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“Not a lot, to be honest. She knows a lot about me. I told her about you and everything.”
“What? What did you tell her?”
I rolled my eyes, hearing the tension in his vocal cords. Jake was freaking out, even if he didn’t show it. That much was obvious.
“Where are you?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it, but I actually wanted to see Jake. If only to stop him from bursting a blood vessel.
“I’m at the Continental.”
“In L.A.?” I moaned. “Oh, damn. I was going to ask to see you.”
Jake sighed on the other end of the phone. “Alicia,” he said, “I run an airline. How quickly can you get to the airport?”
WithinfivehoursIwas touching down in L.A. It was late March, but it was already warm, and I had to shield my eyes from the sun as the bellhop led me through the hotel restaurant and down a set of steps into a garden filled with palm trees. The garden was perfectly manicured, to the point of looking like a movie set. Inside, at a table under one of the enormous, leafy trees, Jake was sitting, his laptop perched on the white tablecloth, next to a keto salad or whatever ridiculous thing he was eating. It looked like he’d barely touched his food.
“You know,” I said, “for a guy whose company office is in L.A., it’s a little weird that you always stay in hotels.”
He stood up, expressionless. I’d expected a grin, maybe, but no. Jake was obviously going to be a total killjoy. And right now, when I needed his sense of humor …
“Thank you for coming,” he said. He stood up and walked toward me. I let myself be embraced but recoiled when he tried to kiss my cheek.
“EW!” I said, writhing like something caught in the grip of a python. “Get off!”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh,fine,” he said, and sat down, grumpily typing away at his laptop. I sat opposite him.
“I’m sorry,” I began. “It’s all just a little weird.”
Jake stopped typing and looked at me. “Youthink?” he said. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I can’t stop thinking about … about … what a huge mess I’m in.”
I gritted my teeth. “At least you don’t have to carry it.”
“It?” Jake said. “Did the doctor tell you what gender it is?”
“Oh my God, you are an idiot,” I replied. “Jake, you don’t get to know the sex for like, another two months.” Fourteen weeks was the earliest a baby’s sex could be determined, though I’d be damned if I hadn’t learned that little nugget of wisdom five minutes ago. I’d passed the time in the air on the way over frantically googling pregnancy.
He sighed and rubbed his head in his hands. I could see he was actually pretty torn up about it all.As you should be, I thought.
“Look,” he said slowly. “I didn’t plan this, and neither did you. But it’s happened and now we have certain … responsibilities.”
“If you’re talking about money and stuff like that,” I said, “I don’t want a cent from you. I’ve said that already. I just want to keep working at my damned job. Sam and I will find a way to—”
“NO!” shouted Jake in a frustrated manner. “No,” he repeated, quieter. “We don’t tell Sam anything, at least not right now.”
“You chicken?” I replied. But the truth was, it was a relief to me that he’d said that. I had no idea how I was going to tell my brother that his billionaire best friend Jake Ryder was the father of my lovechild. I kept trying to imagine the scene in my head, and it was far more dramatic than the stupidest soap opera you could imagine.
“No,” said Jake. “And will you stop fighting with me? We need to cooperate.”
“Fine,” I replied. “Just as long as we are cooperating. You’re not controlling this, Jake. This is my body, my baby, and I’m having it. No shady adoption business … or whatever else the doctor may suggest.”
“She mentioned adoption?” asked Jake, and his expression grew dark. He shook it off, but I could tell something about that really bothered him. A lot was going on with Jake, and I didn’t really understand it just yet.
“Look, we’re going to need to work together. I understand that. But I can’t really talk about this now. We need to spend some time together. Get to know each other. God knows we’re not in the best position to communicate right now.”
I nodded. That seemed remarkably sensible. “When do you want to talk?” I asked.
“When are your days off next week?”
“I’ve got Wednesday off.”
