by Ruby Lang
She glanced obediently at the spot where he gestured, and her gaze traveled up his sinewy forearms. They were indeed compelling. She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “Jake, your sleeves are rolled up.”
This fact did not slow him. “Sarah Soon, I love you. I want to tell the world. Or at least this table.”
She felt a flash of happiness, a bright beacon of euphoria that was quickly engulfed by fear.
He turned to the people sitting with them. “I want to propose a toast. To love!”
“Hear, hear!” Adam cheered.
Jake raised his glass. “I was not expecting this, to feel anything. I was fully prepared to not feel anything for a long time. Get through the day. Get through my work. I thought the best that I could do was live. And then there you were, more alive and vibrant, than anyone I’d ever seen.”
It was too much—too much love, too much generosity. She wanted to listen, put her hands on his face and have him tell her all of this. But she wanted to stop him, too, because her feelings had been jumbled all day and she was terrified. She could not possibly live up to his vision of her.
“I love this woman. I love her mouthiness and the fact that she has never been shy about telling me and everyone else exactly how she feels. I love you even when you’re angry, Sarah, because when you are angry, it is a mark of how deeply you care about something—about everything. Sarah Soon, you have no idea how good you are.”
“Please,” Helen muttered, “Sarah thinks the world of herself.”
But Jake heard her and turned to her. “No, she’s always trying and never satisfied—she’s always wanting herself and others to improve. That’s a mark that she always thinks she has to do better, not that she thinks she’s good. But does she appreciate how good she is already? I don’t know if she does. I am trying to be good enough for the person she already is. And I am glad that she is letting me grow.”
Even Helen was quiet after that. Then she held up her glass. “To my beautiful friends,” she said.
They all drank. Even Sarah, who wasn’t sure what to do with herself or what to say. She could feel the heaviness of tears behind her eyes. Again.
Fucking weddings.
Jake leaned in and whispered. “I love you, and I want you to know it. I want you to know that you are wonderful and good,” he whispered.
She shook her head. She wanted to be these things, but right now she felt like a mess. “It doesn’t matter how good I try to be—”
“It does.”
“I fail all the time. My body is fallible. I’m still human.”
“It matters,” he said fiercely.
She took a deep drink of champagne and willed herself not to say anything more. But he hiccupped and turned. Adam leaned over and patted him sympathetically. “That was so beautiful.”
Jake wiped away the tears in his eyes that she’d been afraid to shed.
“Men are emotional wrecks,” Helen said.
“We need to cut them off,” Sarah answered roughly.
A waiter came by. “More champagne?”
“Yes!” Adam and Jake chorused.
“NO!” Helen and Sarah shouted at the same time.
The waiter took in Jake’s strong forearms and former-pro hockey player Adam’s bulk. Then he shifted his gaze to Helen and Sarah.
He knew who was scarier. He backed away with a nervous smile.
The Maudlin Brothers pouted until they were served their cake. Then they began talking about graduate programs in social work and managed a sloppy exchange of phone numbers. Helen interjected a couple of times to help them along, pleased at their budding friendship. But Sarah didn’t know what to do with herself and how to feel. She loved Jake. She hadn’t said it back, but he didn’t need her to say it—and she loved him for that, too. But her emotions had gone up and down and sideways all day, and she was overwhelmed.
Most of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said.
She had lost confidence in her abilities—no, it wasn’t that exactly. She had lost confidence that ability had anything to do with it keeping her patients safe and alive—keeping her friends, keeping herself that way. And maybe these little tasks and quests that she’d been on for the last few months had been an attempt to prove that what she did mattered, even if she’d lost most of her faith in herself.
Jake believed in her. He saw her. His belief in her was almost casual in the way he didn’t even question it. He’d made a speech, and now he was chatting with Adam and eating cake. It was as if loving her was just a normal, easy thing for him.
God, that kind of trust was frightening.
As if responding to her thoughts, he gave her knee a squeeze, and tears welled up in her eyes again at the affection of it. It was moving—and terrifying to be the object of this amount of love. She could only sit there moving as little as possible for fear that more of her feelings and sobs would spill all over and around her.
Jake and Adam weren’t the only ones who had fallen under the spell of jazz, flowers, and samosas. Because as the band took a short break, a man at the head table stood up. “Lisa Lale,” said Petra’s mom’s date. “You are the most wonderful, precious woman I have ever met. This has been a magical night, and your daughters are amazing people. No wonder you are so proud of them.”
James Taylor was a red-faced man with a bushy beard. He looked happy, kind, and permanently bewildered. But there was no mistaking the glint in his eye. “I can’t wait another minute longer to say how much I care about you. I love you. Will you marry me?”
“Oh my gosh,” Lisa squealed. “Yes, James, I don’t want to waste any more of my life.”
“Oh shit,” the bride said distinctly through a mouthful of cake.
Chapter Twenty
Sarah drove Jake home and bundled him upstairs to bed. He made an effort to keep her there with him, but she was tired and needed to think, and he muddled her brain.
Plus, she had been around people all day—managing them all day. At least she and Helen hadn’t had to step in after Petra’s mom’s abrupt engagement. Ian had been quick and effective in soothing his new wife’s worries. That boded well for their marriage.
