The Carrero Solution (Carrero Book 3)

I yawn, stretching out like a satisfied cat in the silky comfortable bed, my mind taking moments to come to terms with where I am. Fully rested for the first time in days, and for a second, I forgot everything.

Jake is close by, his arms around my waist, his legs across mine, but he’s sound asleep. I take a minute to evaluate how I feel about waking up this way. I slowly pull myself free from his embrace and sit in the bed, pulling my knees to my chest and sighing.

Confusion still present? Check.

Emotions all over the place? Check.

Still not further forward in how I feel about him. Check.

Just friggin dandy!

It’s late in the day, past eleven am. I don’t remember the last time I slept this much, so I sit and watch him sleep a little longer. The longing to reach out and touch him overwhelms me, so I slide out of bed and go to the shower, locking the door for the first time ever. I’m not ready for anything to happen between us and need some time alone to stand under the massaging jets of water and think of nothing. I don’t regret being here or sharing a bed with him, my heart needs it, and I meant it when I said I wanted to come home. This is where I belong, and Sarah is right; I can only begin to forgive him by being here, surrounded by him, and taking everything a day at a time. I don’t know when things will feel better for me, but I love him, and I can’t bear for it to be the end. I need him.

Does this mean a part of me has decided to give him a chance?

I stop for a moment to blink through this thought. I guess a part of me knew from drunk dialing him that I wasn’t ready to end things. I wasn’t prepared to live a Jake-less life, but it doesn’t mean I can’t walk away. I need to see how this goes, see if I can move on, and get back to what we had.

If I can’t, then I’ll go.

When I wander through to the bedroom draped in a warm fluffy robe, the bed is empty, and the covers are strewn messily, but the smell of coffee and food is wafting through the walls. I pull my robe tighter and rub my hair with the towel, then leave it down to air dry; it’s at its waviest when damp.

The internal war inside me seems to be giving me a break for now; it’s like she’s holding her breath, just waiting to see how things develop. For once, I’m glad of the lack of constant emotional torture and this new relative peace sweeping through me. I guess a decent night’s sleep with no night terrors has helped immensely.

I wander through to find Jake sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee in T-shirt and sweatpants. He looks better, is less tired and ruffled, and has damp hair. He smells divine. He’s trimmed his stubble and sorted his hair. He seems like normal Jake, not yesterday’s slightly tired and rumpled version. Something I wasn’t aware I was aching to see until now.

He smiles at me when I approach, wide and happy, uncovering a plate of croissants, bacon, and pancakes for me; my breakfast of choice from one of my favorite local deli. I slide onto a stool beside him and watch as he pours an orange juice before sliding it in front of me with a peck on the cheek. I pause at the affectionate touch, waiting for the pain or the image of her, but nothing comes. Just the warmth of his skin on mine. He seems to sense my hesitation but returns to his coffee without a word. I’ve no clue about how we’re meant to do this, touching or not, cuddling or not. I’ve no idea if I want it or not.

Despite having zero appetites the last few days, I’m ravenous and dig in in silence. I didn’t eat at all yesterday. We’d slept the day and night away. Catching up on rest from days of emotional angst and insomnia, food has been the last thing on my mind.

I’m aware of Jake’s eyes on me a few times but concentrate on eating without looking his way. My head is calmer today, and I’m more positive, but there’s still a can of worms waiting to be opened; not sure I even want to try to prize it open yet.

“What do you want to do today? Stay here and talk? Or go somewhere else and talk?” Jake’s voice cuts into the quietness of my brain. He drops his fork and lifts his coffee mug, eyes on my profile, watching me eat.

“Maybe we could go for a drive?” I say shyly. “I don’t think there’s much left to say, to talk about, I mean … We can only see how it goes.” I swallow hard. I’ve no idea why this makes me nervous; talking has never been my strong point, but indecision is not something I’ve ever dealt with. It’s knocking me off kilter, so I focus, a little more intently, on eating my food.

“I told you, Emma, whatever you want. Whether it’s to talk or not if it’s to take you places and distract you, or even to sit in silence. Whatever you need, I need you to tell me.” His fingers come to brush my free hand, and I watch, mesmerized, as he trails the tips over my knuckles on the countertop. So softly, it’s barely a tickle, but it feels natural and right, my own body betraying me once again.

