The Carrero Solution - Starting Over: Jake & Emma (The Carrero Series 3)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I stare at the folded paper in my hand, with shaking fingers, the envelope discarded, now lying on the bed with his neat scroll on the front. I take an eternity to run my fingers across the neat lettering, pain shooting through me from every angle. I inhale deeply steadying my nerves, unfolding the thick cream paper, biting my lip. I drag courage from somewhere telling myself I should dive in and do it.

Emma,

I'm sorry, bambino, so extremely sorry. I don't even know what writing to you is going to achieve, but I had to do something. I saw them packing up every piece of you and I had to stop myself from tearing it out of their hands and holding onto it all. I can't bear it. I feel like everything they remove is a s***h across my heart.

I know I don't deserve you, I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'll do anything to have it, anything to get you back. I made a stupid mistake, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I wanted to lash out at everyone.

I'll never hurt you again, I swear, just give me a chance to

fight for you. I'll never give you reason to doubt me again.

I hurt the one person I love and need more than anything in the world.

I won't ever make that mistake again, being here without you is a torture, so unbearable I can't breathe. I can't get you out of my head or the way you looked at me when I told you what I'd done. It was like a knife being thrust deep into my chest and turned and I know what I've done. You don't need to punish me, baby, nothing is as bad as this and no punishment could come close to the pain I'm in right now without you. I've never felt regret like this before and never intend to earn it again.

Please. Talk to me. I just want to see you, look at you, and have you near.

I'm slowly going insane without you, baby. I need you. I love you and I can't, won't lose you. I'll fix this.

Just give me a chance.

Jake x

Tears roll down my cheeks dripping onto the paper and I watch in agony as some of the ink from his signed name bleeds across the surface. I watch in dismay as his name becomes a blur of stained grey and throw the letter on the bed as though it's burned me.

It hurts more than I thought it would, reading something he wrote for me, connecting to him in some small way. It hurts because I miss him, so damn much and I'm literally dying of pain. Everything he wrote makes me ache and want to see him more. I'm so confused; in turmoil about what to do. His words have cut me to the core with longing and anger, so much love from one man. Yet he's capable of cutting out my heart in one selfish childish act. I want him right here with me, but my mind wants to punish him by staying away.

I pull my phone out of the bedside drawer and switch it back on. I turned it off days ago, after his third text, unable to cope anymore, hoping to find relief in the silence. I needed a break to be alone and process things. It bursts back into life and I try to steady the inner wave of tears and fear waiting to drown me. I need to do this if I have any desire to move forward in any way. I need to see what he wants to say and decide where I go from there. Sarah is right. I can't dwell on hoping that I'll wake up fine tomorrow and forget all about it. The only way to sort this is to face it head on and start taking steps to either fix us or forget him.

When my phone is fully caught up, I flick to my texts from him, opening the oldest one unread in the row on display.

I love you and I miss you xx I'm sorry, baby. J

I bite my lip and quell the new onslaught of tears, moving to the next text quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid fast, trying to avoid the overemotional response to each one.

I wish you would just say something, anything. Even if it's to just yell at me and tell me you hate me. Silence is torture. Xxx J

My hand's tremble as I trace the words on my screen. My heart aching for him like a pathetic i***t. My fingers hover on the kisses longingly for a moment before I shake myself out of it. I notice under the third message is one more; a new one received when my phone was off, updating now.

Tell me what to do. What you need from me. Talk to me. Please. Xxx J

Another punch in the gut and another tear to my collection, I sigh, biting back the tremble on my bottom lip and push the next one open.

I can't do this; I'm going to end up banging down your door just to see you. Please, Emma. Reply or something. I got every bunch of flowers, every piece of jewelry, and every gift sent back to me. Emails ignored; texts ignored. You're not giving me any choice but to show up and fight for you, baby. I love you too damn much to let this go and I'm going crazy with this silence, we had so much, too much, to just let it end this way. Xxx J

My breath catches in my throat at the last one, a mix of heartbreak and something else, a tingle of something I can't even pinpoint. I should be angry with the way he's text me but strangely I'm not. He should be groveling at my feet for my forgiveness.

This is the Jake I need to see. The one who ignores all and comes pounding after me regardless. The Jake who came after me to Chicago despite me saying no. The Jake who always pursues me because he can't help being the dominant one.

Do I want Jake to show up and break down my door just to see me? Prove to me he will fight for me? Maybe I do. Maybe it's partly what I need from him, that instinctual way he cuts through everything, to come for me regardless of protest.