But now, Sarah was looking forward to having some time alone—at least that’s what she told herself. So she helped Jake take off his jacket, put a bottle of aspirin and a big glass of water by his bed, gave Mulder a pat, and drove herself home to be alone.
But her driveway was full of cars, and judging by the lights blazing from her windows, her parents were up.
Winston was there. As well as a blond woman who appeared tired and annoyed—although she was trying to hide it.
“This is your brother’s girlfriend, Kirsten,” Mr. Soon explained.
Sarah said hello, and Kirsten unbent to flash her a strained smile.
“Erm, what’s going on?” Sarah asked even though after the night she’d had, she was afraid of the answer.
It didn’t look like there’d been yelling—just . . . tension. For all Sarah could tell, they all could have been glaring at each other for the last two minutes or the last two hours.
“Not that I’m not glad to meet you, Kirsten, but why is everyone here?”
“Winston is not staying in that—a hotel. With Kirsten.”
In other words, they didn’t want Winston sleeping—or not sleeping—in the same bed as his girlfriend, and Winston didn’t have the guts to stand up to his parents and spare Kirsten this spectacle. Sarah’s gaze moved from her mother to Kirsten, to Winston—who was hovering protectively over her.
“How did you all end up here?” Sarah asked.
Her father said, “We wanted to take Winston out to dinner. We thought we would explore a bit. But Winston did not answer any of our texts, so we became worried. We took our car to his hotel, and your mother went up and knocked on his door and no answer.”
“And then?”
“And then what could we do? We looked for long, long time for a place to park. Too expensive ev
erywhere, but finally your mother saw a place behind us on the one-way street and she got out and stood in the parking spot and saved it until I got around again.”
“A driver tried to take it from me, but I stood there,” her mother added.
“And then we decided to find a place for dinner. It took so long. So we texted again and again. Then we ate anyway and came back to the hotel.”
“And your brother came into the bar, all messy, and he was kissing Kirsten. So we introduced ourselves.”
Hoo boy.
She could sense that her mother was struggling to contain herself. If Sarah weren’t tired and feeling crowded in her own house, she might have enjoyed the show. “Okay, so—uh—why is Kirsten here right now?”
“We are getting to know her,” her mother said tightly.
“It’s one in the morning.”
“Good point. I have the rental car. I’m going to drive Kirsten back to the hotel,” Winston said.
“No, you are not,” his mother said.
“Jesus, I’ll come back here.”
He got a glare for taking the Lord’s name in vain. “No more funny business. Your dad will drive her.”
“Dad has trouble driving at night. And he’s in a city.”
“How considerate of you, Winston,” Sarah couldn’t help saying.
“Sarah, you will drive her.”
Sarah shut her mouth and tried not to sink down where she stood. She was exhausted, and she was damn sick of dealing with them.
“How about we all stay here?”
“There isn’t enough room.”
“Or I can go to Jake’s. He lives less than five minutes away.”
It was funny how easy it was to say it—how good it was. She could just go to his place and be away from all this drama that her family drummed up over nothing.
She could trust him to take her in even when he was in a drunken sleep.
“Winston can stay with Jake.”
“Listen,” Sarah said in her best doctor voice. “It’s late. Everyone’s tired. All of this getting to know each other can hold till morning. I am going to make suggestions. Ma and Pa Soon, you do your thing. Winston, there are linens in the closet. You can take the couch, or . . . whatever. It’s not my business. Kirsten, you are very welcome to stay in the guest room that I’ve been sleeping in—but if you’d rather not, here’s a number for a cab.”
“I will drive Kirsten wherever she wants.” Winston’s voice held a faintly pleading quality as he looked at his girlfriend. And suddenly Sarah felt just a bit sorry for her brother.
Just a bit.
“Fine. You’re grown-ups—apparently. You sort yourselves out. I’m also a grown-up, and I’m really, really tired. I’m going to Jake’s. I have his car anyway.”
No one said anything this time.
• • •
Jake downed aspirin and the bottle of water Sarah handed him while she gave him a quick sketch of what had happened the night before. In truth, he didn’t have a hangover. He felt great, because even though he hadn’t known it, she’d spent the night.
She did not address his wedding speech.
However, it was pretty clear that she hadn’t slept much and was still tired. Jake was nearly shaking with impatience to talk to her about his impromptu declaration, but they would have plenty of time to hash it out later. Right now, they had to present a united front.
The Soons were not a brunching people. Jake and Sarah showed up early for a Sunday—8:00 a.m.—but Sarah’s dad was already out in the front yard weeding, and when they got to the dining room, there was a vase of fresh cut flowers, and a new, orange plasticky-looking table runner that, no doubt, her mom had bought at a bargain store to protect the wood. There was also a huge pot of some sort of brown rice and steel cut oatmeal porridge, tiny saucers of hot pickled bamboo, peanuts, pepitas, dried seaweed, sriricha, goji berries, and cut up apples and pears.
“This is sort of random,” Jake said, nonetheless helping himself to porridge and sprinkling pepitas over everything.
