Waking Up With You (22 page)

“Bad doggie,” I bend and wave my index finger in front of her. But she just jumps and tries to play with me. “She’s not taking me seriously,” I say to Paige.

“Duh. She doesn’t even understand what she did. Leave her alone,” Paige grabs Mika and pretends to protect her from me. I laugh.

“Fine. I shall prepare the salad while you teach Mika how to leave the tree alone,”

Paige brings Mika to the Christmas tree and proceeds to rearrange the lower ornaments.

I put the oil, vinegar, and other ingredients into the food processor to make the dressing. I shred the lettuce and cut the Swiss cheese, smoked turkey, and roast beef into two-inch matchstick pieces. Boil some eggs and add avocado and halved cherry tomatoes into the salad.

“Paige, lunch is ready.”

It’s Mika who comes running my way, followed by Paige.

Without Paige to keep me company, I probably would have already keeled over from the stress of waiting. We both dig into our salads and start talking about our plans for the Spring semester.

“You’re not doing the Winter sem, are you?” she asks.

“I didn’t register, but now that I think about it, there may be one or two classes I can attend. I mean, what’s the point of wasting five weeks if …” I just shrug off the rest of the sentence.

“Emma, don’t let your unanswered questions get in the way of your dream. It doesn’t matter what the state of your relationship is. Do what you need to do at school. If you want to take a break, that’s fine, but this state of being unsure is so unlike you. In high school, you were always the first one to submit your choice of subjects for the next year. Even I was on the fence until the deadline! I don’t like seeing you this way,” she says with a frown.

“You think I like to be this way? But I can’t seem to get my act together where Jake is concerned. I’m so much on the edge.”

“I’m just saying, Emma. Do what’s right for your future.”

“I know, Paige. When I entertain the thought of a life without him, I just crumble.”

“There’s no point in threshing this out over and over again. C’mon, let’s go for a swim in your lovely indoor pool. Maybe Mika can even join us.”

We play fetch with Mika in the pool and have the most fun seeing her dive and bring the ball back. She’s amazingly fast and smart. Just swimming with Paige and playing with Mika considerably lifts my spirits.

“Hello, ladies,” Jake amiably greets us.

“Hi Jake!” Paige says.

I turn around and see him bent by the pool, waiting for me to say hello. I come out to give him a quick peck on the cheek, conscious of Paige’s observing eyes.

He gives me a heavy-lidded, sultry gaze, and I feel my cheeks getting pink. “Pity I’m too exhausted to do anything right now,” he says softly.

I look at him half-questioningly, but then suddenly grasp the meaning behind his words. Oh, of course, he’s tired. Images of him naked and doing unmentionable things to her quickly flash before me.
Erase. Erase. Erase
. I’m struggling to keep my composure because what I really want to do is attack him, instead of make small talk.

“Em?”

“Sorry, I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“Nothing important.” I completely get out of the pool and reach for the towel. Paige takes my cue and does the same thing.

As I dry myself, Paige says, “Jake, you guys are coming on the thirty-first, right?”

“The thirty-first?”

Paige gives me this ‘you haven’t told him’ look. I mouth ‘I’m sorry.’

“Every New Year’s Eve we have a huge party, and close friends and family are invited. Emma comes every year. The two of you are coming, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a smile.

“Good. I knew it would be so much easier to just ask you. Emma forgets things all the time.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask Jake.

“No, I’ve had lunch.”
Of course you have
. Room service or her delectable body?

“I need to take a shower. I’ll be back.”
Before I do or say something I’ll regret
.

Paige hurriedly says, “You know, it’s time for me to go. I promised Mom I’d help her with the menu planning for the party.” Menu planning? I know she’s lying, but she probably wants to give us space, feeling the tension in the air.

“Okay, see you after Christmas, then.” I give her the ‘I’ll call you’ sign and she nods.

Jake escorts her to her car and I hop into the shower. I’m drying my hair with a towel when he walks in.

“Is something the matter?” He looks genuinely perplexed.

“What do you mean?” I snipe.