I shake the thought aside and open my email app, logging into my personal account quickly, before I can linger on my confusing thoughts, there are two.

Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes song.

Jake Carrero has sent you Beyoncé–Halo.

Attached message – I never had a way to resist letting you in, you're my angel baby. The light in my world, the reason I want to be better, you're in everything I look at, you're always around me even when you're not here. You're the voice in my head that tells me to be a better man. I waited a lifetime to find you and I'm not going to lose you now. Talk to me Emma, Please. I need to know what you're feeling and thinking. I won't just lose you without a fight. Xx J.

The use of our old mode of communication hits me like a punch to the heart; painful yet not. Memories of how sweet he can be, how attentive, funny, and loving. It confuses me more and despite myself I press play on the song as I agonize over his sweet words.

Listening to it almost breaks me, more tears and more internal assault, as I imagine Jake saying every single word to me. I can't stop the ache of longing or the insane depths to which I miss him. Each lyric clawing at me reminding me of all the good in him and the way he shows me love, the way he's always expressed his devotion without any hesitation, it hurts so much.

When the song ends, it lingers in my head for a while before I have the strength to read his last email. Thoughts of his touch, his kiss, his heart like a bittersweet torture.

I tried your cell and got your answering machine a dozen times. I hate that you don't want to talk to me. Just tell me what to do, baby … Please. I'm literally on my knees begging here. Xxxx J

I have no clue in which order the emails and texts were sent, my head too frazzled to care. The point is I've done it. I've read them, despite the emotional turmoil, the tears, and the ache to see him and yet, I'm still breathing.

The salty warm tears are pouring down my face and I slump back onto my bed staring at the ceiling, my head a whirling mass of crazy emotions and thoughts. I don't know what to say to him or what I need from him. I've never been here before, never dealt with this kind of heart ache, or been in a situation where I've freely given my trust away only to have it wrenched apart like a worthless rag. The thought of never seeing him again destroys me but the thought of him brings a full vision of his mouth on hers that tortures me. I'm so stuck between two excruciating realities I can't breathe.

I hold the phone above my face and read his texts once more, wanting his nearness through the only contact I've allowed. My heart constricts and twists inside of me. I devour the messages over and over, memorizing them until etched into my heart, absorbing the words, letting the slice of agony they cause dim. Trying to find calm in my chaos yet still being connected to him in some small way.

What do I say? If I say nothing he'll come here at some point, I know him. Jake won't sit back forever and wait. Do I even want him to come?

I don't know if that's what I want; my mind and body are at odds with one another, fighting a grand battle to the death. Self-preservation, PA Emma, telling me to keep him out, the new weaker me begging to let him come.

I sit up, take a deep breath, and wipe my face, steeling myself to do this; to do something. I don't want him to sit suffering with my silence indefinitely, despite the pain he's caused me. I can't do that to him. I can't keep inflicting silence when he's trying in any way possible to reach out to me. My hands tremble as I impulsively type a response.

I needed head space to think. I'm confused and heartbroken. You hurt me. I don't know what I need from you so how can I tell you what to do? X Emma.

I look at the text before I send it then inhale heavily, emotions swirling up again, my hands shaking violently. If I don't know how to deal with my head, then what chance does he have? This day may kill me after all.

My phone beeps seconds later. My heart skipping a beat, and when I swipe my phone my fingers shake.

Let me pick you up so we can talk face to face. X J

I inhale sharply as panic sets in knowing it's too soon. I don't know if I can handle seeing him right now. My heart bleeds that he's so quick to connect, like he's been waiting, it feels like he's right here beside me. But he's not, he's somewhere alone, mirroring what I'm doing, touching me instantly when I need him, like he always has done.

What happens if I can never handle seeing him again? What happens if this destroys everything, so I can never move on? Maybe it's better to try to see what happens rather than hide and die a slow painful death of heartbreak?

I grab onto my hair at the temples of my head tugging in frustration, my emotions and brain are tormenting me relentlessly. I can't pick one path to follow and it's driving me insane.

I take my phone from my lap and stare at it, taking a deep and calming breath before deciding what to do and what to say.

Not yet. I need time to digest all the messages and your letter. I only just read them. Give me time, that's all I ask. My response to your song, Jake, Beyoncé, "Broken-Hearted Girl"

I sigh with a deflated breath as it sends onto him. My heart aching a little, but I can't see him, not yet. This war raging inside of me, relentlessly consuming my thoughts, needs to be dealt with first. The song expressing the craziness of what's going on inside of me. I'm scared about his response, holding my phone with bated breath. I wonder if he'll listen to the song, pondering it and then my phone beeps.

