56 Days (Black) (10 page)

I rubbed my hand along his spine.  “Okay, we can deal with this.  How far along is she?”

“Seven months.”

“Okay.  Only eight weeks left… maybe sooner if she delivers early, right?  We’ll just wait.  If you’re not the father, we’ll have a party in celebration.  If you are… we’ll have a different kind of party in celebration, okay?”

He turned to me and pressed his lips to mine.  “How did I get so lucky?  I mean,
how?”

I smiled.  “Well, you can thank my sister, I guess.  If she wasn’t such a wreck, I would have never met you that night.”

“I went to the clinic today,” he said, smiling.  “I couldn’t wait another minute to really be with you.”

“Oh,” I replied.  “I’ll go this week too.
  I’ll call today before they close.”

He kissed me hard, wrapping his arm around my waist.  “Thank you,” he breathed,
“for everything.  For being you… I mean, you could leave me and no one would blame you.  Are you sure about this?”

I kissed him again.  “I don’t want to
go anywhere.  I’m crazy about you, too.”

Was I crazy?  He was right.  I could back out now.
  Go about my everyday life and never look back.  Just have fond memories of this guy I met who was really great and crazy good in bed.  Couldn’t I?
I mean, he gave me an out.  I just didn’t want it.

This was serious.  He could very well be the father of this baby… tied to Lana forever.  The manipulative bitch (his words, not mine).  Would I want a woman like that in my life?  Because, if he was the father, we would have to see her.

And I planned
on being around.

Secretly, I was going a bit insane.  I couldn’t show him that side of me.  I had to pull it together and act like none of this mattered.

I wanted my own kids someday.  What if this kid hated me? 

I was filled with irrational thoughts from one minute to the next.  I just needed to focus on work and Jack for the next eight weeks.  Keep my mind off of Lana.

*****

Jack had pretty much moved in.  He still went to his studio every morning when I left for work, but my evenings were filled with him.  We were turning into some sort of bizarre domestic unit. 

He cooked every night and even made lunches for me in the mornings.  I couldn’t remember the last time I brought a homemade lunch to work.

He cleaned and rearranged half of the stuff in my kitchen.  Honestly, it was a hundred times better… and gave me more space.  But I couldn’t tell him that
.  Instead, I just walked around, rolling my eyes, complaining that I couldn’t find anything.

That Friday,
as we were finishing up breakfast, he dropped another bomb on me.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

“Jack, I don’t know.  I’m not exactly the kind of girl that parents like.  I would have to wear an outfit that I hate and control my swearing… and basically not be me.”

He came up and wrapped his arms around me.  “Don’t do that.  Don’t wear something that you hate… and say whatever you want.  They
’re cool, I promise.  We have dinner together most Monday nights.  Come with me this Monday.  Wear the sluttiest thing you own,” he teased.

“We haven’t even told Rachel and Vince.”

“They know, baby,” he whispered.  “Come on.  You answered the phone in my studio when he called last week.  Vince isn’t stupid, El.  Besides, he asked me about you.  I didn’t give him much, but I didn’t lie.”

“Jesus Christ, Jack.  Why?”

“Because, I’m not ashamed of you, Elsa.  You’re the one who hasn’t introduced me to a single friend… or told your mom about me.  We’re in a committed relationship.  It’s not like I’m Dave.”

Whoa.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not married.  I understand why you wouldn’t want to introduce him to your friends… but, unless I embarrass you, I don’t understand why you don’t want me to meet your people.”

“I don’t have any people!”

There.  I said it. 

I didn’t make friends easily.  I had my sister and Gemma.  And now, Jack.  That was about it.  Everyone else, I kept at an arm’s length.

“What do you mean?” he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I pulled away and marched into the bedroom to get dressed.  He followed.

“What do you mean?” he repeated.

“I have
you
.  Rachel.  Gem.  That’s it, Jack.  That’s what I mean.  I know some other girls, but it’s not like we’re in some sort of BFF club.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing my back.  “Well, in that case, let’s invite Gemma to dinner.”