“I’m sorry the thing took longer than expected.” Of course it did.
Couldn’t get enough of her
?

“Everything’s fine,” I say in order to end the conversation.

He looks like he wants to say something else, but then just slowly walks to the closet to change his clothes.

“Ughh!” I plop down on the bed in anger with Jake and disgust with myself. Why the hell do I feel this way? I knew what I was letting myself in for. I knew.
Dammit
!

“Em, are you okay?”

“Sure.” I can’t trust myself to say anything else.

“I’m taking Mika for a walk. Wanna come along?”

“No. Go ahead.”

Jake and I are having dinner quietly, almost not talking. He’s having a second helping of the rice pilaf and roast chicken while my own chicken sits untouched on my plate. He’s eyeing me closely, but I don’t have the energy to be more than civil.

“Em, did I do anything wrong?”
You ask me that?

“No. I’m probably coming down with something,” I say shortly. What’s the point? A lie is so much better than confronting him and looking like a fool.

He touches my neck and forehead. “You don’t seem warm, but maybe you should take some ibuprofen, just in case.” I nod. Without another word, I start taking the dishes to the sink. I can feel his eyes following me.

After a minute, he stands up to gather the last of the plates. I load the dishwasher as he hands the items to me.

“I’ll wait for you in the room,” he says.

Is he telling me this because he thinks I won’t sleep there tonight?

“Fine,” I respond quietly.

I pick this time to start scrubbing the sink and all the countertop surface. I don’t want to join him until he’s already asleep. I take out the regularly-used bowls and containers from the cabinets so I can clean the interiors as well. After more than an hour, I’m all done cleaning and literally have nothing else to do, so I go straight to my bathroom and take another shower.

I’m in an old pair of flannel pajamas, with my hair still damp, when I walk into his bedroom. He’s seated on his side of the bed, reading a book called
The Innovators
. He doesn’t say anything, but he does give me a look that says ‘what’s going on?’

“Was the kitchen that dirty?” he asks with dry humor.

“Had to be done,” I say abruptly.

He sighs and I simply say “Good night.”

“Good night.” His tone is equally brusque now.

I lie on my side, my back against him. I pull up the covers and shut my eyes, willing myself to sleep. He turns off the bedside light and we both lie in the dark, unanswered questions invading our thoughts.

This is the first night since the party that we don’t make love. He’s sated from his time with Christina and I’m in pain from the knowledge. He makes no effort to reach out to me, but if he were to touch me now, I know I’d cave in. I want him too damn much. I have no pride.
Please touch me. Please love me
.
Please choose me.
My silent pleas meet with no response.

I slowly open my eyes in the soft morning light. Jake’s heavy arm is around my waist, and I can’t help but feel just a little bit glad that, in his sleep, he’s chosen to be close to me. I squeeze his hand and he stirs slowly.

“Em?”

“Good morning.” I make an effort to be cheerful. What’s the point of giving him the cold shoulder? It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t want to be the shrew who stole Christmas. Besides, I know now that he can’t help himself anymore than I can.

I turn to him and kiss him lightly on the cheek. He seems wary, afraid that the coldness I displayed last night will rear its ugly head again.

“So what do you want to do today?” I ask casually. We’re both seated comfortably and leaning against the headboard.

“Do you mind if we just stay in?” he asks.

“No. Although I do want to go to the supermarket for a few last minute things so that I can prepare something special tonight.”

“Perfect. Let’s go grocery shopping and come back. What were you thinking of making?”

“I have a number of options… but I really haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Might I make a suggestion? How about if for tonight and tomorrow you leave the cooking to me and you can prepare the most extravagant dessert?”

“Deal.” I readily say. He seems so enthusiastic about helping out, so I decide on what to do for sweets.

“What are you thinking of cooking for Christmas?” I ask curiously.

“Seafood paella.”

“Wow. That sounds really delicious. Have you ever prepared it before?”

“Stop looking at me like you think I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m not.” I smile.

“If you must know, I learned how to cook this dish when I was in Madrid, about five years ago.”

“Was it a chef who taught you?”

