalking and chasing some poor woodland creature.
This is the most perfect Valentine’s Day ever, but that's not because of the weather or the views. The reason I’m so happy is having Jacob by my side.
“Yeah. This is nice.” He kisses the top of my head.
“I’ve wanted to come over here to a while, but I never knew who to take. Everyone's busy with their own stuff. I'm so glad you're here with me now.”
“I’ll always be here with you. You're never getting rid of me.”
“I know. You already told me. Multiple times.”
“That's because you kept trying to ghost me after the first time I told you.”
“I did not!” I laugh. “I never tried to ghost you.”
“You did, and it still hurts deeply when you deny it,” Jacob says with a teasing smile on his face and a hand over his heart.
“Does it now?” I put my hand on Jacob's face. His stubble feels rough on my hand. Everything about this man is rough, every surface of him. Yet on the inside, he's soft as putty—to me, at least.
I raise my gaze to him and see him looking at me with darkened eyes, his pupils dilated, even under the bright sunlight. His smile widens. That's the face of a man who likes what he sees. He can't fake that.
I don't know who initiates it. Is it me when I give him a look? Is it him when he moves just an inch closer? I can't even tell who touches whose forehead first, or who kisses whose lips first. All I know is we’re suddenly locked in a long, passionate kiss.
There's no practice necessary; we just find ourselves doing this little dance where our bodies synchronize on their own, moving together to a beat nobody else can hear.
This happens every time we touch. We have this easy, explosive chemistry that I’ve never had with anyone else.
When we break the kiss, Jacob looks me in the eyes and says, “Because you're such an escape risk, I want to make sure you won't ghost me again.”
“Yeah? How are you going to do that?” I challenge him.
I don't plan on ever ghosting Jacob. I’ve never been this happy. It feels like he's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’d be crazy to throw that away by leaving him with no explanation.
Jacob gets up and pulls me to a standing position. He holds my hand and sinks down to one knee. “Jessica Lake, I want to be the first one to see you in the morning, and the last one in the night. Every morning, every night. I’ll take you to any lake you want. For the rest of my life, you're the only woman I want.”
I raise my hands up to my pounding heart as I realize what Jacob is doing. Blood rushes through my veins. Everything stands still as my world narrows down to this big, strong man on his knees in front of me.
“Baby,” Jacob says as he smiles and pulls a small velvet box out of his jeans pocket. He opens the box to show the most beautiful ring with a blood-red ruby as the centerpiece. “You’ll make me the happiest, luckiest man in the world if you agree to marry me. Will you?”
“Yes,” I say softly, my voice muted by the lump forming in my throat. Something pricks my eyes as Jacob gets up with a big, goofy grin on his normally stern face.
“I thought ruby would suit you most.” Jacob slides the ring down my finger. “Tony told me it was a dumb idea, but I insisted. He said it would be my own fault if you said no because of the ring. And I thought, my girl wouldn't do that.”
I look up at Jacob and see him looking back at me, his features softened by love.
“If you prefer a diamond, though, I’ll change it for you,” Jacob says.
“No, this is perfect,” I say. My voice is shaking and tears are spilling down my cheeks. I can't help but cry as I look at the ring on my finger, a sign that I have a family now. A small family of three—Jacob, Max, and me.
“No. You're perfect.” Jacob pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair. “And you can wipe your perfect snot into my shirt if you want.”
I laugh, even as I continue to cry.
“When Tony calls you tonight, remember to mention how much you love the ring. Flaunt his wrongness right in his face,” says my fiancé.
Epilogue
Jessica
What does the average stripper, or ex-stripper, look like?
If you think you’d be able to tell by the way a woman looks when she’s out buying groceries or working out at the gym, think again.
Right now, I'm wearing a beautiful white dress with an A-line cut, sweetheart neckline, and cute little cap sleeves. I'm willing to bet none of my guests would guess the bride used to dance for men in nothing but a tiny thong.
You may not realize it, but there’s probably a stripper or two in your life. If you know a dancer, chances are she has done exotic dancing at some point in her life.
It makes sense. It’s a lot easier to make it as a stripper than it is to become the next star in the American Ballet Theatre. The job pays really well, too, compared to other dance gigs—which, by the way, are pretty much non-existent.
The truth is, in the years I worked as a stripper, I had co-workers from all walks of life.
One, for example, was a married mother of a baby who liked that the nighttime work hours allowed her and her husband to take care of their child at home in shifts.
Of course, most of them were students who used the money from stripping to pay for their education. I know ex-strippers who are now lawyers, academics, and psychologists.
People seem to think that having worked as a stripper says something about your character, or your moral fiber.
Honestly, the truth is much more mundane: it’s a job. And, just like any job, some parts of it rock and other parts of it suck.
I don’t have any emotional hangups about having been a stripper. I don’t think it’s dirty or degrading.
Maybe I’d feel differently if I had also prostituted myself on the side. But I’ve never had sex for money—not that I judge the girls who do.
And that’s the real problem, at least for me personally: the judgment.
I don't even blame the people who judge me. They can't help it.
The human brain is meant for recognizing patterns. If you’ve had a bad experience with a stripper, or if your only experience is what you see on the media, then you’d paint all strippers with the same broad brush. It's only human.
I'm glad Jacob managed to hide my past. By doing that, he has given me the freedom to be myself. I used t
o squash certain parts of myself so I don't attract the attention of curious people, who’d inevitably find out who I used to be.
Now, knowing my past is safely hidden, I can be myself. I even changed my hair color back to my natural red. Everyone complimented me on it.
But the only person who sees and loves all versions of me is Jacob. When he gave me that ruby ring, I felt like he reached into my chest and touched my heart with his fingers. I felt like he saw the real me, like he knew me better than anyone else, like he really cared about me.
I peek out of the white tent to see the townspeople wandering the clearing by the lake, where Jacob proposed to me only a few months ago.
We decided on a quick engagement and a summer wedding. We invited everyone we know: Bertha, Tony and his whole family, Jacob's friend Matt, my students, my colleagues, and our neighbors—except for Christine, who’s still in jail. Jacob’s parents also flew in from Costa Rica and, to my relief, they like me.
I wonder how many Ashbourne residents have never been here before, and if we're going to see more visitors here. It would be annoying, having to share this special place with everybody else. I mean, where else are we supposed to go next time we forget to make restaurant reservations?
At the same time, I feel like this is another way for me to give back to the town that has given me so much, like sharing this place is my way of showing gratitude.
Both Jacob and I have so much gratitude for Ashbourne. Gratitude for taking us in, for being our home. We're lost, homeless people, Jacob and I, and we’ve finally found our place in the world.
“It's time,” Bertha says with a smile. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Outside, music starts to play. Some of my students who play instruments have eagerly agreed to being our band. I don't know much about music, but I think they sound just as good as professionals.
Bertha and I emerge from the tent with our arms linked together. She's the closest thing to a parent I have, and I didn't even think of having anyone else walk me down the aisle.
She's such a sweet woman. When she found out about what happened with Christine, she tearfully apologized for having shared the information.