Pathetic, Emma.

“Right now, I don’t want to think anymore, Jake. I just want to relax and not feel anything for a little while. Pretend that everything is normal.” I sigh heavily, pushing away PA Emma’s voice in my head.

“Don’t hide inside your head, Bambina. I know your impulse is to block it out and push it away with all the other things that hurt you … But please, not this. We have to deal with this properly, Neonata, so it never comes back to hurt us again.” He turns in his seat, pulling my stool between his open knees so I’m nestled close to him. Letting him wrap himself around me all night has permitted him to proceed with his touchy old Carrero self. I know I should be setting limits, making him keep his distance, but I don’t. My body is yearning for his soothing touch, a relaxing balm for me today. I went days without it, and it was agony. Now my body is making up for its loss.

“I know.” I can’t help glancing at him, his knuckles coming to graze my cheek gently, the fluttering inside of me at his touch even now. I pull my face away and bite my lip as his hand drops between us. Even after what he’s done, I’m responding and feel angry at myself.

“Where do you want to drive to?” His voice is softer with being so close, and his gaze is intent on my mouth. I can tell how much he wants to kiss me, and it only makes the fear inside me lift higher.

That kiss invites her into my head, all the pain of what he did, and I’m not ready to deal with that right now. I turn away so I’m not tempted and push my empty plate aside. I look out across the open-plan room and sigh, knowing that he’s reading every signal I’m giving off with apprehension, probably overanalyzing every one. Being so near him has my head in chaos about what I want from him, blurring the lines of how much touching I can bear to allow.

“I don’t know … just anywhere, somewhere pretty. Somewhere that’s not here.” I shrug. I don’t know why I want him to drive me anywhere. Maybe the motion of the car and Jake being the one in control somehow make it feel better. It means I can take a time out from life while he focuses on the road, and maybe we can listen to music and not talk.

I don’t want to talk. I’m scared that if I start talking

about everything, about her and the baby, if she still

means anything to him and our life, then it will all come crashing painfully in on me like a fragile tower of cards. Today I want quiet and calm and to be with him. The past few days have taken a toll; this little respite is like a breath of warm air in the frost. I want a time out, and nowhere in the rules of whatever this is does it say that I can’t have that.

“Okay … Your wish is my command, beautiful. Do you need me to take you to Queens for clothes first?” His fake jovial tone makes me falter, and I hate that it’s not genuine, that we’re hurting each other this way. I inhale heavily, trying to get at least one breath that doesn’t come laced with pain.

“Later. I’ll keep on the clothes you brought me yesterday, seeing as all I’ve done is sleep.” I can’t explain the weird way I feel, but all I want right now is to get out, go somewhere where no one knows us, where I don’t need to explain anything to anyone. Sarah would ask questions, but I need reflection and silence and maybe him.

Okay, definitely him.

I’m still tired, and I’m a little lightheaded despite eating. All the recent emotional turmoil and lack of food and sleep have taken their toll on me, and now playing catch up.

“Can we go now?” the apartment is closing in on me, and restlessness is kicking in. If I keep sitting here, near him, like this, I’ll want to kiss him, which would lead to touching. Then I’d want him all over me, inside me, and I’m not ready to take that step just yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. It’s too confusing with him being close enough to inhale.

“Sure, go get ready. Which car do you want to take?” He slides his mug beside his empty plate, and I sigh, pushing myself up from the bar stool.

“The Bat-mobile.” I smile shyly at him, knowing a ride in his pride and joy will make him happy, and right now, I want to hear it genuinely in his voice and not just play pretend.

“Lucky for you, I keep it downstairs.” He grins merrily at the mention of his toy and slides out of his chair, stooping down to kiss me behind the ear, thoughtlessly, before picking up his phone and walking toward the bedroom. I falter at his touch but take a deep, steadying breath.

Make a choice; either he’s allowed to touch you and throw affection your way, or he’s not. You’re only confusing him and yourself by not deciding whether he can or not.

I swallow the ball of emotion rising in my throat and head toward the bedroom to get dressed.

I just don’t know, okay!