Waking Up With You (7 page)

I go online and begin my research. Even though he does his best to maintain his privacy, Jake is the public face of the company. So, logically, I should start with him. I google him and three hundred thousand search results come up.
Holy!
Maybe I should have done this before I married him, though it seems like a really creepy thing to do. Jake’s name comes up in all sorts of lists: architects in the world and the U.S., young architects, well-respected architects, avant-garde designers, modern architects, young professionals, hot architects (yes, there is such a list)… Despite his efforts to keep a low profile, there are dozens of photographs of him. There are solo pictures, group pics, a couple of photos with some attractive ladies.
No, don’t go there
, I say to myself. Though I am highly tempted to click on them, I refrain from doing so.
No point, Emma
.

I spend half a day just reading each and every significant article from the first four pages of search results alone. Charlie and I knew him as a friend, but now that I’m researching him, I realize how extraordinarily talented and esteemed he is in the field of architecture. I cannot help but feel proud to know, let alone be married to, this man. I want to slap myself for thinking of him again in a personal sense, but how can I help it when he really is rather awesome?

A feature interview in
Archdaily
quotes Jake: “Truly great architecture appeals to the eye and uplifts the soul.” He sounds like an artist and a dreamer. In another interview with the staff of
Designboom
, he says, “Serenity comes from minimal, spare surroundings. Van der Rohe’s truism ‘less is more’ is my guiding principle in architecture and life.” How should I interpret that statement? Less involvement, less commitment, less emotional investment? What does he want less of?
Isn’t it obvious, Emma?

I take a break from my web surfing to gather my thoughts. On one hand, I have learned a lot about Jake’s professional accomplishments. On the other, he is as enigmatic as ever to me. It’s like you learn a bunch of stuff about a person, and yet still know nothing about the man behind the mask.
Well-played, Jake.

Charlie once vividly described to me how he met Jake. Apparently, Jake was by the drinking fountain when he heard the faint sound of crying inside the janitor’s broom closet. Charlie had been hiding from Lucas, the infamous ten-year-old bully of Clara Barton School, who had been regularly throwing his PBJ sandwiches in the trash and stealing his lunch money. Jake bravely told him to come out, and together they accosted the boy. My brother learned to stand up to the bullies of the world, and Jake won his lifelong loyalty and friendship. It wasn’t too long before Jake started hanging out constantly at our home, where Mom and Dad treated him like one of their own. Jake and Charlie were a team but, being so much younger, I simply observed them from afar.
How I wish I knew Jake the way Charlie knew him.

I go to the kitchen to make a Chinese chicken salad, but there are no cans of mandarin oranges. I might as well stock up the pantry, so I drive to the nearest supermarket. I start loading up the cart with ingredients I need. Staples, canned goods, frozen items… last stop, produce. I get two pounds of Portobello mushrooms, lots of green vegetables, peppers in various colors, and herbs. As I go up and down the aisles, I ask myself if I now look like one of those suburban young wives who are flush with cash and bored out of their minds. I groan inwardly as I have an epiphany.
I am a kept woman now. Oh my gosh!
The irony, of course, is that I have nothing to contribute in the exchange.

I drive back home and, as usual, I’m struck by the stunning view of the house and landscape. I used to think that modern buildings lack humanity and warmth, what with all the cold steel and glass they use, but Jake’s work is so simple and stark that you know he wants to shine the spotlight on the occupant. It’s the resident who imbues the house with his personality. From the interior design, I can safely assume that my husband is always in control, never a hair out of place.

Ugh!
It’s a real bummer to be married to someone so good-looking, kind, and supremely talented. I almost wish he was the complete opposite. There may be worse things than being married to a great guy who doesn’t want you, but I sure don’t know what they are.

I bring in the bags of groceries and carefully organize everything in the pantry and fridge. Next, I make my Chinese chicken salad with fried wonton noodles and mandarin oranges. Then I set the table for one. I munch on my tasty salad, a forkful at a time. After a quick clean-up, I’m back to my research work.

