“I’m not mean,” I argue. “I’m just a realist.”
Constantine leaps on the bed. Or tries. Her claws appear on the edge and she lifts her head enough for us to see her ears and desperate cat eyes. She’s tried to leap and only got so far. She lets forth an almighty screech, and her bell tinkles wildly as she grapples.
Jake reaches for her and the sheets drop low, revealing his naked torso. “Come here, baby girl,” he croons and snuggles the tiny ball of fur into his neck. He drops back on the bed, Constantine barely visible in his enormous hands.
I pause, the box still in my hands as I eye my future husband. His hair is longer now. The ends are golden from our weekends at the beach. He’s sporting a short beard too. It’s surprisingly soft and I love how it feels rubbing against my skin. Constantine loves said facial hair too. She’s rubbing her head against his jaw with adoration in her eyes.
“Open your gift,” he urges.
Another bang comes at the bedroom door. Jared yells through it when it’s not opened immediately. “They brought the wrong flowers for the arbour!”
Christ. It begins. I sigh. “What did they bring?” I call back.
“Red roses.”
Idiot. “They’re the right flowers.”
“But they’ve still got thorns on them.”
All the better to prick you with, Brother dear. “Grow a pair,” Jake hollers at him.
“Fuckers,” he mutters and disappears.
A gentle knock comes moments later. “Mackenzie, honey.” It’s Mum. “The stylist is here for your hair.”
“Already?” Jake asks me.
My lips pinch. “What do you mean already? A good up-do takes time. Do you want my hair to look like ass on my special day?” It’s still tangled around my neck. I’d be better taking the scissors with me into the bathroom and hacking it off, but I’ve been trying to keep it longer for today.
Jake holds his palms up, already surrendering.
“I’m awake, Mum,” I call back. “I’ll be down soon.”
Jake sighs and sits up, Constantine still curled in his neck. He swings his legs off the bed and stands. Entirely naked. It’s my turn to sigh. Let’s face it, all that tanned, thick muscle is the real gift here. I’ll be married to that for the rest of my life.
My future husband stalks to the dresser, tucking our little kitten under his arm like a teeny football. Being so tiny, it makes it appear as though Jake has white armpit hair, and I laugh. He glances over his shoulder, catching me watching him. “Pervert.”
I wink. “Takes one to know one.”
Pregnancy has surprisingly heightened my libido, and Jake’s in turn. He gets mad with lust seeing my belly full with his baby. I figure it’s a possessive male trait that dates back to his caveman ancestry.
Dragging my gaze from his naked from, I return my attention to the box and lift the lid. Inside nestles a bracelet set with fire opals. The gemstones catch the light and flame brightly. The beauty of it steals my breath. “Jake,” I whisper.
He shrugs as if it’s nothing but his expression is one of pleasure. With our relationship being out in the open, Jake is free to buy me whatever he chooses and he does so liberally. He seems to take so much joy in it. “It caught my eye from the store window and reminded me of you. You like it?”
“It’s stunning. I absolutely love it. But I love you more.”
Jake’s eyes crinkle. “To my head tomatoes?”
I giggle and then gasp as Satan punches outward. The saying is one his dad used with him when he was a boy. He uses it freely now. “And back up again.”
Jake sets Constantine on the top of my old glossy dresser and goes to open a drawer. The slick surface causes her panic and she tears off, skittering, and slides right down the back of it. The resulting screech is loud enough to burst my ear drums.
“Constantine!” I roll to my side and wrestle my way off the bed. I’m puffing my way over but Jake is already kneeled on the floor, reaching underneath to grab her. She’s wedged and he has to tilt his head to the side to see anything.
“Gotcha,” he exclaims and drags her out.
She comes out attached to a ratty old envelope. I snatch her up, and she burrows in between my right boob and my belly.
“What’s this?” Jake is straightening, the envelope in his hand.
I shake my head. “I don’t—” I’m about to say know, but then I get a good look at it and see Jake Romero written across the front in childish scrawl. At the time I thought the lettering looked neat and a bit fierce, but now it just appears jagged and silly. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Jake flips it over. The back is still stuck down, sealing it closed.
“It’s the letter I wrote you when I was eleven.”
He looks at me, puzzled. “You kept it all this time?”
“I did for a long while. You left and it felt like the only tie I had with you. For some strange reason it was comforting, but I thought the letter lost. It must have fallen down the back of the dresser and stayed there for years.”
Jake slips his thumb beneath the flap and begins to tear it open. I snatch it from him with my free hand; the other is snuggling Constantine. It leaves his hands suspended in the air.
“You can’t read it now.”
“Yes.” He snatches it back and smirks. “I can.”
I want to wrestle it from him but my belly cramps. I suck in a sharp breath. Oh shit. Not today, Satan. I walk to the bed, turn, and sink down slowly.
“Are you okay?” Jake asks. He has the letter out, but he’s watching me, the lines on his brow etched deep with concern.
“Heartburn,” I lie.
“You eat too much crap,” he mutters, unfolding the page.
“I haven’t eaten anything at all yet today. I’m starving.” I really am. “I’ve a craving for pasta carbonara.”
Jake’s brow arches. “For breakfast?”
Constantine leaps free of my arms and onto the bed. She stalks toward Jake’s pillow, tail twitching. After a quick sniff to make sure it’s his, she climbs on and claws until she settles in. “Yes. For breakfast.”
He shakes his head with amusement as he starts reading the letter aloud.
“Dear Jake.
I’m sorry for what I said. And I’m sorry about your dad.”
I’d gone on to write ‘you should have told me,’ but then I scrunched up the page and started again. It was none of my business but then again, it felt like it was. At the time I was so confused. But now it’s never been clearer. Jake and I are soulmates, and my soulmate had been suffering. How cliché that sounds when I think it. Silly, even. But no matter what, fate knew we were meant to be and kept shoving us together until we figured it out for ourselves.
Jake keeps reading. “Hearing what happened made me hurt, so I know you must hurt too. I don’t know how far away you’re going, or if I’ll ever see you again, but if I do I’ll try and be nicer.