Oh, God.

“Jack…”

“Tomorrow night.  I’ll cook.  Tell her and her husband to be here at 7.  I’ll bring a small temporary table over later today so that we don’t have to eat on pillows around the couch,” he teased.

“Kind of late notice, bab
e.  They probably have plans for a Saturday night already.”

He laughed.  “You told me that Gem spends her weekends watching Netflix marathons and that
he was some sort of tech-nut-slash-gamer.  Just ask her.  Ten bucks says they come.”

He was
probably right.  Gemma was jumping at the chance to meet Jack.  She was obsessed with him.

“Fine… you don’t have to walk me today.  I’m okay to go alone.”

He pulled on his boots and shoved my loose key in his pocket, the same routine he had every morning.  “You say that every day,” he replied, giving me a swat on the backside.  “Move it.”

*
****

As suspected, Gemma was doing cartwheels over the invitation.

“Are you sure that Dan doesn’t have plans?” 

She smiled at me.  “Nope, you don’t get to do that.  Besides spending three hours playing World of Warcraft or something, what the fuck is he doing?”

“You should probably call him, just in case,” I replied.

“Well, if he has plans, I’m coming by myself.  How’s that?”

“God, Gem, he wants to meet people.  My friends, my mom… he wants me to meet his parents.”

“Whoa.  Sounds serious.  I met Dan’s mom when she walked in on him fucking me… from behind.
  Did I mention that we were in high school?  So, your meet has to go better than that,” she said, laughing.

“God, let’s hope.”

“What should I wear?” she squealed.

“Ugh… I don’t care.  Seriously, do I have to pick out clothes for you?”

“I’ll just wear something slutty.  He seems to like that on you,” she answered, flicking me with a towel.

“Fuck you, Cupcake Lady.”

*****

When I got home, Jack’s truck was parked out front.  Usually, he came around 5 or so.  He was early.

“Hey,” he called.  He was sitting on my couch wearing pajama pants and no shirt, flipping channels.

“No work today?”

“I’ve been working my ass off, honey.  Notice anything different?” he asked.

I looked around my small space, my eyes focused on my new addition.  He was serious about bringing me a table… and four chairs.  The table was round and thick
, painted in the most beautiful shade of pink. 

The chairs were all different styles, each one of them painted a different color.  Yellow, turquoise, orange, red.  All of the furniture was
manually distressed; he had to have taken so much time to finish each piece.

I turned to him.  “Oh my God,” I breathed, tears welling in my eyes.  “How long have you been working on this?” 

I was crying now.  Just full-on sobbing.

He came up to me and put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a quick squeeze as I buried my face in his chest.  “I started Monday, I guess.”

“I love it,” I responded, my voice cracking.

He turned to face me.  “Good.  I hoped you would.  Listen, I want to talk to you about something…”

The door buzzer rang.  Buster ran to the door.

“Fuck,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.  “I’ll be back.  Hold that thought.”

I held the dog back and opened the door.  Dave stood there wearing one of his fucking stupid designer suits, hair slicked back, holding a bouquet of lilies.  Looking at him now made me sick to my stomach.  I couldn’t believe that I had once cared about him.

“What do you want, Dave?”

“I want a chance to talk to you.  We had something really good and then I don’t know what happened.  You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

“No,” I replied, “Charlotte explained it all.  I got the gist of the whole thing.  You were fucking me while you were married.  That about sum it up, dick?”

He took a deep breath and blew out.  He had been drinking, I could smell it.  “Do you even know who you’re with in there, honey?  Oh yeah, I’ve been doing my own research.  And that guy is fucking married.  Wife, Lana Conti.  29 years old.  Living in Bucktown.  Check up on it.”

“That guy,” I said, pointing in the direction of my living room, “is
actually divorced, unlike you.  Do your fucking research
better
.  I know about Lana.  Go home, Dave.  I don’t know how to spell this out other than to just say that I don’t love you anymore.  That guy is ten times the man you are.  Don’t come here again, you aren’t welcome.  I love
him
… not you.”