This time I’m zooming in on Jake’s eponymous firm. The firm’s portfolio of work encompasses commercial, residential, cultural, and educational projects. The firm has won dozens of awards of excellence. His own house, where I’m comfortably nesting now, won the California Home and Design Residential Architecture Award three years ago. Wow! Charlie probably knew about all these things, but I feel guilty that I’m such an ignoramus concerning Jake’s work. I was obviously in my own little world when he was building his career. His path to fame had been relatively easy it seems, considering that he started winning accolades for his designs even as a senior student at MIT.

The firm’s website dazzles the visitor with first-rate photographs of most of their impressive projects. The tweets are few, around one or two in every quarter. The profile hardly says anything about the leadership. Jake has a photograph and a couple of paragraphs about his education, principles of design, and awards. It’s clear from the site that the company has a comprehensive mode of design and that it lives by the concept of connecting the environment with interior space.

Their social media specialist has obviously received instructions from the boss to keep disclosures to a minimum. I think it’s a mistake because the competition is more aggressive in its approach. Other firms publicize their projects on every front. Their news coverage is extensive, and their major accounts are updated on a daily basis. I make a note to discuss changing the strategy for maximum exposure. I just hope it won’t be the hard sell I anticipate it to be.

Before I know it, it’s nine in the evening and the non-stop browsing has given me a whale of a headache. I try massaging my temples but nothing comes of it. I put away my notes, turn off the laptop, and then go to get a glass of milk since I’m not hungry yet.

I am actually tired, even though the day’s work wasn’t physical in nature. I call it a day and prepare for bed. As I go to sleep, my thoughts turn again to Jake, but I manage to cease and desist.

My room is bathed in sunlight, and I wake up to the sound of water splashing. I check my bedside clock and it’s seven o’clock. I put on my fluffy robe and go to the center of the house where the indoor pool is located, and see Jake there having a morning swim.

“Good morning. No gym today?” I say loudly so he can hear me.

“Hi. I thought I’d skip the weight training and do some swimming instead. How about you?”

“No, too early for me. Go ahead. I’ll make some breakfast.” I don’t think it’s a good idea to be half naked in the pool with him.

I clean and slice my Portobello mushrooms, and then make an omelet. Whole wheat bread popped in the toaster and mango juice served in frosted glasses.

Jake comes out of the pool in time to enjoy the spread. I want to turn away, but I am mesmerized by the way he looks. He’s lean and sculpted with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He spreads a dry towel on the chair and then asks, “Do you mind that I’m all wet and haven’t bothered to change?”
Yes, I mind
.
I don’t want to see you like this.

“Of course not. I’m sure you’re just trying to save time. It’s Monday and you probably have a full plate at work.”

“That’s true. I’ll be talking to Elise about the social media thing. Matthew will drop by later with some paperwork for you to fill out. It’s a mere formality, but we are very strict with Human Resources stuff.”

“I don’t mind. I actually did some research work yesterday, and there are a couple of things I want to run by you,” I say timidly, half-afraid he’ll veto anything without listening.

“Em, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. The young are very savvy about social media,” he says with a wink. “Just don’t highlight anything to do with my private life. That’s all I ask,” he says in a slightly warning tone.

“I get it. Only the firm. Not you.” He nods in acquiescence.

“This mushroom omelet is good, but I’ve got to go,” he says apologetically as he stands up.

“Thanks. Now, go. You wouldn’t want to be late.”

He skips to the room for a shower and I pile the dishes in the sink. I figure I have time to do them later. In the meantime, I can traipse to the garden and bask in the sun. I lay in one of the lounge chairs, and I feel so much peace just cozily being here. It’s a beautiful morning, and I look up to the sky with arms outstretched. I do absolutely nothing for the next half hour. Once in a while, my mind veers towards dangerous ground and I mentally slap myself for going there.

I do my chores and dress up for company. I don’t know Jake’s staff, but I certainly don’t want to give them the wrong first impression. I speculate that Jake will give them the vaguest details, but it will be his problem to explain who and what I am. I’ll simply take his lead.

I am tempted to call Paige, but I know she’s off with the family to their summer home in Hawaii. I often go on vacations with them, but I’m obviously not joining them this time.