“Nope. A student at the Universidad Carlos III.”

“Female?” Why am I asking?

“Yes. She was taking her masters and was assigned by the Dean to assist me at my temporary office.” I’ll bet she was.

“Oh.”
Nothing good comes from asking, Emma
. “Were you there for a long time?”

“A month. The university wanted to revise its curriculum for Architecture. They asked me to act as consultant.”

“What’s Madrid like?” I’ve never been to Europe, so I really want to know.

“It’s like any metropolitan area. It’s a mix of the old and the new. I admire the way they’ve taken care of their environment. It has the biggest green surface in all of Europe.”

“What was your favorite spot?”

“The Museo Nacional del Prado. It features European art from the twelfth century. Goya, El Greco, Titian, Rubens – their works are showcased over there. When you see their paintings right before your eyes, you’ll understand why they’re referred to as masterpieces. I was at the museum practically every single day.” No wonder the man is a well-admired architect. He’s so grounded and connected to art.

“I don’t mean to be impertinent, but why would they choose an American when there are many European architects?”

“If you must know, it’s because I’ve had collaborations with Spanish architects. They were the ones who recommended me to the University. They wanted someone with a clean aesthetic, a mastery of modern lines. Mind you, I’m merely quoting what they told me. And I do speak Spanish fluently.”

“I didn’t know that.” I’m quite surprised by his announcement. “Where did you learn?”

“High school, and then at the University. I just had a knack for it,” he says matter-of-factly. Is there no end to his talents?

“Say something to me in Spanish.”

“Eres una mujer entrometida.”

“Translation please.”

“You’re a nosy woman.” He laughs.

I decide to find out more. “Was the senorita your girlfriend?”
Stop asking!

He looks at me and shrugs. The classic gesture for ‘I’m not sure I should be telling you.’
I get it.

“I did have a life before us, Em.”

“I know that. I was just being curious.” And now I know what happens to the cat.

“Do you have a paellera?” Veering away from the danger zone.

“As a matter of fact, I do have one in the pantry. A parting gift.”
Give me a break
.

“Well, let me make a quick breakfast and we can then go.” I no longer want to talk about the lovely senorita and her special recipe.

“Okay, I’ll do a few laps in the pool while you do that.”

Mika is jumping up and down, excited to see us. I take her out for fifteen minutes. She happily runs around until I tell her firmly, “Time to go in, Mika.” Once inside, I give her some food and water, and she happily laps it up.

I get my crepe batter ready. I slice the fresh strawberries and soften the cream cheese. Since the crepe pan is warm, I pour in a third of a cup of the batter into it. I slowly flip the crepe and put the cheese inside, roll it up, and spread the strawberries in lemon sugar all over it.

Jake is getting out of the pool and joining me for breakfast.

“Coffee?”

“Sure. We’re staying up late tonight,” he says in a slightly teasing voice.

“I know what we can do. We can do a marathon of Christmas movies on videos on demand.”

“Great idea. But let’s make sure we have bowls of popcorn ready,” he agrees.

“What’s with you and popcorn?”

“Just like it. Charlie introduced me to the idea of popping corn the old-fashioned way – you know, on a stove. Then later, we just used microwavable bags. Had them all the time – even while reviewing for exams.” He looks a bit wistful at the memory.

“Wait, do you have any movies in mind? That way I can check if they have the titles.”

“No. Surprise me. I don’t care – no matter how inane.”

“Okay, but you better not criticize my taste in movies.”

“I draw the line at
Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas
.”

“
Home Alone
?”

“Check.”

“
The Santa Clause
?”

“Check.”

“
A Christmas Story
?”

“Check.”

“
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
?”

“Why not? I like the Griswolds,” he says smilingly.

“
Miracle on 34
^th
Street
?”

“Whoa! So you actually meant a marathon?”

“Duh.”

“Five movies?” He looks overwhelmed.

“Fine. Let’s see if we actually go through with it.”

“Does this mean we’re not leaving the bedroom?”

“The bedroom?”
Are you kidding me?
“I thought it would be nicer to watch on the big screen in the living room.”