Book TRK
Chapter 33
Chapter 33
“It still weirds me out you know?” I turn back to Emma as she gestures towards the kitchen, guiding me to our favorite place to sit and catch up. It’s like no time has passed, and I was only here yesterday.
“What does?” Emma smiles back at me, catching my arm in hers as she pulls me along.
“You two being like a proper mom and dad and popping out kids galore. Jake, even with his still lingering reputation, being that doting dad you see rolling around the dirt with his kids and having princess tea parties with Mia.” I shake my head at that particular memory. Mia went through a phase of sit down tea parties with her stuffed animals, where only Jake was allowed as a guest; he endured many while wearing various hats and pink capes, all the while still acting like it was totally his thing.
“He’s a born father, he loves his kids, and he’s the one who keeps pushing for more. This is all a good fit for him. I guess he was born to be a family man, despite his crazy lifestyle when I met him.” Emma runs a hand over her larger than life bump with a sigh. It moves a little as Carrero junior number three shifts around in its mom’s belly and wonder what that feels like. I shake it off quickly and push it down with the fact I will never know what it’s like, as I will never have sex.
“A football squad in your future then, huh?” I giggle, picturing Jake with a million kids and being happy about it. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.
He’s clearly unstable.
“Most likely.” She beams back at me.
“Although he said this one will probably be the last. That you’re having a tough time with it, and he hates seeing you suffer.” I interject innocently, knowing Jake will already have said this to Emma more than once. They are one of those rare couples who communicate well and tell each other everything, about everything.
“He says that every time.” Emma laughs, bringing her gaze back to mine steadily.
She looks down over her bump with a non-descriptive expression, as though she isn’t sure how to feel about that. I watch her for a second, before moving past her in the kitchen and reach for the mugs by the coffee machine, a task as familiar as breathing. Emma takes a seat at the long low breakfast table by the window and waves out to her family as they catch sight of her. She smiles at them and I watch the sheer blissful adoration and contentment running across her face, the love for both her husband and children and feel a little envious.
“Jake loves babies, but he does not love seeing me pregnant and suffering. He swears every time that he’ll never do it to me again, and then he forgets what it’s like when that little bundle starts walking around. I swear the man is broodier than most women, and if he hasn’t got a baby on the way, or in a pram, then he wants another one.” Emma giggles, the glowing flush on her cheeks makes her seem soft and girly, as though still caught in the first throes of love, and I’m again hit with the deep well of envy. I want to know what it’s like to know that level of joy and completion and be content with your lot in life. To just be happy would be nice.
“So, will it be the last?” I ask curiously, pouring coffee from the machine and dumping creamer in it, trying to focus my thoughts on anything but my own selfish attitude for once, and internally chastise myself for it.
“Who knows? Jake still very effectively uses his sexpertise to bend me to his way of thinking, so I can never tell. And it’s not like his libido is ever an issue if we want another; sometimes I think he needs an anti-Viagra pill. I struggle to keep up with him, especially now we have some little darlings to run us ragged, and I once again resemble a beached whale.” Emma smiles, throwing back her trademark short and wavy tawny hair off her face. Her style hasn’t changed in so long, and she still looks as young and pretty as when I met her. Only difference is, being with Jake has changed her from a very controlled, tailored PA, to this warm maternal beauty, a shining example of love, with a weakness for feminine dresses.
“I can see you two having a football team before you’re done.” I slide the mug in front of Emma and push into the seat opposite her a little heavily. Knowing her and knowing us, I need to just get this over and done with so we can put it out of the way. It’s brimming there like the elephant in the room. “Are we going to get to the point or keep making small talk and pretend it’s not why I’m here?” I stare at her pointedly, a little hint of attitude brimming underneath that is in no way called for when it comes to her, but lately, it’s been like second nature to me.
“Nice to see you haven’t changed all that much, Sophs. Direct and doesn’t beat around the bush. You can cut the frost though, I am still capable of taking on stroppy Sophie, even though I weigh like five hundred pounds.” Emma smiles at me, turning fully into the table to face me head-on. No malice in her tone. “Always assuming I’m going to give you a hard time, so you go into ultra-defensive mode.” Emma lets go of her mug and pushes her hand over mine on the table loosely. “You should know me better by now. I don’t judge you, Miele, I never judge you.”
“No, but you have a way of making me feel guilty about everything, like you’re doing right now.” I sigh, sliding my hand free and placing it on my lap to fiddle with my other fingers defensively. Already that relaxed aura is slipping, and the tight knot of apprehension and anxiety forming a hard ball in my stomach. Emma narrows her gaze slightly, that quick brain evaluating how she should respond to me. Her effortlessly keen perception and ability to switch to suit a mood is one of the reasons she is one of the states most coveted children’s psychiatrists even in such a short time.
“How about you just talk, and I just listen. We shall take it from there and not rehash the past few months. You won’t get anything from a lecture or hearing how hurt and worried we all were.”
Emma ignores the withdrawal of contact and instead lifts her mug to take a slow sip, eyes on me carefully. Still, even years after thawing out and becoming a much softer person, she still has all the grace and mannerisms of the very controlled woman she once was.
“Is this the new method you counselors are using nowadays?” I smirk, knowing full well Emma is not currently working as a therapist in her children’s charity. Jake has one rule over Emma that he will never bend over no matter how much she flutters her lashes at him and that is she never works while pregnant. Something she lets him have, to cut down on his stress levels. Emma raises a questioning eyebrow. “Letting me think you’re not going to guilt me yet making me feel guilty with a sentence, reminding me that I am.” I shrug and lean back in my seat, stretching a little to relieve some of the tension in my muscles and sigh heavily. Always trying to push my moods into a more even keel lately and getting pissed at myself for the lack of ability in recent months.
“No, it’s just a method I find works with you.” Emma discards her mug and sits back, ready to listen, bringing a sense of calm to the table. I smile, despite myself, and shake my head at her. Hating that she always knows how to get through to me and yet glad that she does.
“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry I took off? I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to all of you? Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry I got so reckless and wild that my parents tried to control me, and I ran off like a spoiled brat after a tantrum? Yes … I did all of the above, and yes, believe it or not … I’m actually sorry about all of it.” I’m fragile still, hating the prying and the lectures I know will be coming with being back. Hate that to stay here, I’ll have to talk and explain and go back to therapy once more, so that everyone sees that I am trying to change. Hate that my last couple of years will be dissected until they are all sure I am mended, like I was once before, and won’t be able to relax until I am.
“No. I want to hear about you and how you’ve been doing, how you’ve been feeling. I want to know that you’ve been okay, been looking after yourself, and I want to know why you finally decided to come home.” Her tone even and bright, that deadpan but gentle expression influencing me to the same even mood.