“You know my parents, always trying to make things healthy.”
“Where’s Mom?” Sarah asked Winston, who was sitting at the table surrounded by a few more empty bowls.
“I don’t know.”
It seemed that he’d eaten all the eggs and the smoked salmon.
But he looked terrible, so Jake didn’t say anything about it. Apparently Sarah felt the same. With some effort, she slid a smile over her face. “So. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, okay?”
“And your girlfriend? She’s feeling all right about all of this?”
He glared at her, and Jake tensed.
“Sarah Perfect again. Does the wrong thing and still gets welcomed into the fold. You even spent the night with Jake, and Mom and Dad didn’t say anything. While I had to sleep on your short, lumpy couch.”
“You didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to, Win,” Sarah said from between gritted teeth.
Jake wanted to smack him. Instead, he said, “Hey, Winston. Hey. Try not to be a jerk, all right?”
“Now you’ve got him twisted around your finger, thinking he can defend you all the time,” Winston said.
“Please. The only reason there’s a difference to how they treated us last night is because you ignored their texts and tried to sneak Kirsten to town and into your hotel room. I was at least open about going to Jake’s. I’m not saying that Ma and Pa handled this well at all—they are clearly working against their impulses. But at least they’re . . . changing?”
“People don’t change, Sarah.”
“I have to hope that they can, Winston.”
Winston turned to his old friend. “I remember when she used to make fun of you, Jake. She called you a Goody Two-shoes. She laughed with her swim team friends when one of them said I’d die a virgin. They said that you would, too.”
“Well, I guess we’ve taken care of that,” Jake said.
It was a crude strike—hitting both Sarah and Winston the wrong way. But Jake’s mouth didn’t feel like working. Winston’s words hung in the charged air bringing to life all of Jake’s own ugly memories of high school. Sarah kept her eyes down, and he hardly wanted to look at her.
She’d said all that stuff years and years ago. They’d been different people. Hadn’t he been hoping Sarah would put all of this behind her?
He still felt hurt, though. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her head to say something—to Winston. Not a word to him to explain or apologize. But a woman who Jake assumed was Kirsten chose that moment to walk in.
She looked warily at all of them. The room vibrated with tension. But Kirsten quickly put on a smile and introduced herself to him. She couldn’t have slept well.
“What are we fighting about now?” Kirsten asked, taking in Winston’s tense grip on the coffee spoon and Jake’s glare.
Sarah still hadn’t looked at him.
“Nothing,” Sarah said, her voice sounding so normal. “It’s nothing we’re going to get into before everyone is properly fed and caffeinated. Kirsten, would you like a cup? There’s milk and soymilk in the fridge. The sugar bowl is over there. And we have stevia.”
“I’ll take sugar, thanks. We’re still divided about the benefits of stevia.”
“Everyone got the stevia memo except me.”
“I’m a nutritionist.”
“I was going to introduce her—that was the plan,” Winston muttered. “I was just trying to ease everyone into it.”
“We do take some getting used to,” Sarah said, more to Kirsten than to her brother—or to Jake.
She still wasn’t talking to him. He wasn’t sure he could speak to her.
• • •
Jake was hurt. His jaw was tense, and his slumberous eyes were almost completely closed. She knew he was trying to tamp down his feelings, and she needed to apologize right now. She had to get Jake away from this table, from Winston, and from this goddamn stevia
.
The worst part was that she remembered those comments. She had laughed about it with her so-called friends. It hadn’t been funny, but she had gone along, and later those same people had turned against her. Then she’d railed against Jake for not defending her. She’d carried that grudge until that night they’d met up to get reacquainted. She had pounded on the scarred table in the sushi restaurant asking her why he hadn’t been a better friend, doubting that he had changed. But he’d apologized sincerely and promptly.
What had she done? How could she have forgotten so conveniently that she’d done similar things to him?
The memory filled her with shame. She knew she wouldn’t go along with that kind of talk now. But that was grown-up Sarah who knew it—the woman who eventually felt that same sting of contempt from those friends. She’d had to live through it in order to learn it. Past Sarah had been selfish and cowardly.
She needed to pull Jake away and talk to him. But first, she was going to kill Winston.
She turned to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, when Jake got up abruptly and stalked to the kitchen.
She half rose, too, muttering to her brother, “At least give Kirsten some fruit, dickwad, instead of eating it all yourself. Just because the bowl is closer to you doesn’t mean you own it.”
“No thanks,” Kirsten said. “I’m good.”
Winston stuck out his tongue at her and stuffed a slice of apple in his mouth.
Don’t get distracted. Go to Jake. But old habits died hard. “At least pass some fruit over.”
“Get it yourself.”
At the last minute, he shoved the bowl across the table, and it slid right across her dining room table, past their shocked faces, and shattered on the floor, scattering apple and pear and glass shards everywhere.
There was a silence.
“Winston!”
That was Kirsten. She had sprung up. Jake emerged from the kitchen and blinked at the wreckage. There was a short pause, then he started picking up the bigger, jagged pieces, carrying them carefully to the kitchen garbage.
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
Winston sounded like a little boy.
“That was my bowl!”