You're killing me, Emma. I'll do what you ask. Xxx I love you so much.

I don't feel any better with his response, an inner wave of disappointment that he's not trying to change my mind. Anger boils up inside of me, coming from nowhere, and with it the impulse to smash my phone off a wall.

What the hell is wrong with me? What is with my undying need to make Jake come after me and devour me?

It was the same when we fought after Arrick's birthday. My anger wanted him to take me with a vicious passion, as though he had no control, and now here I am angry because he isn't ignoring my wishes and pushing his way here to see me. It's like I need the extreme from him. Maybe the lack of real love in my life growing up has caused this deep aching desire to have someone show their love in dominant ways. I can't begin to analyze that right now. All I know is I want him to take away my decision to not see him, let his own needs takeover, that's the Jake who swept me into his world. The guy who never took NO as an answer and pursued me regardless.

God. Maybe I do need therapy after all.

There's a gentle knock on my door and Sarah pops her head around warily. Her eyes flickering over me in a very analytical way; she's clearly assessing my mental state.

"Emma … honey? Are you up for a visitor? There's someone here to see you." She looks sheepish and my heart plummets in cold fear.

Oh, my God, he didn't?! He couldn't?! I really don't want to see him. Forget all that pushing his way in stuff … NO!

She sees my face pale visibly and immediately cuts in.

"No, no, not him … God no … That girl you told me about. Leila?" She smiles in an almost terrifying effort at bravery and I sag with breathless relief.

Oh lord … Leila.

I get up and start adjusting my casual, rumpled, clothes self-consciously. I must look like a fright. My hair is wild, my face is tear-stained and puffy, God knows how crushed and dirty my lounge wear is. Sarah takes my fussing as a cue to let Leila come in.

Within seconds the whirlwind that is Leila bounds in, dressed from head to toe in a gray tracksuit with fur trim and silver sparkly trainers. She's like my modern-day Fairy Godmother. A crazy combination of sporty woman and cute child. She practically knocks me over with the force of her hug and over energetic hand gestures.

"Jake is an actual f*****g idiot." She releases me enough to gaze up at me with angry eyes, carrying on her dramatic emphasizing sign language. "I told him as much before I threw the contents of his kitchen at him a couple of hours ago, complete f*****g i***t … I swear. Him and that shithead best mate of his both need a major f*****g brain overhaul."

"Leila, you did what?!" I gasp in shock, unsure if this is what I really want Jake to be enduring right now. I can visualize her fiery little self, causing chaos in his immaculate kitchen with her mad temper. Images of her mounting a full-on arsenal of pans and cutlery flies through my head as Jake ducks and weaves to avoid collision.

"Yeah I did! It's not like he can't afford some new gadgets and a clean-up crew. I'm just sorry I have such a s**t aim. He was stupid enough to tell me why you were no longer at the apartment; fuckwit!" She grins at me and I can't help but smile back, beautiful, crazy, little Leila. I wish that smile meant she was joking but I know it's unlikely. I would never like to be on the wrong side of that small blonde cyclone in full fury. I can only speculate that, despite his own ferocity even Jake was probably slightly scared.

"Please tell me you didn't mark that face though? As much as I hate him right now it would be devastating to know you ruined it." I catch her wrist as she fusses with my mess of hair and just shake my head out of her palms. I know this mess is beyond repair and her efforts are completely futile.

"Stop right now with that pouty look of despair, and no, I didn't … Lucky for him he's got fast reflexes. Pity his brain doesn't have the same skills. We're going to get you dressed up and go somewhere cozy, for cocktails, music, and a girl chat. It's an order not a request." She lets me go and starts yanking through the cases of clothes on my floor that I still haven't had the heart to unpack; pulling dresses loose and holding them up to investigate.

"I really don't think I'm up for this." I balk at her, my voice on the pleading side. My stomach is doing somersaults at the mere thought of venturing into the public domain.

"It's about time I made good with your side chick through there, can't have my girl mooning around with another woman without getting a look in, bet you're glad I like threesomes." She winks at me with that devilish air that can only be described as Leila. She's not going to take no for an answer. I sigh heavily and brace my hands on my hips trying to look more authoritative.

"Leila. I really look like crap and I'm just not in the mood…"

"Shh, not a word. Your job is to do as you're told and let Auntie Leila take care of everything." With one stubborn Leila look I know I've no hope in hell of arguing my way out of this.