I slammed the door.

Jack was sitting on my couch, a smile spread across his face.  “You love me?”

“Ah, fuck,” I whispered, turning and heading into the bedroom.

He followed me in.  “You love me?” he asked again.

“Jack, you weren’t supposed to hear that… I just needed to get rid of him…”

He cut me off by pressing a mind-blowing kiss to my lips.  “I’m going to ask you one more time.  Do you love me?”

I studied him.  “I…
I know it’s totally fucking ridiculous and I wanted to tell you myself… like a thousand years from now… but…”

“I love you, too, El.  I’ve wanted to tell you since the first night we were together in Michigan.  I’m totally fucking ruined by you.  You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a
woman… everything.  I mean that.  I have never felt a fraction about anyone the way I do about you.”  He pressed a hundred kisses to my face.  “Move in with me.”

Double whoa.

“What?” I asked.

“Move in with me.  That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  I was nervous about asking you before… I wasn’t sure how you felt about me, but I know it’s right.  We’re right together… right?”

“That’s a lot of rights.”

“Right?” he joked.

“I have a lease here.”

“I know.  I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t want to live there with Jeremy renting.  I avoid your place like the plague, babe.”

“Done.  He moves out at the end of the month.”

“What if you get tired of me?” I whispered.

He pulled me into his chest, running his hands through my long hair.  “Impossible.”  He pulled back, placing his hands on my face.  “I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he
shouted, jumping in place.

Oh, Lord.

“Okay,” I repeated, “but I don’t know about living in Edgewater.  What the fuck am I supposed to do about work, Jack?  I don’t want to leave the bakery… Gem’s my only friend and I…”

“I’ll sell.  We can
move wherever you want.  I only bought that place because of the studio out back.  I can find another place with a work space.  The store can stay in Edgewater.  I do most of the actual work at the studio anyway.  We can keep your place temporarily and I’ll stay here with you.  If I sell, I can move my stuff into storage and we’ll buy a place together.”

“Jack, you want to buy a place together?”

“I know you hate my place.  It’s not very ‘Elsa-friendly.’  So, we can look for a place that is.”

“I don’t have any money, Jack.  I can’t help with a down payment.”

“It’s fine,” he answered.  “With the profits from the sale of my place, plus the 85 I have in the bank, we should be more than set.”

“You have
eighty-five hundred dollars in the bank?”  My mouth gaped.

He smiled.  “
Eighty-five
thousand
, El.”

This was a lot to take in.  Like, a lot.
  I lived paycheck to paycheck.  I was lucky if I had 85
dollars
in the bank at any given time. 

I didn’t have any time to think about it before Jack started to undress me. 

“Shoes.  Take them off,” he ordered.

I slid off my wedges and kicked them into the corner.  He pulled my tank top over my head and made quick work of the clasp on my bra.  He was an expert
at clasp work.  After unbuttoning my short skirt, he pushed it down my hips, grabbing the strings of my underwear and sliding those off as well.

He pushed me back on the mattress with a bounce.  I laughed. 

He tugged on the drawstring of his pants and shimmied out of them.  Luckily, he rarely wore underwear; it definitely sped up the process.

We had both gotten our test results earlier in the week and had basically been indecent every day, doing it up against the counter, in the closet, on the couch… everywhere but in bed.  This was a nice change.  We could take our time.  I could thank him properly for my new table and chairs.

He tossed his glasses on the dresser, crawled on top of me and stared.  Just stared.

“What?” I asked, embarrassed.

“I’m just so relieved that you said that you loved me.  I’ve been a ticking time bomb for weeks, but I was afraid to say it.  I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”  He leaned close and laid a wet kiss on my lips, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth.

“What kind of bitch do you think I am?  I wouldn’t leave you for telling me that you were in love with me.  That’s a punk move, man.  Girls love sappy stuff, even if they aren’t ready for it.  Lucky for you, I was ready.”