Lunch comes around and there’s still no sign of any visitor so I change into workout clothes and use the home gym. It’s my first time to look around, and I see that though it is obviously smaller than a regular gym, it does have many of the most important pieces of equipment. I get on the elliptical machine and, after twenty minutes of sweating it out, my cell phone rings. It’s Matthew Rourke, from Human Resources, calling to see if he can drop by in an hour. I say yes, step off the machine, and take a shower.

Matthew is not exactly what I expected. He’s the same age as Jake, probably a little younger. He’s not one of those stodgy ID-wearing types I imagine an HR person to be. Obviously, there’s no dress code at Jake’s firm. He’s in a white shirt, black jeans, and boots. He has a black-strapped Jaeger LeCoultre watch on his left wrist. His dark blonde hair is a little on the long side. He has kind, smiling eyes. He looks more like a model than a corporate type.

“Emma?” he asks while sweeping over my face with his gaze. “I’m Matt.”

“Come on in,” I say welcomingly.

He comes inside the house and blows a low whistle. He looks everywhere, trying to take it all in.

“Never been here before?” I ask.

“No. This house was built three years ago, but I just joined the firm six months ago. It’s magnificent.”

“Yes, it is.” I agree without reservation.

“How are you related to Jake?” He’s curious, and I silently curse Jake for making this my problem.

“Jake didn’t tell you?” I pry, buying myself time to think.

“No, not really. He was in a rush to go to a field inspection. He just gave me your number and told me you’ll be doing part-time work once Elise flies back to Sweden.”

“I’m staying with him for the meantime. My brother was his best friend, and he passed away recently.” There. That sounds as close to the truth as I can make it. I am really staying here for the meantime since I don’t know what my fate will be. No need to mention the marriage, which is just a legal event anyway.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says quietly. “So you’ve been friends with Jake for a long time, then?” His question sounds like he wants to know if Jake and I are strictly friends.

“Yes, since I was a baby. Charlie, my brother, and Jake were friends from first grade,” I explain further.

He seems happy with my response. “Alright, then, let’s get down to brass tacks. I have a mountain of paperwork for you to fill out. Is there anywhere we can sit so you can start writing?”

I direct him to the dining table. We sit down and, before I take out the pen he’s offered, I ask him if I can get him a drink. “Coffee, tea, juice?”

“No, thank you. I just had caffeine for lunch. But do you mind if I look around while you sign the papers? It may be my only chance to see the interiors.”

“Go ahead. Why would I mind? It is a beautiful house.” Matthew stands up to do a tour of the house on his own. In the meantime, I’m grappling with my conscience. The forms ask for my name and, though, technically, I am not lying when I put in Emma Gilmore, I know it is deceitful to check the box for single rather than married. I choose to leave it blank. If I’m asked later on, I’ll just say I missed the line and lie, if I need to.

After twenty minutes, Matthew comes back to check in on my progress and is surprised to see I’m done. “Thank you so much for letting me wander around. Jake is such an artist. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to work for his firm. I dropped out of architecture and got a degree in business administration instead. I may not have what it takes to be a good architect, but at least I get to hang around talented men like him,” he says in a somewhat regretful way.

“I know what you mean. I am lucky enough to live in this house, and I admire his handiwork, for sure.”

“The concept of the pool running through the inside and surrounding the outside – that’s really neat. It’s a harmonious blend of…” He suddenly stops, as if embarrassed by his admiration. “I talk too much, don’t I? You must think I’m some dweeb,” he says with a laugh.

“Hey, I am still awe-struck every time I go up the driveway and enter the premises. It’s nice to hear from a fellow fan. So, no judgment on my part.” I like Matt. It’s unusual for a good-looking man not to be arrogant or full of himself. Jake is an exception. And, Matthew, I would guess, is probably really good at his job and has a personality that sits well with Jake.

“Did you know that this was originally built for the owner of Takahashi Electronics? He suffered a huge financial downturn when new regulations were instituted by the Japanese. Jake, apparently, didn’t want anyone else to own it, so he bought the property for himself. The rest is history. The design won the firm dozens of awards from all over the world.”