Jake: I’ve been by the shop and your apartment. I’m starting to worry, and Bianca won’t tell Marshall anything.
Jake: Please just reply so I know you’re okay.
“Charleigh?”Mom questions.
“No, I didn’t talk to him. I ran off and then came here so he couldn’t find me.”
“Sweetie,” her hand stills. “You need to talk to him. I know it’s scary, but maybe there’s a good reason for what happened today. Besides, if this boy is someone you even think you can have a serious relationship with, which is the case by how upset you are, you need to learn how to talk through your problems.”
“I’m terrified, Mom.” I sigh. “What if he doesn’t feel as strongly about me as I do him? What if I’m not enough for him?”
“Your phone has been making all kinds of noises since you got here. I’m almost certain that you mean a lot to him.”
She taps my shoulder, waiting until I’m sitting up before she frames my face with her hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then I want you to go home, call him, and talk it out.”
I nod. Though her tone is gentle, it’s not a suggestion. It’s time to put my big girl panties on and deal with what life throws at me.
* * *
The walkup the stairs to my apartment is somber. I’m freaking out on the inside, but mostly I’m just sad. I’m not sure what’s going to happen after I call him, but I hope my heart isn’t completely shattered in the end.
I stop in my tracks and can’t believe what’s right in front of me. Jake is slumped against my door, eyes closed as if he’s sleeping. He looks like hell. It’s only been roughly six hours since I ran from him, but I can tell he’s been in turmoil.
One step forward is all it takes for his eyes to open and his head to whip in my direction. “Charleigh.” My name is a whispered breath on his lips.
The tears welling up in my eyes can’t be helped. I’ve never had someone sit outside my door waiting for my arrival. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A few hours?”
“Why didn’t you go home? I was just about to call you.”
He stands up, taking tentative steps toward me. “You weren’t answering my texts. I want to explain what happened and didn’t know when you would be home. So, I waited.” He reaches out a hand to me, hoping I’ll take it. When I don’t he adds, “Besides, this is a conversation I would rather have in person.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. A part of me wants to turn around, march right down those stairs, get in my car and drive. But the other part, the part that is falling head over heels for him, wants to hear him out.
“Okay,” I reach past him, shove my key into the lock, and twist it until I can open the door. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Please,” he says. He doesn’t make a move to follow me. Doesn’t try to get close to me. He walks to the sofa and takes a seat on the far end. It’s weird seeing him in that area. When we came over before, he would sit in the middle until I decided where I wanted to be and adjust accordingly.
I hand the bottle of water to Jake before taking a seat opposite him, not wanting to sit close in case I don’t like whatever it is he has to say. “Whos baby were you with?”
“Wow, not even giving me a chance to open my mouth before you hit me with the hard questions.” He sets the bottle down without even taking a drink. “That’s Layla, my daughter.”
My mouth drops open. He has a fucking kid? How did that not come up in any of the conversations we’ve had? That seems like a pretty big thing to just skip over.
“I know it comes as a surprise to you.” His shoulders sag, utterly defeated. “I didn’t want to tell you in case we didn’t work out. She’s a big part of my life, and I was worried you wouldn’t be able to accept that.”
“I wasn’t even given the option to be okay with it.” I’m fuming. How dare he assume that I wouldn’t be accepting of him having a child. What kind of person does he think I am? “How could you think I wouldn’t accept that? She’s your child, Jake. I’m not some heartless bitch. I knew you were hiding something, I just didn’t know what it was. And while we’re on the subject, who was that girl?”
Now is the perfect time to lay it all out there. The second my question registers his back stiffens. My stomach drops, expecting the worst to come out of his mouth.
“She’s my ex-girlfriend, and Layla’s mother.”
“And y’all are just all chummy best buddies?” Jealousy is heard loud and clear in my voice. I can’t help it. I might be a tad bit territorial about those I care about. And I care about him deeply.
“Actually, I’m surprised she even lets me have a relationship with Layla. I was pretty shitty to her during the pregnancy.” He takes a long drink of water. “Hell, I couldn’t even go to the hospital because I was terrified of being a parent. Of turning out like my parents.”
“So why was she there while you were having your time with Layla?” I question. I don’t mean to sound petty. I really don’t, but I’ve never seen exes with a child get along with some sort of relationship.